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sleepyangelkami · 11 days

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TOUCH STARVED s.harrington

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.5K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - you were too shy to speak up for what you wanted, even to your boyfriend for something so simple. fortunately for you, he always seem to know exactly what you need.

☆ WARNINGS - mention of pussy whipped, reader has hair, light insecurity, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

walking into family video, steve swore he'd never seen such a glum face.

your expression was saddened, not enough to look upset over something but just enough to tell steve what kind of day you'd been having. and believe me, he'd had his fair share of these kind of days.

"you doofus, that's not how you do it." robin argued, as she always was. nothing steve could do for her ever deemed to be the 'right way' however, before he could give back a snappy argument, he snapped his head towards you, the bells of the store giving a quick ring.

robin looked up confused as she received no snarky comeback before glancing towards you. she could have rolled her eyes, how pussy-whipped was this guy? "hey, y/n." she greeted first, watching as steve stepped away from the counter.

"hi, rob." you gave her a sweet, almost shy smile, she returned it in full. robin was very well used to you getting in these little moods, sort of where you shy into yourself. she'd never mentioned it, though, sort of assuming that was just how you were.

"hey, honey." steve was by your side in an instant, snatching up your bag from you so he could hold it. the sight of him had you leaning into him, almost fluttering your eyes shut. a sudden overwhelming feeling of tiredness fell over you. "you okay?"

he was craning his neck to look at you, you merely nodded. "tired." you answered before making your way behind the counter with him.

technically, you shouldn't be behind the counter and if keith were here, he'd surely have something to say about it. but he wasn't.

family video was having one of them slow days that consisted in hardly five customers an hour while steve and robin argued relentlessly on working the stupid computer that had been around way too long for anyone's liking.

you sat on one of the chairs with steve's arm around you. for as long as you could remember, he'd always been like this. touchy.

and truthfully? you were thankful. some days, all you needed was his touch and you didn't even have to ask, merely hold out a hand shyly and it was in yours. but on days like this, even an arm constantly around your shoulder wasn't enough.

your fingers had trailed up to mess with his. his large hand was relatively big in yours, you could lean against his shoulder all the while. in all of this, you could have fallen asleep.

though, that deemed hard with robin and steve's constant arguing. "you idiot!" steve yelled, pushing buttons at the computer and sort of dragging you as he did so. "you're gonna break it!"

"and what if i did?" she argued back. "not like it's worth anything." she would have kicked the computer, had she been right. unfortunately, the computer was worth something, her job.

steve sat himself back on the chair with a scowl before glancing to you.

even the mere sight of you was always enough to calm him down.

"sorry." he mumbled, knowing he was disturbing whatever peace you were getting. you merely waved him off before going back to playing with his fingers.

a couple more customers came in and fled all the same, renting movies that robin and steve would then gossip about as soon as they'd leave the store. oh yeah, horrible movie. i heard the sequels even worse!

it was best for you to leave them do this.

and by seven, it was time to lock up. you stood outside, waiting for steve who was using the key to pull down the store gate.

robin's head came out from underneath, holding her satchel bag. "night guys!" she called after you without turning around. she didn't even have a drivers license so you weren't entirely sure how she was getting home. nonetheless, you'd learned that it was better not to question robin.

"night!" steve called back before turning to you and rolling his eyes. "that girl." he only shook his head and shut his eyes, concealing his obvious irritation towards his best friend.

you only grinned back sheepishly, knowing they despised yet loved one another dearly.

it wasn't until you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, gazing out the window while your hands fiddled with his fingers that sat atop your thigh that he noticed something was wrong. earlier, you'd shrugged it off as mere tiredness and he supposed he believed you.

the night sky was dark and the hot air coming from the car was enough to lull anyone to sleep. yet still, he had a gnawing feeling that you weren't telling him the whole truth.

you weren't a liar, no. steve would say you were many things, never a liar.

however, you had the tendency to hide things from him. not overly important things like seeing someone else or something or other. you just had the tendency to not speak much about your feelings unless directly asked. you'd shy away and sheepishly shrug, not wanting to bother him.

you always had that fear of burdening him.

as the relationship progressed, he noticed this. he too had the fear of burdening. but slowly, you both began to break out of your shells. him undeniably much faster than you.

the stillness of his house told you it was home. the porch lights were on as he led you inside, hand on the small of your back. a couple lights were left on in the house too.

not the large, centre lights.

the warm lamps illuminating the entire house in a cozy aura.

you weren't too sure how you moved from the door to the couch so quickly. nonetheless, you relaxed into the material as the sound of you and steve's show began to play. a new episode every week. it was a ritual in the harrington house. and by that, i mean just you and him.

steve didn't miss the glances you kept shooting him. whether intentional or not, he could see from the corner of his eye, your head move to look at him and suddenly look back at the screen before he could catch you.

when he did, though, he caught exactly what he needed.

you were looking at him all doey, presumably tired however there was something else in your eye, something that gave you completely away.

a longing.

suddenly, everything clicked.

there was a reason you'd been leaning into him so much today, following him around silently like a lost puppy dog. not that he minded, no, he never minded. but he knew something had been wrong and that you didn't think you had voice enough to speak on it.

"what's wrong with you, huh?" he nudged you, voice ever so gentle. though he knew what you wanted, he sort of wanted you to tell him. "been quiet all day."

you leaned your head against the back of the couch, eyes travelling over his pretty features. and he looked especially pretty in the dim lighting of the enormous living room. "'m always quiet." you countered.

in a way, you were far from wrong. more often than not, steve would have to beg you to speak to more people, try get out there because he knew you wanted to. once again, you feared your voice was much too small. "fair point. but you're more quieter today."

you pursed your lips at him. "just quieter." he hummed in confusion. "it's just 'quieter', more quieter isn't the right grammer."

a roll of his eyes was paired with a pretty grin. "see? there's my smart girl. where was she all day, hm? head cloudy?"

truthfully, you didn't know what was wrong. everything just felt so off, all day you'd wanted to be surrounded by him. his embrace, his words, his scent, his everything. and that was becoming a little too much when the cruel world reminded you that it was, in fact, impossible to morph into another human being by hugging them hard enough. "i don' know." you shrugged, voice sort of small.

but steve had been in the game much longer than you.

it started with the simple feeling of his fingers tracing against your cheeks, grasping a strand of hair and curling it between his index finger. he always thought you looked pretty with your hair framing your face. though you were undeniably beautiful in all aspects.

"there something you want?" he didn't ask it in an accusing way that made you sheepishly look away. he spoke ever so quietly, as if careful of disturbing the peace of his rarely quiet house.

once again, you shrugged.

"sweetheart." he gave you this look. this convincing, knowing, look. steve always had a way of communicating to you, even just through his eyes. it was enough for your heart to quench.

he looked as though he knew exactly what had been troubling you, like he knew exactly how to fix it.

how is it that steve harrington seemingly knew everything in the world? sometimes, even he made you feel a little silly. i mean, he was more tuned in with your emotions than you were.

the show that was playing on the tv was low, barely heard as his eyes searched your own. "you know you can ask for anything, yeah?" you nodded your head while chewing your bottom lip. because you did know. steve always made it easy for you to come to him with anything. yet even then, your own shy nature still prevented you from saying all the words that sat against the tip of your tongue. the universe tended to be cruel like that. "c'mere, honey."

his outstretched arms looked like the heaven you'd been searching for.

without second thought, you found yourself climbing into them, breathing out a sigh of relief as your cheek sat itself against his sweater-covered chest.

this is what you wanted.

his legs were outstretched, somewhere for you to sit against while your own wrapped themselves against his torso. there was something so comforting about the feeling of him against you.

he let you relax your face against him, lips shut tight as one of your hands came beneath your chin. while watching the animations flash across the television, you could feel his own arms slinging loosely around your waist, one hand gently playing with the strands of hair while the other traced against your back.

you supposed you weren't morphed into him but this was as good as it was going to get.

perhaps, this was all you needed.

he was gentle, soft and welcoming.

everything you'd been hoping for.

"this all you needed, hm?" the shapes he drew against your back began to feel a lot like words, a lot like 'i love you'. you nodded, humming ever so softly. "should've just asked, baby."

"i didn't wanna bother you." you mumbled, suddenly feeling like the whole thing had been just a little silly.

you felt his hand against your chin, gently tilting it upwards so you could meet his eye. "you never bother me." and you could tell by the chocolatey swirl in his eyes. he wasn't lying.

perhaps two hours passed since that very moment. steve watched the show episode until it ended, flicking on the television programme that was simply on. he could feel your soft breaths against the nape of his neck, hands outstretched towards him.

you'd fallen asleep in his embrace.

he often told you not to watch the show so late if you would fall asleep albeit you always insisted that you wouldn't. low and behold, he was right. he was always right.

and when the final programme ended, and he deemed it was late enough, he decided it was time to get you into bed.

instead of waking you, he opted to pick you up, carrying you upstairs and surely almost dropping you a total of three times because he couldn't register where he was putting his feet. yet eventually, he made it towards the bedroom and placed you against the bed. the warm blankets soon were draped over your body.

and after all the rustling, the thing that stirred you was the creek of the door.

he watched as your eyes parted, obviously still slick with sleep, and cursed himself. he thought, who, as rich as him, would own a door that creeks so loudly? and made a mental note to get new hinges.

"you okay, angel?" he mumbled into the darkness of the room, slipping off his jeans and slipping into bed with you.

"mm." you hummed as he grasped your body again, holding you close. your arms hugged themselves around his neck, shutting your eyes closed. "wanna melt into you." you mumbled, obviously too tired to register what you were saying.

"yeah?" a chuckle fell from his lips, knowing you would never have the confidence to say such a thing while wide awake. nonetheless, he took it as a compliment anyway. "we should try turkey then."

"what's in turkey?" you questioned tiredly.

"i don't know. everything? i mean, if they can give you a new set of teeth, surely they have the answer to your problems too. we can like, melt ourselves together." he was talking nonesence, though it was lulling you back to sleep anyway.

the sound of your sleepy giggle had him holding his breath, wondering if this was all real. "let's go to turkey then."

"i'll put it on our bucket list, angel." you nodded your head, without response. "you goin' to sleep on me? hm?"

"can you..." you cut yourself off with a breath. then, you reminded yourself that it was steve harrington, the boy you loved more than yourself. and you could ask him anything. "can you keep talking?"

"careful what you wish for, i might not shut up." you only giggled gently before allowing him to continue. "did i ever tell you about dustin's girlfriend?" you shook your head. "oh god, you should have seen it..."

this, you were sure, is where you could actually die happy.

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

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inkskinned · 2 years

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i. so 2 days ago, i think i almost got kidnapped.

ii. there's this line in mitski - okay, so i'm a stereotype but - she says i've been big and small. sometimes i think she means physically. and sometimes i think she means like how it feels small to be alone in a grocery store.

iii. i'm babysitting my brother's dog. my dog is much bigger than his; goblin's 70 pounds and comes up to my hip. but his dog (an australian shepherd) - she's tiny. like 30 pounds or something.

iv. i called my sister before i called the cops. it felt like a big move to call the cops. i didn't like doing it, either. i felt like, embarrassed this happened.

v. it was getting dark, right. and the rain had really started in earnest. and we were coming off a trail we'd seen a guy on, deep in the woods. this white unmarked panel van was just sitting there, at the trailhead, lights on, engine on. i had to squeeze past it to get to my car. i kept telling myself - this is fucking stupid to be freaked out by. it's just a guy. it's just a van. it's not a movie. move along.

vi. sometimes i think about those chain emails that used to go around. you know, the ones with "survival tips for women" in them. in the age of the internet, where did all of those go? where is the masterlist of holding your keys in your fist? did anyone print that up and put it on their wall. do they sleep beside it.

vii. the van started to move while i put the dogs in the car. very slowly, he turned and backed up so he was blocking me in. i felt my heart racing. the rain was in my eyes. he opened his front door, just stuck a foot out. my brother's dog immediately freaked out. i had to physically restrain her. he closed his door. i got into the car with the dog, through the passenger side. i locked everything. the van stayed behind me for a little bit. when he finally left, i found him parked at the edge of the road. he waited for me to turn, and then followed me for a few intersections.

iix. i just couldn't stop thinking - this isn't real. this isn't something that happens. you're making this a bigger issue than it needs to be. this is the way it would play out if you were on tv. i didn't want to be that person, you know? jumping at shadows. freaked out about nothing. you know, a hysterical woman.

ix. my friends and i joke over dinner that i would be the first to die in a horror movie. then we go around and assign death warrants - who dies first, who is the serial killer. there are times in my life i have been jokingly folded to fit into the trunk of a car. every time someone picks me up, even in a friendly way, i have the sudden, horrible thought: oh. i couldn't really stop this from happening if things got too far. that feels small and big all-at-once. like breathing in glass particles.

x. i didn't get the license plate. the cops were not helpful. i didn't really expect them to be, but i didn't want anyone else to get hurt, just-in-case something bad would have happened. not that i get to assume something bad would have happened. it feels small and stupid. i feel like an idiot. what if calling the cops causes more hurt than good? maybe calling them was foolish. the first thing i said when they picked up was - uh, so i don't really know if this is a big deal or not but i think something weird just happened.

xi. in the last 48 hours i have gone to work and done my laundry and walked the dogs some more. i didn't even bring it up with my therapist. on the phone with the police officer, she said - you're actually being very calm about this. it is just something that can happen, i guess. i think i'm probably not the only person walking around with something that should-be-big rattling around inside of them. since nothing did happen, i don't really get to be upset. bad things have happened to me. i am statistically speaking extremely lucky.

xii. sometimes i think about all the diary pages that exist. and all the places where people hide the things that are too horrible to look at, even if it's a memory. it feels big-and-small to know that my diary knows the worst of me. it feels big to know someone else probably has the same diary. like - ha! same trauma. how endearing. i told my sister - well this is just part of being femme presenting isn't it.

xiii. on wednesday i saw a bunch of warblers and last night i had a dream about a girl with red hair. that felt big. that felt poetic. it's thursday today. i almost got kidnapped on a tuesday. in between the rest of me, i have no idea where to fit that moment.

poem where everything is true unless it makes you uncomfortable and then of course it's all made up for attention // r.i.d

#whatever this is #poetry #prose #warm up

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tubatwo · 20 days

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Soft Taehyun thought..

You had a hard day at work and as soon as you walked into your shared apartment and you saw Taehyun you burst into tears waffling about how hard your day was inbetween sobs and hes just pulled you to him and sat you on his lap as you cry into his neck and hes just rubbing your back and stroking your hair while he whispers “everything is gonna be okay honey…” , “shhh its okay tomorrow will be better..” or like “take the day off tomorrow..” or just asking if he should go get your favourite snacks from the store and you two can cuddle watching your favourite movie

(sorry its long)

oh my god taehyun comfort prompts make me so so soft I would literally do anything to hug him!!! he cares so much about his loved ones and he’s so protective (the way he’s possessive over kai and doesn’t like seeing him cry.. brb gonna lay on the floor and just die)

can I just make this even more heart wrenching and suggest if it was his first time seeing you cry.. obviously crying in front of someone is kinda awkward and your relationship was still somewhat fresh. you weren’t sure how taehyun would react and you also didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. but the day just sucked so badly!!!! no matter how good you were at brushing things off, there were just so many things that you couldn’t ignore :( the only thing you wanted to do was go home and see your boyfriend.

and when you finally see him, you can’t help but let out everything you were holding in. the world was harsh and nasty, but taehyun was everything but that. he was a reminder that love and light still existed.

“b-baby?” he froze for a second before standing up quickly, rushing over to your shaking figure by the door. “are you okay? what happened?” the only thing on his mind at this point is 1. what happened 2. why it happened and 3. whose ass does he have to beat lmao

“i’m s-sorry,” you let out in between hiccups, “t-today was so horrible, i’m really s-sorry.”

“oh honey..” he whispers, softly guiding you to the couch where he then pulls you onto his lap. “why are you apologizing, hm?”

“don’t wanna ruin the mood.. feel stupid for crying.” you confess.

taehyun pulls your head into his neck as you cry harder, feeling frustrated from the day and now for ruining your boyfriend’s mood. little do you know that he’s grateful. he’s grateful that you came to him and you feel safe enough to give him all of you, including your emotions.

“shhh.. you’re not ruining anything, sweetheart. and you shouldn’t feel stupid. I love you, you know?” your sobs die down as you become mesmerized by your boyfriend’s voice right by your ears, his hands slowly caressing your back. “i’m right here, okay? everything’s okay now.. I got you..”

and that was all you needed. you knew that as long as you had him then you would be okay. everything would be alright. you finally lift your head up to meet his eyes. he chuckles softly at how cute you look, tears and all </333

“my sweet baby..” he coos, using his sleeve to endearingly wipe the tears off your cheeks. “take the day off tomorrow, yeah? you deserve a break.”

and before you could even protest he was already cutting you off. “and take this.” he quickly unlocks his phone and taps a few buttons before handing it to you. you tilt your head in confusion, not fully understanding what he’s asking you.

“your instacart order. add any snacks you want. the only thing you need to worry your pretty little head about tonight are snacks, movies, and cuddles.”

ASKSKDKD ok can you tell i’m getting carried away I just love him so much (´•ω•̥`) and don’t apologize for making it long!!! the more details you guys give the easier it is to imagine the scene in my head

(btw if you were having a hard day and that inspired this ask I hope your day is better!!!)

soft hours open!

#txt imagines #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt x you #txt fluff #txt x oc #txt scenarios #asks #txt reactions #txt headcanons #soft asks #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #taehyun fluff

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xmortuarykittyx · 6 months

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Ever Locked

Part 4: Good Night, Bunny

Part 3: With Your Ghost

pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy × Ex!Coroner's Assistant Reader

warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, talks of enjoying inflicting emotional and physical pain on another, just Leon’s pov on things right now.

Fucking rain. Every single day, nothing like the thick air, the feeling of Raccoon City before its inevitable bombing. Boots clap against the rain puddles, slick as the show slides on the step, nearly knocking me off balance and into the small bushes by the hotel door way. "Shit-", the word spat as my hand clutches at the automatic door, stilling it. "Fucking rain, can't wait to get back to my place.", all the more reason to get into her mind, to open Pandora's Box into the mind of the woman of the hour.

My phone dings as I adjust the whiskey bottles in the bag, shifting from my right to left hand, reaching for the Motorola Razr, the fucking brick costing much more than i wanted to pay. Chris Redfield sent a message. A grumble left my lips as i entered the doors, heading to the shiny elevator. Tapping his stupid little contact photo opened the message; "so, when were you gonna tell everyone you were over 3000 miles away? You know we listed you as MIA and had a chopper checking around your house, right? Never understood why you needed to live in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, had us worried you went off the deep end or something." I could nearly hear Rebecca hitting him in the shoulder for the last part.

My choices in house placement was quite simple; remote enough to not have any issues with neighbors- like a certain old hag who should've minded her own business- then, were close enough to a small town with a grocery store and a post office. It's perfect. Small, far away from everyone else and it can be a small safe space for the family i'm going to build. I have lived my life giving and giving and giving, giving up my life to the government, letting all my wants go to work on missions, letting vacations slip past me just so i can work my ass off one more time and get denied the next vacation. I never have a moment to myself until i'm MIA.

I'll be selfish, this time around, i'll be selfish. I want one thing to myself, my home to myself. I want her, bunny, to myself. The future is so uncertain, but in certainty, i know i will have her and she will be away from everything and everyone. She'll be something just for me, for my pleasure. It's selfish, god, it's wrong to be so self centered to throw off someone's life so horribly, but i can't find it in myself to regret the choice i've made to come and find her.

The elevator dings, bringing my attention to the wobbly reflection. My hair is dark with grease, my skin dry and flakey in parts, my hand comes up just as the doors open. Fingers rubbing at the rough scruff that coats my jaw. I looked like shit, honestly, i would've cried had i seen myself too. As the door threaten to close once more, i step out. The hallway is lit with a warm lamp, it was short and the rain taps against the windows with a rhythmic patter. I wonder what she's doing, is she worrying? Is she scared that i'm back, or is that perfect new boyfriend currently too busy keeping her wrapped around him? The latter causes my brows to drop.

The keycard taps the lock, hearing a beep and a green light before my, still wobby, legs threaten to let me fall. The handle is clicked quickly, falling under the weight of my hand. The room is... clean, at the most, plain. Very minimalistic. The bed is neat, the coffee cups wrapped, definitely won't be touching those, unless they have the creamer i like. Coffee left a bad taste, trying to down that god awful black coffee to impress the older officers still made me want to throw up. The bitterness, i wasn't someone into the bitter things, despite how bland my life had become. Time didn't stop for me to indulge in anything sweet or extra. That's why i won't answer that message, once i acknowledge it all, then come questions, why's, when's, where's. I don't have the time, I needed to set my plan in place. I needed to know that things were gonna work out this time, this opportunity.

The desk is clear of anything, which is good, my bags lay underneath from my earlier visit before the White Wolf. Duffel bags of clothes, files and photos. It was time... but a drink first wouldn't hurt. A soft sigh leaves my lips as i lay the whiskey bottles down, hearing them clink together. Jack Daniel's, wasn't the top shelf shit- but it was cheap and whiskey tastes like whiskey once you've downed enough- they all taste the same.

The bag rustles as i fish out the first bottle, nearly half empty from the gas station down the road. My boots slide off with ease as i step towards the coffee maker, pulling one of the little paper cups from the stack. "As good as any.", my shoulders weigh with a shrug before the cap is off and the cup is half full of warm whiskey. The amber liquor burns, the flavor vanilla-ish. Something i should've looked at before throwing the cash on the counter. Alcohol is alcohol, at the end of the day.

My back hits the bedding, cup laid aside on the side table. The thoughts of the past few years flooding my mind, the latest tragedy being my team being ratted out and only myself coming out as a survivor. It never seems to fail, anyone close to me... their life is cut short by some tragedy or they're in danger at my hands. It was a cycle, one i wouldn't let touch the innocence of my bunny. The pillow engulfs my cheek as i lay my head upon it, the inside rough but manageable as i reach out for the cup, my fingers pushing it further away before catching the rim and pulling it closer.

My head aches with the next round of thunder, the lightening cracking over the dim room. Engulfing everything in a light for a few seconds, the painting across from the bed getting my attention. It looked... angry, and yet it was just swipes of black and red paint over a white background. What? You gonna say it's some internal struggle i'm having or something. is it like those tests the therapist hands you to get a read on you? The liquid in the cup splashes as i swirl it, my mind bouncing from left to right. It feels surreal, im sure it does for her, too. The moment i've been anticipating since i saw the name under a few address, the moment she's been dreading since that faithful day. It's crazy how much fate can dictate.

The Chinese have a legend, about a red string of fate tied between two lovers. It's a beautiful story-pictures of fingers intertwined with the others, red string wrapped delicately around pinkies and swirling around the hands that finally met their match. It's beautiful until the string is tied around your throat by the one tethered to the other side, that string of fate is telling. What was meant to show you endless care and tenderness now tightly stealing away the very air that kept you alive, that tore at the delicate flesh, its motives unknown and terrifying.

Another rumble of thunder and that thought too is ripped from my consciousness. I see the fault in my plans, don't get me wrong. I'm not insane. I simply don't care, i want this and for once in my miserable life, im going to get something i want. She's just the poor soul who has to be the one i set my sights on. She loved me once too, you know? She said it- herself- she loved me. She let me see her vulnerable and bare. I want to see it again, that bitch at the bar declined giving me Bunny's new number. What a stuck up bitch. A laugh ripped past my lips, the liquor splashing out of the cup lip and landing on my cheek as i wipe it away quickly. Hand once more in my scruffy, growing in beard. I wonder if i should keep it, at least while i'm here? Nah. I never could grow a nice full beard, mine always patchy and uneven. It is what it is, but i'm not shaving it right now. My eyes are stinging, head falling back on the pillow as the cup slides back onto the night stand.

The clothes call to me from their bag, begging for me to change into the soft grey sweatpants that have been my favorite for years now. I feel a twitch in my leg, a pushing force that is quickly pushed away. That can wait for tomorrow, as can planning. The bed is too magnetic to my body. The sheets already bunched under my weight, fingers digging around to grip the sheet and pull it up, promptly causing my muscles to ache, realizing i have, indeed, made no progress, my legs stand for a millisecond, before i'm back into the bed, quicker than the bag can see. Nothing outweighed the amount of exhaustion that built up in my brain.

The aircon kicks on, the room settling at a nice sixteen nine degrees. Cold and enough the blanket keeps me warm. The buzz of the alcohol and the warm and cool feeling just about as perfect as it can get. Something feels as if it's missing, like there's something that should be here and isn't, but i think i know what it is. I think it's always been missing and the sleepless nights had me begging any god that i'd have that back. Sleep doesn't come easily for me anymore, but knowing her presence isn't as far as i anticipated, has me feeling slightly more relaxed. Maybe enough to settle into bed all night, or enough to keep staying asleep the entirety. Either way, as long as i sleep. I can't keep pushing missions with no rest, last mission i was nearly left back there. Sleep is a necessity that hasn't been fulfilled since her disappearance. I know it wasn't her choice or fault either too.

That's why I'd wanted to speak with her at her work, to see if all these years anything had changed. I know it probably has, but does she still bring that peace and calmness to me, can she still cause me to snap instantly with her little smart ass behavior? I have to know. Either way, she's mine. She's always been mine.

The sheets cocoon me, cradling my body as I slept in my daily clothes. It didn't matter, i'd slept in abandoned ships, cots that were as hard as a plank of wood, in 3 day old clothes, bed for other men who hadn't showered in weeks. This bed, felt amazing, compared. The curtains letting the lightening crack over my face but the stinging stalled as the darkness encroached my eyes. The fluttering causing a tear slipped pasty cheek. warm as i nearly got to that state of peace. Work can be done tomorrow, plans, actions and strong up my temporary home, it'll all work out. Good night, Bunny...

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ave09 · 10 months

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Today (July 1st) is Indiana Jones’ birthday!!! Maybe Reader and Short Round help Indy celebrate his birthday!

hi! i would’ve loved to post this on his actual birthday, but i’m visiting family and their service was horrible so i was off the grid for a good twenty-four hours

i’m also currently working on another request for indy, but it requires some research, but here’s a lil hint, it revolves around the fountain of youth 👀

indiana jones x wife!reader

“shh!”

“don’t shh me!”

“you’re being a lot right now, shorty, i just need a moment of quiet.” there was silence for .5 seconds, and then he started up again.

“what time will indy be home?”

“soon,” you replied, sliding on your oven mitts as you moved to the oven where a chocolate cake was currently baking. “soon? the cake won’t be done by then!”

that was very true. it still needed to cool, and be frosted, cooled again, and decorated. this should’ve been done last night. indiana was to return from one of his adventures, and the date he returned just happened to be on his birthday. you and shorty had decided to make it a big one, so you’d planned to bake a cake and decorate the house with festive colors in honor of his special day.

but things quickly went downhill.

you’d been called in for a conference with a student at college, which had occupied way too much time. and upon coming home, you found out that your adopted son, short round, had taken it upon himself, to start baking the cake.

one could only imagine how that happened. you had to run to the store, pick up more ingredients, and now here you were. indiana could be home any minute, and nothing was going the way it should.

you knew that he would love it either way, but you wanted it to be perfect.

“just-“

“hello!” the sound of that familiar voice and the slamming door caught your attention. “indy!” short round exclaimed.

well shit.

the young boy hopped off of the counter, rushing toward the entrance of the kitchen where indiana jones stood, his arms outstretched, a smile on his face, “hey shorty!” he exclaimed, picking the boy up, hugging him to his chest, “how ya doing? have you been taking care of my girl?”

“yes, indy! just like you told me too!” the man let out a hearty laugh before setting the boy down, “now if you excuse me, i gotta see my wife.”

the man then sauntered over to his wife, pulling her close, catching her in a surprise kiss as he smashed his lips against hers. there was passion, yearning, you’d have gone with him were you able to find a sitter for shorty.

and oh, how you missed him.

you pulled away before the kiss escalated, glancing up at him. you loved indiana for who he was, but you were an absolute sucker for his post-adventure look. his hair was always mused under his hat, and his stubble was prominent, an almost beard, he was always in a happy mood upon returning home and it made her love him more.

“hi sweetheart.” he greeted. “hi honey, happy birthday.” you replied, pecking his lips softly. indiana smiled, his eyes sliding to the cake pan on the counter behind you.

he arched his brows, “that for me?”

you nodded slowly, “it was supposed to be finished but i ran out of time.”

“it’s the thought that counts, darling. plus, i already have everything i could ever need: you and the kid.”

“i have a name!” shorty interjected as indiana pulled you into another kiss.

the three of you had spent the rest of the day decorating the cake, making homemade pizzas, and watching old movies. it was a grand time and you could tell indiana was having a blast watching shorty criticize the television for the stupid actions of the characters.

at the end of the night, once shorty had been put to bed, you and your husband climbed into bed. “so, how was your special day?” you asked softly as indiana hovered over you, propping himself up with his elbows. “it was beyond amazing darling.” he replied, kissing you passionately. you smiled into the kiss, deepening it.

“i love you,” you whispered between kisses, and he gave you that smartass response you knew and loved:

“i know.”

#indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #indy x reader #indy #indiana jones and the raiders of the lost ark #indiana jones and the temple of doom #indiana jones and the last crusade #harrison ford #harrison ford x reader #han solo #young harrison ford #harrison ford movies

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bellafragolina · 7 months

Note

I was thinking about what the submas boys and laventon, separately, be like when an argument has happened between them and their s/o. Like a drabble on what they do when they want to make up to the s/o?

Aye aye!!! I’ll make these so the boys are in the wrong and trying to make up with their s/o

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

He feels horrible. Having an argument with you before going into work, one entirely his fault, makes his day miserable. It seems that karma is out for him, sending angry passengers and shitty circumstances his way. It’s all exhausting, and in between it he can only replay your argument and all the harsh things he said. He cries eating the lunch you made for him, scared to think he might never get another one ever again. The lack of your love in his life would kill him, he knows it.

Ingo buys out both the flower shop and any pastry or chocolatier shop on his way home. His arms are overflowing with gifts for you, and his brain is overflowing with apologies. He practices his speech the entire way home, gripping the gifts so tightly, only to falter when he arrives home. You’re not there to greet him, silently cooking dinner in the kitchen, not acknowledging him.

Ingo creeps over, scared to break this fragile air between you both. He can see the puffiness to your eyes, the redness to your nose. His heart breaks thinking how much pain he’s caused you. He sets the gifts down, but you only spare them a glance. So he starts to stammer out his apology, long and rambling

“I-I know I have hurt you. I have no excuse; I was horrible to you. This is not something I want to repeat, sh-should you allow me- bless me with the chance to learn from mistakes. I’m not due forgiveness, but I would still like to make it up to you. Please. Please allow me to at least try to make it up to you, that’s all I ask. You don’t need to forgive me, but I want to try and ease any pain that I can, if I can. Please. I love you too much to let you continue hurting so from my own stupid actions.”

Should you let him, he’ll be bound to you. Ingo keeps contact with you however he can, reassuring himself that you’re still here, willing to forgive while he also comforts you. He decorates you in soft kisses, holds you close as the night winds down, and hopes you’ll forgive him. He’s definitely taken everything into account and won’t make the same mistake again

Emmet:

Emmet gets antsy as he arrives at work, his anger from the argument waning into guilt as he recognizes his own fault for the whole tiff. He doesn’t like being away from you when he just caused you pain. He wants to go home, but he’s also afraid you won’t be there when he goes back. He settles for arranging for deliveries to arrive at the house, texting you an “I love you” every hour to thirty minutes if he can swing it. Your “I love you too but I’m mad at you” soothes him at least a little bit

Emmet approaches his brother for help. Together, they try to come up with a more eloquent apology than Emmet could manage on his own. He doesn’t want to be blunt and short, he wants to express his sorrow and his guilt. So they make a small script for him to go off of, and Emmet tries to study it and recite it to get the words somewhat right

Yet, when he comes home to you, flowers in hand from the nearest store, you don’t come running to greet him. You don’t jump into his arms for a hug and a kiss and other pleasantries. Emmet swallows heavily, but shuffled towards the kitchen, standing in the entryway like a kicked puppy as he watches you cook silently. He starts to murmur his way through his apology, words forgotten as he tries not to panic about your silence.

“I am Emmet. I am verrrry sorry. I was rude, and mean, and wrong. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to break up. I want to make things right. Please. I will do whatever you want! Just say the word. I want to make you happy. I made you upset today, and I want to fix it. If I can. Please.”

He scrambles for a hug the moment you turn around. He doesn’t want to let go either, attached to your front or back as you try to continue through the day. His love language is touch after all, and he wants to remind you just how deeply his love for you goes.

Laventon:

Laventon has an argument with you right before he goes off on a survey expedition. He fumes to himself as he walks with the others, only to start slowing down as he replays the argument in his head, over and over. He starts to realize, with horror, that he’s at fault for the hurt look on your face, the last thing he saw before he left for this however-long journey. He has a straight panic at the camp, and it takes Akari, Rei, and some of the concerned Survey Corp members to help calm him down

He frets very hard as the expedition slowly crawls by. He does his best to throw himself into his work, but he finds himself writing more about how guilty he feels and how he wants to apologize to you than about any of the Pokémon he encounters. Laventon spends a lot of time trying to plan some sort of grand gesture for you, ideas verbose and extraordinary until the kids remind him that most of his ideas aren’t exactly possible? It doesn’t help that Laventon is losing a bit of sleep over this, worrying well into the night if you’ll even wish to see him again, let alone hear his stuttering attempt at an apology

He begs the kids to take him into the field with them, searching best he can for a Pokémon he knows you like and would love to have. He does his best to catch it himself too, despite the dangers and the shenanigans that seem to follow him whenever he takes a single step outside of a camp. The kids help too, both not enjoying how upset the two of you are about this. They track down the Pokémon, let Laventon try to catch one, then fend off the angered ones he draws the attention of. By the time the three return, they’re pretty scuffed up, but successful with their endeavors

“M-my dear, hello again. It’s been quite some time, yes?” Laventon swallows heavily when you just eye him, content to stay on the other side of the room from him. “Y-yes, well, I have a gift for you! I caught it myself, wouldn’t you know, and I. . . I want to apologize. I was abhorrent to you, rude and terrible and plain awful! You have every right to hate me right now, but. . . I was hoping you’d allow me a moment anyway, to try and fix the damage I’ve done to our relationship. Please.”

He’s quick to release the Pokémon he caught and scramble over to your side when you agree. He sits with you, makes endless treats and teas for you, while rambling on about how he’ll never slip up like this ever again. You are perfect, so wonderful! He’d be a fool to push you away.

🍓🍓🍓

If I love anything more than angst it’s the fix-it that comes after!! Thank you, Peach!!!

~Renee

#pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #submas x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #laventon x reader #professor laventon x reader

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vashsmunch · 1 year

Text

Cooking mishaps

Eriks x GN Reader

Synopsis: you’re the cook at a local diner and a girl named lina demands you help a certain someone with his skills

Warnings: none

A/N: okay so TECHNICALLY this isn’t vash but i wrote it for a friend so don’t blame me (also why do yall literally have no content of him HELP)

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Goddddddddd."

You slammed your head into your pillow, forcibly trying to make your brain stop working. If only he weren't so handsome. How different things would be if he weren't the sweetest man you knew. You flopped onto your bed again, groaning loudly. Stupid fucking brain.

It was a little past three, but you couldn't even be bothered to care at that moment. The thoughts had been haunting you all day, and no matter what you did, you couldn't get rid of them. You hated this. You hated this feeling of being so desperately infatuated with someone but knowing it would never work out. It was the cruelest fate the world could give, and you were tired of being its strongest soldier. A deep and heavy sigh left your chest as you eventually dragged yourself out of bed to get ready. Putting your clothes on felt like a chore, and at this point, it kind of was. To wake up every day and not have him with you felt like the end of the universe itself. Dramatic? Sure. Heartbreaking? Always.

But nonetheless, you walked towards your door and plastered on a fake smile before opening it. And there he was, right on the opposite side, leaning against the wall. Eriks smiled as he gave you a sheepish wave. "You ready to go?" He looked as unkempt as always, his long blonde hair framing his face like a cloak. But it was a rugged type of unkemptness, which only made him more desirable. Ugh, stop it.

You linked your arm through the crook of his and nodded. "I'm not the one who'll be paying for everything this time, right?" He chuckled as you stepped out of the house but quickly stopped after he saw you glare at him. Your last grocery excursion resulted in him forgetting his wallet and profusely apologizing to you all the way back home. It wasn't as if you would've minded had it not been for the catastrophe he left in your kitchen while attempting to make bread for the first time. You could still smell the smoke when you entered the room sometimes.

"Don't worry, I brought money this time," You swatted his arm, and he yelped, scrambling to finish his sentence. "Yes, enough to pay you back for damages as well."

These trips with Eriks were simple pleasantries, but you cherished them all the same. You were pretty surprised when he asked you one day if you could teach him how to cook. Well, coerced into asking you would be more fitting. The two of you met when he had just shown up in town; that girl Lina had dragged him into the diner where you worked, demanding that you help him.

"He's hopeless; you're the only one who can help him. PLEASE help him."

Sure, being the line cook gave you some skills, but enough to teach somebody else? Absolutely not. But then you noticed his face: gaunt with sunken cheeks like he'd been through hell and back. It was this that persuaded you to go along with Lina's plan and nothing else. Not because he was handsome with his stubble or because he had given you the most pathetic and charming smile you'd ever seen. Not at all.

The two of you walked out of the store after half an hour of you dragging him through all the aisles, picking up household necessities and groceries. You insisted on carrying most of them, claiming he was too frail to pick them up. But as you struggled to walk the last few steps back to your house, he swiftly picked up the bags and walked inside. You stared at his back, your mouth falling open slightly. "Well, if you could've done that, then you should've done it to begin with, you bitch!"

Love was a horrible thing. You offer your entire being to someone and make yourself the most vulnerable you could ever be, only to pray that they don't smash you apart. Such a horrible gamble, but you indulged in it nonetheless. Being in your kitchen, giggling as you helped him learn to properly chop produce and not oversalt food. Watching him out of the corner of your eye, at his kind expression as he laughed along with you. Because in your heart, even though you knew he didn't feel the same, you loved this. Sometimes, he would stand over your shoulder, looking down at your hands, carefully kneading dough. The warmth of his body would overwhelm you and make you start blabbering and pushing him away out of embarrassment.

"A-anyways! Did you see how I didn't overwork it? That's because..."

It was almost childish how naïve you were acting, but you didn't care at this point. Anything to be closer to him.

As the two of you finished your lesson, you sighed happily, dusting your hands off as you watched Eriks pull the finished product out of the oven with mittens. Giddily walking up to him, you softly punched him on the shoulder. "See? Not so bad, is it? Now you know how to make pizza all on your own!" You went to take the pan out of his hands when he suddenly snatched yours.

Your face was instantly on fire as he stared at you from the top of his glasses with a gentle but stern look. "You can't just go touching hot metal things; you'll end up hurt." He let you go, and you slightly stumbled back, your hand still tingling from the sensation. You had always been the more touchy-feely person in this dynamic, making a point to hit him whenever he did or said something dumb. But he'd never done anything back, like a true gentleman (you supposed). While it made you swoon, part (most) of you wished for him to reciprocate. For some sign that maybe he possibly felt the same. And now that he had, your mind was running laps. God.

You tried to smoothly recover, covering your mouth as you coughed nervously. "I would've been fine. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't end up nuking the kitchen again."

Eriks let out a laugh, and you held your breath as he leaned down to meet your gaze. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he softly smiled at you. "That's so mean! But ya know, it's because I had an amazing teacher. You really are talented."

The way he was looking at you... God, why did he have to be so oblivious? Were you simply not forward enough? Or could this all be a game to him? No, that was unlikely. As smart as he was, he could be a bonafide idiot at times. Maybe you just needed to be more direct. You exhaled sharply, drawing up your nonexistent courage, and leaned in closer, your faces inches apart. "So kiss me."

There was complete silence. "Huh?"

"You heard correctly. Kiss me."

He stared at you for what seemed like ages as your knees started to go weak with anxiety. You couldn't tell if he was actually opposed to the idea or not. He had always been an enigma in that sense. Even from the first time you met, you could tell he was hiding something. His expression was kind, but it lacked depth; like everything he was showing was only surface level. So it made this even more complicated because the two of you were just looking at each other, and more than anything, you just wanted to grab his stupid stubble-covered face and-

You froze as he closed the distance, his lips gently pressed against yours. He was hesitant at first, like he was worried you would hit him again out of embarrassment or disgust. But as he felt you relax, he sighed in relief as he gently pushed you against the wall, holding your wrists above your head with one hand. You clenched your fists, trying to calm yourself, but it was impossible. His barely grown-out beard scratched against your face as his finger trailed down your cheek to catch your chin, tipping you closer to him. It was everything you'd imagined and more, and whether it had been minutes or even hours didn't matter. He was here, here at last. And as he pulled away, taking deep breaths of air, he quietly whispered against your mouth. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that. Thank you."

#eriks x reader #trigun eriks x reader #vash x reader #vash x you #trigun stampede

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aurathian · 10 months

Text

HyMart | AO3

for @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: free day! thanks @jimmyjims for inspiring me to write supermarket au zelink this was therapeutic and like i was reliving trauma at the same time. no totk spoilers here!

Fandom: Skyward Sword (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Summary: Link deals with a rude customer and possibly meets the love of his life in his place of work: HyMart.

Link often hears the beeping and buzzing of cash registers in his dreams: swipe, beep… swipe, beep… swipe, beep, err…! An error… and oftentimes those same sounds morph into the blare of his alarm clock. Above him, the fluorescent lights from what had been a supermarket ceiling slowly become filtered sunshine as he opens his eyes.

That’s exactly what woke him up that hot July morning. His dreams soon became reality when he found himself wearing long pants and sweating behind his register. He would wear shorts, but if he did that he would be slapped with a dress code violation. Now, he forlornly scanned items and punched in numbers for a few hours, calling over his customer service manager Ghirahim every now and then for help.

In his flashy work vest that he glued rhinestones onto himself, along with his bedazzled nametag, Ghirahim tutted at one of the customers who insisted the shirt she was buying was only five rupees. “Ma’am, if you found it on a different shelf with different items, it was misplaced. This is ten rupees.” He took this stern tone with many of the customers (which they often perceived as rude), but he was arguably one of the best customer service managers the front end had. Despite the many complaints from customers who felt he was condescending and mean, Ghirahim was never fired. Yet, anyway. Link had no problem with it, since it usually put the customers in their place once they started to get frustrated with whatever employee they chose to take their anger out on that day.

“Then I don’t want it,” the customer, a blonde woman with her hair done in pigtails, snapped. “Put it back.”

“Can you run this back, Link?” Ghirahim asked, oddly kind, and Link nodded. “Oh, and then you can go on your lunch.” This encouraged Link to scamper off even faster to deposit the shirt back on its correct shelf, marked at ten rupees, but in his haste he forgot to take off his HyMart vest. He worked his way through the maze of shelving and aisles and approached the back of the store where the giant EMPLOYEES ONLY door called his name. Beyond that was a hallway, and beyond that was the break room, where his cold sandwich packed in a plastic bag beckoned him closer…

“Excuse me?” a light voice called. Link whirled around, realizing his mistake as his hands naturally found themselves in his vest pockets. “Could you help me find something?”

His eyes landed on a blonde woman carrying a tote bag and wearing a white sundress. His mind flitted between two outcomes: “No, sorry, I’m on break,” and “Sure, what do you need?” A good employee, one that wasn’t on the verge of getting fired everyday, would say sure.

“Yeah, what do you need?” he asked, approaching her.

“Oh, I was looking for this,” the woman said, pulling up a picture on her phone and showing him. “I’m just not sure where to find it.”

“I can take you to where the Loftwing Feed is,” Link said, motioning with his hand for her to follow. He didn’t mind showing customers where to find certain things, but in this case, they needed to travel to the other side of the store. So, to lessen the journey’s awkwardness, he made conversation. “Hot outside, huh?”

“It is. Really, it’s horrible you have to wear long pants.”

“Tell me about it.” A weird silence assumed, as silent as it could be with the outdated pop songs cracking out of the overhead speakers. “So do you, um, own Loftwings?” What a stupid question! If she wasn’t standing right there, he would’ve slapped himself. Why else would she be buying Loftwing Feed?

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Two of them. A red and a blue one.”

Link deliberately slowed his pace. “What are their names?”

“The red one is Cawlin and the blue one is Strich.”

“Interesting names. I used to have one too–it was named Beedle.”

He didn’t miss the way the customer leaned a little forward to peer at his nametag with squinted eyes. Unfortunately, they were arriving at the animal feed aisle.

“Thank you for helping me, Link,” she said, a little too charming, brushing some hair over her shoulder.

“It’s no problem, uh…”

“Zelda.”

“It’s no problem, Zelda.”

That cold sandwich, soggy from sitting in the fridge, tasted a little more lonely that day. Most of his coworkers with whom he was friends were out on the floor, and of course that blonde customer probably hadn’t given him a second thought once she got her heaping bag of bird food. To his surprise, he was excited when his break was over because it meant he was a little closer to going home.

He was back on the register as usual, even though he would’ve preferred a spot down at self checkout, but didn’t complain since the constant flow of people helped pass time faster. That was until an obnoxious man with an equally obnoxious hairdo came up to his register with an overflowing cart.

Link greeted him as he normally would and began to scan as efficiently as he could, sometimes pausing to punch in the numbers for fruits or veggies. The customer didn’t say much to him–just hummed, scrolled on his phone, occasionally nodded at a question. Link found it a little rude but kept on with his job hoping he could quickly finish the customer’s transaction. Everything had been going smoothly; groceries were neatly in bags, all the items were scanned correctly and there had been no system errors.

Then the man pulled out a stack of coupons.

“You want me to use these?” Link asked, picking up the stack. The customer nodded and raised an eyebrow. Link began to scan them, but each one brought up a few dollar signs on the terminal, signifying that they weren’t working, so he inspected them closer.

They expired last year.

“Sir, unfortunately these coupons aren’t working because–”

“They should work.” Ah, so he does speak. “I made sure it’s for all the right items. You can look yourself.” He pointed at the mountain of bags.

Link repeated himself after heaving a sigh to maintain his composure. “They aren’t working because they’re expired. These expired last year, sir.”

The customer dramatically exhaled and fumbled around his pocket, fishing out his wallet and picking through it exaggeratedly. He slammed a card on the ledge by the card reader and then pulled out another one.

“Okay, fine, if you won’t take my coupons, can I at least use this?” The red-haired man shoved a blue card into Link’s face. The words on it read Zora Juice. He could hardly believe his eyes–this was a gift card for a smoothie store. This man, this customer, was standing in the middle of a HyMart trying to pay for his groceries with a smoothie store gift card.

“Um, sir, this is for Zora Juice,” Link informed him after spending a moment mustering up the courage to do so.

“Yes.”

“Okay… this is a HyMart.”

“Yeah, I know.” The customer ran his hand over his bright red pompadour.

“This is a different store. You can’t use this gift card here.”

There was a pause as the air in the store stilled and time screeched to a halt. The customer–whose name was Groose, based on the debit card he put on the ledge–seemed to be going through the five stages of grief with the way his face contorted into twenty different expressions all at once. Then, he exploded.

Groose snapped at him, asking why he couldn’t properly do his job, saying this is why kids need to stay in school, that Link was an incompetent cashier, all other kinds of insults under the HyMart ceiling. Link glanced nervously over to the customer service desk where Ghirahim was dealing with a rush and clearly frazzled, the way he waved his hands about and the faces he was making. There’d be no way to get him over for help, so Link braced himself for the worst.

The customer was about to turn as red as his hair when suddenly, a finger in his face cut him off.

“And just who do you think you are?”

“I– uh–”

Link could hardly contain his shock when he saw Loftwing Feed woman, in her sundress and holding her tote bag, pointing a finger directly in Groose’s face.

“It’s not his fault those coupons or that card doesn’t work. Why do you insist on bothering him?”

“I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

Groose stared at her for a few moments and the cashier, now awkwardly caught in the middle, didn’t miss the way his entire body softened for just a moment. But then Groose shook his head, swiped his debit card, and left with his groceries in a huff.

The woman–Zelda, that’s her name–stepped up to the register as Link began to scan her items, bringing himself down from the nerves and excitement of that encounter. Rude customers always had him a little shaky, but it was different this time having someone to support him.

“Um, thank you,” he finally said after a few moments of silence, poked with buzzes and beeps.

“It’s no problem. I used to work in a supermarket, too.” Her eyes darted around nervously, tapping her foot. “Say, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but do you like coffee?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me up in the mornings,” Link joked, typing in some numbers on his terminal. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you would be interested in getting a coffee with me sometime.”

If Link did not have customer service training, he would’ve jumped for joy and said yes immediately, but he kept himself composed, used his hand scanner on her Loftwing Feed, and then answered.

“Sure.”

“Great, sounds good.”

Link handed her the receipt, but she instead pulled a pen from her bag, wrote some numbers on it, and handed it back to him. Her phone number.

“You might need this on your way out–”

“It’s okay!” she said, already walking off with her cartload of items, Loftwing Feed neatly tucked into the bottom. Thankfully, he watched her walk out of the doors without being stopped by one of the greeters, but his trance was broken by a customer waving in his face.

“Hello? Young man?”

Link turned to the customer with a sigh. Until that coffee date, his life would simply be the buzzes and beeps of the register.

#zelink week #zelink week 2023 #zelink #zelda #link #groose #skyward sword #modern au #supermarket au #grocery store au #free day #ghirahim #my writing

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summercourtship · 10 months

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter two: hard times in the city [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual themes | word count: 4111 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

Though Dr. Crane held office hours every Tuesday and Thursday, you only attended his Thursday hours to assist him or anyone who needed help with the class. But you hoped that no one would come in, for a few reasons.

One, it had only been a week and the first assignment wasn’t graded yet. There was nothing to need help with, not yet. If someone came in needing help, you were certain it would be more tedious than anything.

Two, you wanted to be alone with the man, even if you embarrassed yourself in some way almost every single time you are. He was like a drug, something you shouldn’t crave but by god you did. And he hadn’t even touched you.

And the third probably most influential reason was that you were exhausted. You were taking five classes in addition to your assistant position while trying to maintain at least a 20 hour work week. All you wanted was just to finish up the work you were doing right now (homework for an unrelated class) and go home.

And then you groaned as you remember that you don’t just get to go home later, that you had to work a six hour shift at the Stupid Corner Store.

Dr. Crane looked up at you, a question clearly poised on his lips. (His stupid lips.)

(Please erase the next thought from your brain.)

(His stupid, kissable lips that you desperately wanted somewhere, anywhere on your body-)

“I have work tonight.” Just saying it out loud was annoying. But you didn’t even bother entertaining the idea of calling out, knowing how horribly they reacted when you actually had genuine reasons for being out. Besides, you wouldn’t do that to the poor guy you were letting off since they’d probably make him cover your shift if you didn’t go in. And you don’t need that on your conscience.

“The convenience store, correct?” He flipped another paper, sighing and crossing something out.

“Yup.” You popped the end of the word, not much else to say about the hole you worked in.

“What time will you be off?”

“I get off-” Hm, don’t say that. “I’m done with my shift at eleven.” Because your boss forgot to care about you being mugged the last time you worked a late shift. Or just forgot that it happened at all.

“Walking home?” He flipped another page.

“Yup.”

“I’ll give you a ride home.” He wasn’t asking if he could, and he said it so casually like he was a friend from work, not your professor.

“What?” Your head snaps up to his but he’s not even looking at you. “You don’t need to do that- I’m sure it’s really out of your way and it’s late-”

Now he was looking at you. The slightly irked expression was on his face again, the same one he had in the cafe when you’d pushed back against him helping you out with your career.

“Let me take you home.” His voice was soft but firm. Insistent.

And when he says it like that, what can you do but agree?

You left office hours ninety minutes later, shrugging on your raincoat before stepping into the torrential downpour, immediately turning in the opposite direction from your house.

You really hated your job.

Sometimes, you could tolerate it or even convince yourself that it wasn’t that bad. But when you’d had a full day of classes, office hours, and whatever-the-hell you had going on with Dr. Crane, you just wanted to go back to your apartment and collapse on your bed, fast asleep before you even hit the duvet.

But you trudged through the rain, sighing in defeat when the flickering neon sign proclaiming the store as OPEN came into view. The store wasn’t even warm when you got inside, the space heater still behind the counter. The heat had been broken since last year and that was their solution. Your co-worker, Robby, slumped down when he saw you entered, relief evident in his body. He just started working at the shop a few weeks ago and you estimated that he’ll last about two more before either quitting or being fired for something stupid.

How you managed to escape either of those fates is beyond you.

You waved at him as you passed the register, headed back to drop your stuff off.

You threw your bag on a chair in the breakroom, which was a glorified closet, and grabbed your badge, clocking in at the ancient computer on a rickety desk.

And then began another boring evening shift. If it was sunny out, you could watch the sunset through the windows of a nearby skyscraper for some entertainment. But it was raining and the streetlamps were already on, illuminating the street in their orange glow.

At least you had the heater on you now, burning your legs while your hands still trembled with cold.

The hours slowly crept past you, the yacht rock playing on the loudspeaker giving you a headache. You were so tired of Sweet Caroline and it somehow came on every ten songs. The only thing getting you through the night was the thought of your downright heavenly full sized bed at home.

Finally, your replacement swept into the store, his dark frame glasses foggy from the rain. You, like Robby before you, slumped in relief against the counter, immediately going to grab your stuff so you could leave.

All you had to do now was walk home, which was still nerve wracking. Probably more now that you had actually been mugged only a few months ago.

You stepped into the rainy evening, your book bag on your shoulder, about to start your trek back home when someone called your name, the voice slicing through the constant patter of raindrops like a knife. You whipped your head to the direction of the sound, balking when you saw who was waiting for you.

Dr. Crane was leaning out of the driver’s window of a sleek black car, and you realized that you had completely forgotten about his offer.

“Come on, get out of the rain.”

A moment passed where you simply stared at him before you snapped back into your body. And realized that you were getting drenching just standing there and there was a much better option right in front of you.

You hurried over to the passenger seat, flattening yourself against the car as vehicles zoomed by on the road, waiting for an opening to slip into the car without risking the door or yourself being dragged down the road by a passing vehicle. Surely he could have parked with the passenger side to the sidewalk, right? But it was an odd parking set-up on this road, so you didn’t blame him for choosing the one closest to the shop.

Heart racing, you finally managed to hop into the car, wincing as water droplets fly off your coat and into the interior.

“Sorry-”

“No worries. It’s Gotham, you can’t really avoid the rain.”

“That’s true.” You smiled, adjusting your bag on your lap, almost hugging it to you to calm your nerves about being in Dr. Crane’s (very nice smelling) car. (It was so warm, leather seats comfortable against your body, rock music playing softly in the background- not yacht rock either, but a droning, almost soothing wall of sound. You could fall asleep here, you could live in this warmth.)

“There's a coffee for you, if you want it.” He nodded down to the drink holder where, sure enough, there was a cardboard cup with a slow trickle of steam escaping from the hole in the lid. Your stomach flipped at the sight, the thought of him getting coffee specifically for you sending flutters across your entire body. The cold from the rain had already settled into your bones so you don’t think twice about the caffeine as you pick it up. You had homework to do, anyway, it would help.

You took a sip of the coffee, sighing as your insides are warmed by the stream of somewhat sweet liquid. It’s not your typical order but you’ll take free coffee anyday.

“Thank you for the coffee and, again, for picking me up, you really didn’t have to-”

“These streets aren’t safe for anyone at this time of night. I would hate to lose a good TA because of some lowlife.”

His clinical, detached way of explaining his reasoning stung. Like he didn’t actually care about picking you up so you’d be safe but instead making sure you were still an efficient and non-injured worker after your late shift.

But then again, he also confirmed that only a week into the class he already considered you a “good TA.”

You win some, you lose some.

“Well. Thank you.” Was your voice a bit tense now? You took another sip of your coffee, using it as a visual reassurance that he cared about you in some capacity, right? He wouldn’t have bought it for you if he didn’t give a shit about you on a personal level.

The car fell into a silence and you couldn’t decide whether or not it was awkward. On one hand, you’d clearly discovered during office hours that Dr. Crane doesn’t talk much in these situations, the personal ones. If there was nothing professional to discuss, he was quiet. On the other hand, you had just tragically failed to begin a conversation (which he had tragically murdered, so maybe you were both at fault here).

He didn’t ask you how your shift was (normal and mind-numbingly boring) or if you’d seen any good movies lately (nope). In the few one-on-one conversations you’d had with him, he hardly asked anything about you. Sure, he wanted to know about your plans for the future but that’s not the same as wanting to know your favorite band or what you did when you were alone with nothing else to do.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say. Traffic was, like always at this time of night, bad. The constant stopping and starting of the car would normally make you car sick but Dr. Crane had a way of driving that smoothed these transitions out, making the entire ride feel like one continuous motion, a hazy dream.

You decided, then, to rest your head back and not worry about making conversation. If he didn’t want to speak, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill his silence. Even if your nerves were fluttering around in your stomach like restless bats, which you decided to blame on the caffeine in the coffee.

You only realized once he pulled up in front of your apartment, putting the car into neutral, that there was one important question he hadn’t asked you, and it was perhaps why your stomach had been twisting in anxiety with each turn. You stared up at your building through the passenger window, before slowly turning to Dr. Crane, trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Trying desperately to ignore the fear spiking as you were faced with the reality of needing to ask: “How did you know where my building was?”

A question that he only gives a miniscule shake of his head to, looking at you like you’re being silly (or worse, stupid).

“You told me when I offered to pick you up.”

You’re certain that you didn’t. You didn’t even remember his offer until he showed up at your workplace. It was that unremarkable to you- so you would have remembered giving your address to him, your mind would have come up with scenarios where him holding that knowledge would come in handy. He could have easily said that he saw it on one of the forms you had to fill out or in your student information that you knew he looked at before. But he didn’t say any of that, instead choosing to tell you that you told him. When you hadn’t.

You let the silence linger for a moment, letting the music fill in the empty space.

“...Right.” You didn’t bother hiding the fact that you didn’t believe it, furrowing your brow and narrowing your eyes. He showed no sign of being fazed by your obvious disbelief and discomfort, only that little quirk of his head he does when looking at you sometimes.

Like he was examining a specimen at a museum, one that had surpassed his initial expectation.

You weren’t sure how you felt about being subjected to his scrutiny like this, like you were a test subject.

Finally, he broke eye contact, your impromptu staring competition over as he looked out of the windshield at your building.

“There’s a sponsorship gala being held next month for the university. I would like it if you would join me as my plus one.” If you could get whiplash from a conversation, this sudden turn in topic would do it for you. It’s not like your clunky changes when you’re on the phone with your mother, which are fueled purely by your desire to not talk about uncomfortable subjects.

You blinked at him, certain you had somehow hallucinated this change, that you had blacked out for a moment and missed the smooth transition from your questions to this.

When he didn’t clarify, you figured you had heard him correctly and he was just deciding to ignore your discomfort.

“...Why?” You were not the type to be invited to galas, let alone attend them.

“You’re my TA. We’re a team, right?”

A team.

“I guess.”

“I would enjoy your being there.”

And despite your discomfort about him knowing where you lived and being unwilling to give you the reason for why he knew it, your heart skipped a beat, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I’ll think about it.” It was best with Dr. Crane, you decided then, not to make any immediate decisions. He had a way, though, of siphoning them out of you like blood, convincing you to bend to his whim before you even realized it.

So you did the next best thing and left.

You opened the door, beginning your exit from the car, reaching down to grab your bag. Before you could, a pale hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, not tightly but steady, with calming pressure against your pulse. You barely stifle your gasp, your skin electrified from where he’s touching you, your veins live wires.

“Be safe.” You looked up from where you’d been staring at the connection between your wrist and his palm, right into his eyes.

“O-of course.” You pulled yourself free of his hold, mind clearing the moment he let you go. For some reason you can’t place, tiny tendrils of anxiety are swirling in your stomach- perhaps lingering discomfort from before that was only temporarily alleviated by his touch.

You stepped out of the warm car, effectively cutting the conversation short, grimacing at the icy cold rain as it began hitting your skin again. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked up to your building’s door, but you held back on looking at him until you opened it and were sure you’re at a safe enough distance to avoid being sucked back into his magnetic field.

You waved goodbye at the dark car, at the man watching you.

He didn’t wave back.

But still, you looked after him as he left, watching as his car joined the multitude of others and you finally lost sight of him.

You thought a lot about his hand over the next day, distracted in your actual classes the next day. You could still feel his touch on your wrist, the way the pad of his thumb pressed right against the pressure point that calmed your anxiety. It’s only when the professor of your historiography class dismissed you that you look at your notes and just see a rough sketch of a hand, no notes on any of the things you’d discussed in class (which, when you thought about it, you weren’t even sure you comprehended you were so distracted).

“What a cliche.” You muttered as you snapped the notebook shut, shoving it back in your bag. You could survive not paying attention in a few classes because there was no way you were turning your brain on for your second and last class, not when you’d apparently already spent half of the day doodling hearts.

At least you weren’t writing his name and yours together. (Yet).

****

You could not believe that some people made it all the way to their senior year of college and still didn’t know the difference between to, too, and two. You crossed out yet another too where the student obviously meant to, sighing. It’s just another red mark on the essay you’re currently looking over that is already covered in red marks, corrections on par with Dr. Crane’s usual method of grading.

Part of you thinks that the assignment was also acting as sort of a test for you- for Dr. Crane to see how well you could maintain his level of standards, how efficiently you could grade. You were certain that if he wasn’t absolutely confident in your abilities after this, he would create a thorough guide for you to reference when grading. And you didn’t want him to feel the need to do that, not for you.

It’s why you were wasting your Saturday night- one of the few nights this week you aren’t working a shift at the Stupid Corner Store- cross legged on the couch with your headphones over your ears, surrounded by papers.

You looked up when the TV screen- that you hadn’t turned off, for whatever reason, instead opting to just pause whatever show you were watching though you had no intention of continuing it that night- finally fell asleep. And then you practically jumped out of your skin when you noticed a figure behind you in TV’s reflection, only minimally relaxing out of flight mode when you realized who it was.

The Batman was on your balcony, again.

He didn’t knock, or move, or do anything to indicate he wanted to come inside and yet you knew that he wouldn’t be there if he didn’t need something. Like a lightning bolt had hit you, you spring into action, jumping up while pulling your headphones down to your neck and leaping over the scattered papers to get to the door.

You practically threw the door aside in your hurry to get to him. As much as you would like to begin your second meeting with a cute quip, something stupid and flirtatious like “Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me,” you know he isn’t here for pleasure. Maybe you did something wrong that you didn’t know about, but you’re certain he’s here for help, whatever that may be.

You examined him, trying to find whatever’s wrong. His eyes are unfocused, his breath heavy, but you see no injuries- at least not physically or externally. He stared past you into your living room but he clearly isn’t seeing anything that’s actually there, his eyes moving around the space rapidly.

You quickly stepped aside from the opening in the door, sharply gesturing for him to enter with one hand.

“Get in.”

He complied, though his steps aren’t as sure footed as you would expect from him. Your gaze followed as he entered your space, watching him apprehensively. You only slid the door closed once you’re certain he wouldn’t immediately collapse into a pile of armor and muscle.

“What do you need?” You’re already moving to the bathroom, your apartment small enough that you were able to keep an eye on him even in the small room. You grabbed your First Aid kit from under the sink, not sure what you’ll need from it. It wasn’t very well stocked but it had enough to patch up a wound until he could get actual medical help.

“You… were close.” He said in greeting, his voice strained. He was leaning against the counter, his teeth clenched and eyes closed. You gently placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes spring open, pupils dilated but quickly focusing on you.

His eyes were blue, a stormy color like dusk in Gotham.

You guided him to your table, recalling the offhanded thought you’d had all those months ago when he’d saved you about him sitting in one of your mismatched chairs. But with him obviously in pain or distress or whatever the hell was happening to him, it wasn’t the amusing image you had thought it would be.

“What happened to you?”

He grunted in response, stumbling slightly as he obeyed your guidance and sat down. “Gas.”

Your mind raced with every scenario he could mean. A gas leak? Chemical warfare? …Indigestion?

“Do I need to call someone?” You squatted by his side, placing the first-aid kit on the floor and popping it open. You really needed to restock some of the items- being mugged and attacked had severely depleted your supplies. But doing this was better than just sitting there, wringing your hands and doing nothing. “The GCPD, hospital-”

“No-” He coughed, but already he’s seeming less inebriated and lost, his eyes returning to their usual intensity, no longer clouded with something else. “I’ve dealt with it once before. Just need time for it to get out of my system.”

“When you say gas-“

“Weaponized.” He doesn’t elaborate. And for your own mental health’s sake, you’re okay with him keeping it to himself. No use worrying about the new villain in town until you had to.

“Right.“

You lamely shut the first aid box. It was silly to think that you would be patching him up. Of course, he just needed a quick place he knew was safe to hide until he could get back out there. He probably had an entire team of nurses ready to patch him up back at his headquarters or wherever it was he went when he was done saving the city.

You crossed from the table back to your couch, sighing as you sunk back into the cushions. Now that you’d been distracted from it, you really didn’t want to get back into grading.

You turned your head back to the vigilante in your kitchen, only to see him already watching you.

“I was busy when you came in.” You explained, though you’re not sure why. He didn’t respond verbally, only standing and approaching you slowly. He stopped just before he got to the mess of your living-room-office-area, staring at the scattered papers and psychology books that you had moved from your bedroom to the side table.

“What is this?”

“Grading. I’m a TA.” You shrugged.

He tilted his head and you realized he’s reading the (heavily annotated, covered in notes and reminders) syllabus you almost always have splayed on the couch when it’s not in your bag. His jaw worked back and forth before he looked back at you. His pupils were normal, his eyes completely free from the fog that was over them before.

“Are you better now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

You drummed your fingers against your thigh.

“Do you want anything to eat-”

But he’s already turned, moving around your couch to the balcony door.

“Alright.” You whispered to yourself, annoyed that he was once again leaving without even saying a word of greeting or goodbye.

Before he exited the apartment, the Batman stopped by the cork board hanging on the wall. He paused, examining the fliers and other scraps of paper you’d put on there. It wasn’t special, just a place to put things to keep them kind of in your brain (though you often forgot about the corkboard, to be honest, some of the things were so old.)

But before you can ask him what he’s staring at, he turned to look back at you one more time, not saying anything, before leaving back out of your fire escape. You watch out of your window, but with the shadows it’s hard to tell where he’s going.

When you’re certain he’s left for good, you go back to the board, trying to figure out what he had been staring at.

And then you see it.

Barely sticking out from behind a flier for the Sponsorship Gala is your ticket from the Bella Real campaign party at Gotham Square Garden.

And you wonder, for a brief moment before shaking it off as wishful thinking, if he had remembered you from that night.

chapter three, pt I

#stbotdi #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #my writing #my fic

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obitohno · 1 year

Text

˖⁺‧₊˚ jordy’s 2k celebration ˚₊‧⁺˖

hanma shuji x reader

hanma just wants a cigarette.

requested by @virtue-and-beneviolence

gn! reader, fluff, piggybacks, shoplifting, breaking and entering, mentions of cigarettes

reblogs are appreciated ~

you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

you don’t know how it was possible for hanma to convince you to break into the local convenience store—all because he’d puffed on his last cigarette an hour ago, and no, he couldn’t just wait until the morning, because he needs one. right now, apparently.

only, his plan went horribly wrong.

because, despite the fact that he’d even gone as far as pinky-promising that he’d done this a million times, so just chill, ‘cause he knows what he’s doing, the security alarm was triggered as soon as he’d picked the lock. the two of you would have made your escape with plenty time to spare, if not for the fact that he’d insisted upon stealing away with a packet of his favourite cigarettes crushed into the palm of his hand, sporting a manic smile that he aims towards the camera before yanking you out of the door.

it is with his aid that you safely make it over the ridiculously tall iron-laced gate that you most certainly shouldn’t be jumping over, and yet, because you’re rushing due to the angrily barked ‘hey!’ that is bellowed after you, he decides that the quickest way to escape is to launch you up and over to the other side.

unsurprisingly, you land rather roughly, the soles of your trainers scuffing against the pavement as you just manage to regain your balance. you’re glaring, spitting a pained curse from between your lips just as he hops over the damned gate like it’s nothing, landing with all the grace that you lack as you hobble on an ankle that is most definitely twisted. he’s inching towards you, the stretch of his mouth curling into a wide smile as he eyes the shape of your scowl.

‘oops.’

oops?

you’re seething, cursing not only him, but yourself for going along with his stupid idea, all because he’d flashed you a pout that had had you giving in before the word ‘no’ could form on the tip of your tongue.

he has the audacity to snort, making a show of a poor attempt to look regretful, and then he’s reaching, the press of his fingers biting into the plush of your thighs as he hoists you onto the safety of his back. and then, with the shrill voice of the security alarm still bleating after you, the two of you disappear as quickly as you’d arrived.

the journey back home is short, hastened by his brisk pace. your ankle throbs; you don’t have to look to know that it’s swollen. sighing, your forehead presses to his shoulder, skin prickling with goosebumps when his thumb strokes over your shin, sincerely apologetic, this time.

‘i owe you one, doll.’

‘you owe me several,’ you remind him, trying—and failing—to smother the pull of a grin that morphs the corners of your mouth.

his answering laugh is one that bubbles from the back of his throat, cackled into the empty sky.

#♡ jordy’s 2k celebration ♡#♡ jordy is writing ♡#tr x reader #tr x you #tr fluff #tr imagines #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev fluff #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma fluff #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #hanma imagine #tokrev imagines

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slayagami · 1 year

Text

i. midoriya

bashful pro-hero midoriya to the coffee shop’s barista ):

part 2 (soon..)

which is true. you do notice him, how could someone miss an attractive costumer with bright green hair and curls covered with a white cap? you'd be stupid not to notice. you took note the first day he walked in, his lips pursed in thought as he looked though the menu on the wall. a total hottie. and he came often, ordering the same thing, sitting in the same spot. I mean, he came often because it was good right? you'd like the believe so. when he ordered his drink, you added a little more extra milk foam and two more pumps of syrup than you normally would; he seemed like the type with a sweet tooth. and after a while, you began writing a thanks of the cup sleeve too, a way to show you acknowledge him. maybe he wouldn't get it, or maybe he didn't care, but you had hope. hope in the way he watched you work, meticulous and precise. you hope he notices the writing on the cup sleeve, or the fact that you take a little more time on his order. you hope he notices something different about the cup today, you’re written number instead of a ‘thanks’. with a gentle voice, you placed the cup down on the counter and called him. almost embarrassingly, you turned around and prayed for the best, letting a breath of air you didn’t know you held.

izuku gratefully took the cup into his car, almost cradling it and he bowed politely in your direction. he sat in his usual spot, emerald eyes trailing your figure. he smiled, feeling shy and nervously glancing down towards the cup. he noticed the writing on the cup was different, a set of numbers instead of your gratitude. an action that flushed his face red in excitement and bashfulness. the tips of his ears flared before quickly (almost desperately) pulling his phone out and typing in the number, fast to text first.

unknown: hey! are you the barista who put your number on the cup sleeve?

rush hour started. he knew you’d be busy so he decided to leave, ears still red, and wait until after his patrol shift to check his phone again and see your response (hopefully).

and you did. almost as soon as you opened your phone and saw the message. you screamed, jumping lightly on your toes and erupting your lips into a huge smile.

midoriya loves the hidden coffee shop down the street from his house. he loves sitting at the one-person booth in the corner with his back facing the window, watching the customers. he loves waiting in line with his white cap hung low on his eyes, a horrible attempt to hide his identity as pro hero deku. he loves walking up to the counter and warmly greeting the cashier, ordering the same warm cup of coffee every time. he loves watching you behind the counter, nodding at the order and getting to it, your hands moving swiftly while adding in the syrups and foaming the milk. he wasn't sure what you did to make his drink taste so good, in fact it's the only coffee he'll ever get now. sure, barista's have a certain drink recipe they have to follow for the store, but he swears yours is just different. he even came on your day off, several times, just to see if maybe all drinks from this store taste the same or if the other baristas can't make it well. they were good, he'll give them that, but it wasn't yours. he loves the way you make it, and he loves the way you call out his order and place it on the empty counter with the sleeve having a hand-written 'thank you!'. a small gesture, but he knows its yours. he also knows out of the hundreds of drink you make a day, you only take out the pen from your pocket on his order. maybe you know he's Deku, or maybe all you know is he's a regular with the same order, but you definitely notice him. he knows it.

#kiwi’s works. 🧃#izuku midoriya #my hero academia x reader #midoriya x reader #my hero academia #THIS IS SO CUTE #deku #izuku x reader #midoriya fluff

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emotionalvulcan · 6 months

Text

yayyy vent time and by vent time I mean complaining-about-ib-econ-and-my-unfortunate- and-horribly-catastrophic-choice-in-picking-that-class time

so was it the worst choice I've ever made in my life?...

most likely

number 1 factor in my annoying period of extra depression² ?...

mhm yes

do I have an exam tomorrow that I am not at all equipped to do?...

absolutely

is there blood rushing in my ears with no signs of stopping?...

seems like it

are my nails and surrounding skin destroyed?...

of course, you best believe it

am I also procrastinating writing this stupid paper II mock exam that is like ¼ complete?...

unfortunately yes (pls end me, what a horrible fate awaits me)

should I have listened when the smartest person I know told me to switch out of this class?...

yes I really fucking should have they were right like always fuck

this isn't even accounting for the other horrifying stress that are in store for me

yes most of the suffering ends friday but that also means that I have until friday to not get fucked.... now lets see what awaits me

ah yes just your usual 1,000 words part ⅔ of my extended essay of which my diploma depnds on and then oh wow would you look at that... another like 1,000 word econ essay which... no way... my diploma also depends on... not to mention my usual list of homework

and now for an even sooner due date of lovely good old wednesday of which i have to finish 10 whole pages of a review packet for apush

opps and what's this... I have to go work at the library for some stupid 100 community hours that... wait... what's that?... my diploma also depends on? who would've guessed... this is literally so stupid what

I hate the public school sy- nono I hate the school system in general

especially ib

like I'm so sorry I have a life and am too stupid in math and don't understand a bunch of graphs

I do not care for your stupid knowledge

what I want to learn I will do so on my own and enjoy my time exponentially more than I ever would by sitting in your horrid prisons of paper and concrete

its funny too because I remember complaining to my mother about ib and telling her that I wanted to and that I could switch academies

then she offered

and wanting to be all strong and brave and whatever other bullshit I was feeling at the time

I chose to stay in it thinking i could do this alone

well would ya look at that losers

guess who's the one losing out in the end

the one time I didn't follow through with my cowardly coping mechanisms of running away from my problems

and what do I get for it?

tears in my face?

ridiculous

well actually the 2 times (not running from ib and not running from ib econ)

only need 3 more for it to be part of one of those fics "the 5 times blank did this and the one time blank did it back"

funny how it'll be over so soon but it sure doesn't feel like it

funny how it all feels so right and yet so wrong at all the same times and sometimes they just take turns

how I can be happy for such few days on the weekends when I get some breaks and then the weeks feel like nonstop punches to the gut

beyond elated for thanksgiving break since they give us a whole week off this year

only thing is...

that's next week

so it's almost like I have to get shot in the face before i can properly rest for a short while

watch me write more in this short time span than I ever will for my stupid paper II or aa2

also wtf I just spent like the last 30mins writing this I'm going to fail my exam tomorrow because I still have to finish the mock exam and then study

#hate everything #ib life #fuck ib econ #i do not understand why this class is just not in a language i understand #almost as if it repels me #hoping college is easier or else we're sending it

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mystxmomo · 2 years

Note

Re: the importance of Dave getting to be brothers with Dirk

I see a lot of fics dig into the Angst Factor of trying to befriend/be family with a living reminder of the guy who made your childhood hell, and the unease Dave would experience anytime Dirk displayed any characteristics that were similar to Bro. And like, that perspective does definitely make sense, but I also think there’s an additional layer where getting to see Dirk’s similarities to Bro is actually healing in a way?

Because Dirk is so deeply ridiculous and uncool, and I think having some of Bro’s traits reframed in that context would really help chip away at any of Dave’s lingering childhood idolization of him—without having to turn to flat-out demonizing a guy who, as you mentioned, Dave absolutely at his core can’t actually hate as much as he thinks he should.

And as much as he might have unpacked it on the meteor, “Bro is cool” was one of the foundational axioms for most of Dave’s life, and some honest to god evidence to the contrary would be a thing to behold. Like, Dirk takes his gloves off, and Dave gets to realize that Bro must have had those stupid looking tan lines too.

Dave, watching Dirk (who has only had three hours of sleep in the last week) accidentally soldering his own hand because he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and only react with the soft, dissociative: "... Oh. Cool.": "Jesus Fucking Christ."

Dave, watching Dirk jump up with a sword because Karkat yelled a bit too loudly from the other room and he got startled so his reaction was "okay sword": "Jesus fucking Christ."

Dave watching Dirk 404 in the grocery store because the dude forgot his orange juice and just realized it and is looking down at his cart like it was the reason he forgot his orange juice, and for it's carnal sin of messing with his plans it must melt in place: "Alright. Dude come on now."

Yeah no you're absolutely right. Dirk Strider is like a hotspot of neurosis, with a head so messy it makes the goddamn DSM look like a check list. He's such a ridiculous fucking person it's unreal.

Here's something contriversal, and perhaps even brave I'll bring up. Apologies ahead of time I have a lot of thoughts on the complexities of how abuse is handled in fiction so you're getting me in my zone.

Even in au's where there's only bro. No Dirk, no game, Dave grew up in Bro's care and has to come to terms with the circumstances of his home life? He needs to come to terms with the fact that Bro is, just, absolutely fucking ridiculous. Just, as a person. Who likes puppets that much? Bro works in the puppet porn sex industry. He centered the entirety of his abuse around the movie Saw and left deranged muppet babies comics around the house for Dave to find. Dave needs to, in any reality, have that moment where he realizes that bro isn't this larger than life hero, and he isn't the be all end all of evil. He's just a horribly fucked up person who did horrible things. Because the grandiose is harder to come to terms with then the humane.

Another mistake I think a lot of people make when writing for abuse, with as tempting as it is to do if you haven't experienced it yourself, is make it so that literally every experience Dave had with Bro is bad. Familial abuse is ridiculously fucking complex like that, and would just add to the mixed feelings Dave would have about bro. We know bro canonically kept up with Dave's comics, and taught him how to work turntables. I think it's absolutely crucial when writing for the Strider brothers to give those moments in there, and not taint them with some looming dread. Having these moments doesn't negate the fact that abuse happened, and only adds to the complexity of the situation.

I think the final thing I'll add is?? I think, bro did genuinely care about Dave. Perhaps even love him. And I don't think there's a catch to that. I think that love and abuse are not mutually exclusive. People, parents especially, can and do often hurt the ones they love in an attempt to "better" them. There's an argument to be had about whether or not that they actually love you, or the idea of you, but it's love nonetheless. And I think THAT would fuck Dave up. Because I think, despite (and perhaps even because of) the way he was raised, his idea of love ends up being incredibly gentle. He's such.. a natural pacifist, who cares so strongly. The fact that someone can love, and hurt the ones they love, would fuck with him. Let alone the fact that it happened to him.

#dave strider #bro strider #homestuck #abuse #uhhh yeah writing for complex relationships is my forte i dont think if ive ever mentioned that to the homestucks but i have many thoughts

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otakugoddes · 2 years

Text

🎃Day 1: Pumpkin Carving (Akinori Konoha)🎃

DAY 1: PUMPKIN CARVING (KONOHA AKINORI)

Gender neutral Reader

Warnings: Post-Timeskip but no spoilers revealing such !A bit of profanity, Establisted relationship, Suggestive edge at the end.

A/n: Konoha is hot. I meant to post this yesterday but I went to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were busy hauling pumpkins from your car to your kitchen, with immense difficulty, as the humongous vegetable weight more than a kilo at best.

It was the first day of the Spooky month, October.

You were planning on carving pumpkins to put up as decorations with your boyfriend Akinori, but he wasn't here yet. He was supposed to be back from the candy store an hour ago already.

You rolled your eyes, "I really cant trust this asshole with a small list of stuff! He's gonna buy the entire store!"

As you admired the burnt orange vegetable you took out a carving knife.

"This is halloween...this is halloween!" You hummed as you began cutting the top of the pumpkin.

So deep in your thoughts to feel the looming presence behind you.

A hand came to gently grasp the back of your neck and whisper, "I've come for your soul!"

You got such a shock that you turned around with the knife still in your hand, only to groan when you saw your boyfriend laughing at your unimpressed expression.

"Aki, you asshole!" You slapped his chest while he laughed, he keeled over snorting.

"Your face! Oh my god your face!" He said between wheezes of chuckles.

You kicked him and turned back around, putting down the knife before the urge threaten him with it came up.

He stopped laughing and watched your shoulders relax when you breathed out, he out his arms around your waist. Akinori smirked against your neck before kissing your slowly racing pulse, "You look so hot when you're mad! You miss me babe?"

You rolled your eyes, scoffing, "No! Honestly you scared me half to death...if I didn't see your stupid laughing face, you'd have lost an eye!"

He grinned, "I think I'd look good with an eyepatch and badass scar!"

You huffed, turning back to your precious pumpkin and drawing eyes where you'd cut it.

Akinori worked on the opposite end of the counter, hauling bag after bag of what you guessed was double the items of the list you gave him. And some additional candies.

He looked over at your pumpkin.

"That's cool! You're gonna carve a skeleton?"

You grinned up at him, "Yeah! I found this awesome idea on pinterest and decided to try it out!" You showed him the saved picture on your phone, "See?"

Akinori nodded and packed the candy out, you saw him take out another pumpkin, smaller than yours but still a nice one.

"So whatcha gonna carve?"

"Something that'll scare the kids!"

You chuckled, "Sadist!"

"Its gonna be so scary...that it'll blow your skeleton Sam away!"

You raised a brow, his statement challenging you. You put down the carving knife to put your chin in your palms on the countertop, "Is that so? You wanna bet that your carving skills are better than mine?"

He grinned, teasing, "Of course mine are better!"

"Really? Then how about a bet! If your pumpkin carving is scarier and better than mine, you can get all the candy for a week!"

"I accept the challenge! May the master of true fright win!"

~~~~~~~~~

The two of you set off to different spots in the house to carve out your pumpkins, agreeing to show then off at 5PM sharp.

Akinori had been slaving away, peeling and shaping his pumpkin.

He could taste all the candy canes already.

At 5PM, he and his horrible pumpkin were ready to terrify you.

He had used the picture to create a moderately accurate disfigured jack o' lantern face.

"Hey babe? Its 5 already! You cant still be carving!" He called out teasingly, victory smelling like it was his already.

He started to get a bit irritated with your lack of answer, "Hey! We agreed that at 5 we would show our pumpkins...you're cheating right now!"

Still no answer.

He decided to go up to your bedroom.

"Babe?" He knocked on the door.

Again no answer.

He opened the door to find you sitting at the desk, hands still carving the pumpkin with headphones on, no wonder you couldn't hear. Trying to be good-natured, he walked over to remind you that it was time.

"Hey...loser, get up!" He tried to grap your hand.

Only to grab a skeleton arm straight out of the jacket sleeve.

He shrieked, throwing the hand away and turning your body, "Is this a prank? Babe?!"

A horribly mangled jack o' lantern face grinned up at him where your head should have been, the sudden movement making the head fall at his feet.

Akinori screamed, like an actual shout.

While he was panicking as to what he was supposed to do with the creepy pumpkin sitting at his feet, a hand grabbed his shoulder and he screamed...again.

This time he was facing a pumpkin with a skeleton carved out of it.

"I've come for your soul!" The pumpkin with your body rasped.

He pushed you away and shrieked.

Then you started laughing.

"Oh your face! Your face!" You wheezed, taking the pumpkin away from your head and falling on the floor laughing. He watched your ministrations with a horrified expression.

"Y-you...," he stuttered.

"I think I just scared your soul back to the underworld! Now I can't collect it...pity!" You smirked at him before putting your arms around his neck.

"Were you scared babe?"

He half-laughed, his heart still racing.

"You are a cruel jerk!"

"Its only payback!"

He looked at your two pumpkins and sighed, he lost, before he even tried to win.

"Guess you get all the candy!" He pouted.

You kissed him before taking a packet of gummy worms from your pocket and putting them in your mouth, "Of course I get all the candy!"

He followed you in hauling your two pumpkins downstairs and pat his miserable looking one.

"Don't feel bad!"

"I don't...its just! I really thought you turned into a jack o lantern! And that you were gonna eat me!" He folded his arms.

In the kitchen you put your chin in your palms again, looking up at him seductively, "Well...you do look quite delicious when you're terrified! But I'll save you as my dessert for later!" You replied suggestively.

He quirked a brow, "Oh? I'm dessert huh?" He came over to you and put his arms around your waist.

"Uh-huh!"

He picked up another gummy worms and put it in his mouth, you caught the other end of it.

Once you both ate it finish he kissed you, licking into your mouth and tasting the sweetness of the candy on your tongue. You bit his lip and he sighed against your mouth.

"By any chance...are you willing to skip dinner and eat your dessert now?" He asked with a desperate pant in his tone.

You smirked against his lips, "I think I can move onto the main course right now!"

He sighed in relief, "Okay! Come on!" He giggled and dragged you out of the kitchen while kissing you.

~~~~~~~~~

Though both of you didn't notice how the pumpkin heads slowly turned to watch you two wrestle to go to the bedroom. The Skeleton Sam pumpkin in the middle grinned, "Delicious! Two tasty snacks! What do you think, brothers?"

His two fellow pumpkins nodded, "Tasty indeed brother!"

They laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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