#and now he’s gone. I keep thinking about his YouTube channel and how he’ll never really be gone. just inactive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twotapbuz · 3 years

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This fic was inspired by this post by @swampythesweetsketch. I’ll post the fics for the rest of 1010 as soon as I finish them.

You were hired to be a personal bodyguard for Eloni

Along with the standard supplies(1010-themed uniform, flashlight, pepper spray, body camera), you were given a watch that would alert you to Eloni’s location whenever he was in trouble

This along with the job wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for the fact that neither of the other members of 1010 had personal bodyguards

You would soon learn why after your fourth concert

You had been approached by two lost fans that were looking for the meet & greet table when your watch suddenly began to beep rapidly. “Eloni must be in trouble,” you thought as you excused yourself from the duo and quickly hurried to the idol’s location. Eloni had somehow gotten to an alley near the venue. You weren’t really sure what to expect. Had a fan tried to kidnap him? You had heard stories from other security staff about crazy fangirls trying to take them or at least pieces of them. You reached the alley and found Eloni being hoisted by a group.

“Freeze!” you said while holding up your pepper spray. This diverted the group and they looked at you. “Drop the robot, now.”

“And if we don’t?” mockingly replied one of the “fans”.

“I’ll send this video to Neon J and have you banned from any future 1010 events.” you tapped your body camera. The threat of not seeing “the loves of their lives” caused the group to practically drop Eloni and they all scattered.

“Thank you.” Eloni got up. “You’re the first guard to catch them before they threw me into the trash”

“No problem, just stay away from alleyways.” you began to write an email, informing Neon J that Eloni had been safely retrieved. “ We wouldn’t want to-wait... the trash?” you stopped and looked up at him.

“Yeah, they usually throw me into the trash. One time I got thrown into a nearby pond.” Eloni admitted, embarrassed.

“And how often does this happen?”

“Around every other concert.” Eloni began to lean on the alley wall

“Yeesh, no wonder Eloni needs a personal guard,” you thought. “Wow. I knew the fans were a bit crazy, but I didn’t think they would go this far.” you tried to pick out your words carefully, trying and failing to not upset the robot.

“I just don’t understand why they hate me so much?” Tears began to fall down Eloni’s face. you froze, unsure what to do, before moving to comfort him.

“Hey, I’m um really sorry about what’s happening to you… if you want, I could maybe give you some advice?”

“Really?”

“Yeah” you looked at your watch. “We should head back to the venue, Neon J is worried about you.” Eloni wiped the tears off his face and began to walk beside you

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You unofficially become Eloni’s PR Manager:

After that moment, you would help Eloni with his image before every event(it was the only time you would see each other as you had no reason to be near Barraca Mansion, and giving Eloni your phone number would be unprofessional).

“You’re supposed to be the funny guy of the group, right?” Eloni nodded. “Well, give me a joke. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ok. What did the fish say when he swam into a wall? Dam.” Eloni shot finger guns at you. You stared at him. “Why do fish live in saltwater? Pepperwater makes them sneeze!” Eloni said, less confident.

“...I see. In the nicest way I can say this, you need new material, Eloni.”

“What? But I spent hours researching jokes on the internet!”

“That’s the problem. Everybody has heard of these jokes. If you want to be funny, you gotta be original. Here.” you handed Eloni a piece of paper. “There’s this restaurant in Dream Cast called The Mind Palace that hosts comedy hours every Saturday at 7 pm. I was going to go, but something came up, so you can have my ticket.”

“Really? Thanks!” Eloni smiled

-----------

“So, how was the show?” It was the Monday after the show and you were curious to hear Eloni’s new material.

“It was great! They’re definitely gonna love my new material!” Eloni pulled out his phone and began to show you a video. It was 1010 doing a tour around Vinyl City. Eloni paused the video and pointed at himself. He was dabbing. Between the Eloni in the video dabbing and real-life Eloni looking so proud, you couldn’t help but chuckle and this adorably dorky display. Eloni liked your laugh.

While the new material definitely got Eloni some fans, it still wasn’t enough. So you began to inquire about some of his hobbies

“Another way to get people to like you is to seem relatable. Do you have any hobbies?” You asked

“I bake in my spare time”

“Perfect! We can make a YouTube account and post some of your recipes there. Cooking channels are very popular, I even follow some myself.”

Your advice ends up working and Eloni begins to have his own fan club

He’s given the same love that his brothers are.

You’d think this would be the end of your job, afterall, you were hired to keep Eloni safe from angry fans, but now they all love him.

Instead, the lack of necessity for your job is strangely never brought up by Neon J and you continue business as usual.

You’ve got a crush on Eloni:

You recognize that you’ve got a crush immediately

Ever since Eloni became popular, the two of you’ve had fewer opportunities to talk to each other as he was constantly approached by fans

Having to stand by and watch Eloni be constantly flirted with made it pretty easy to realize your feelings

You decide to ignore these feelings

After all, your relationship was purely professional

Ok maybe all those times you accompanied him all over Vinyl City were just excuses to hang out, but still, your relationship was professional

And his number was saved in your personal phone and you two often texted each other

Even if your relationship was more than professional, Eloni had a lot more choices than you and you didn’t want to ruin what you had

Eloni realizes he’s got a crush:

It first started when he saw a stage technician flirting with you. Eloni got annoyed by this, but he didn’t know why.

It took a while for Eloni to realize his feelings. He at first mistook his crush as just being glad that you were his friend

Eloni also began to think about you a lot. Not just about your advice, but he also began to be reminded of you wherever he went.

It wasn’t until the middle of a baking stream that he realized that he had a crush on you

Eloni tries to flirt with you:

Attempt #1, the 1010 style:

Eloni decided to make his move.

“Hey, Y/N!” You turned around to face the green robot. “Have you thought of joining 1010? Cause you're definitely a ten out of ten.”

“That was a really good one! You should definitely use that during the concert.” You replied, unable to tell the difference between Eloni asking if his lines were good and him flirting with you. Eloni hid his disappointment, but I guess that’s what happens when you use someone as practice for your pickup lines.

Attempt #2, the sweet way:

Eloni decided to take a more “traditional” route by giving you a box of homemade chocolate. And by giving you a box of chocolate, he would place it on top of your locker and would tell you it was him when you opened it.

Eloni waited for you to show up, but you never did. He was about to search for you when he was suddenly stopped by Neon J.

“Troop, this is Emiro.” Neon J gestures to the robot next to him, “He’ll be your bodyguard for tonight.”

“What happened to Y/N?”

“Y/n had an allergic reaction to something they had been eating. Thankfully, they had an epipen on them, but they're taking the rest of the day off.” With that, Neon J left Eloni with the realization that you were probably allergic to the chocolate he made. He was definitely not telling you that he made it.

Attempt #3, third times the charm:

This time, the rest of 1010 decided to devise a plan to help their brother.

They knew Eloni would probably never confess outrightly and while his feelings for you were obvious to Neon J and them, it would take a bit more effort for you to notice.

NSR was hosting a party on the anniversary of the company's creation. And with parties came a lot of security.

You and several other members were assigned to go undercover as party guests and report anything suspicious

This meant that instead of your usual attire, you wore a dress/suit

You still had your watch(the Eloni signal) with you as it also doubled as a radio that you could use to notify staff of suspicious activity

You had been casually chatting with other NSR staff when your watch had started to beep rapidly

Eloni was in trouble

You immediately rushed off to find him, it had been months since he last needed to signal you so it must’ve been bad

You turned around the corner to where Eloni was, only to be met with Haym.

“Haym?”

“Oh hey Y/N! How's it going?”

“Hello, Haym. I’m sorry, but I can’t really talk right now. I’m looking for Eloni, but my watch says he’s right here.”

“Don’t worry, I know where he is!” Haym proceeded to push you into a nearby room. You try to open the door only to find that it was locked. You tried to call someone on your watch, but it was gone. Haym must’ve taken when he pushed you.

“Haym, what the hell is going on! Let me out!” You said while banging on the door. He was kinda your boss, but you had a much more casual relationship with the other members of 1010.

“Y/N?” A voice said behind you. You turned around only to find Eloni. You could tell because of the green eyes and cheeks, which dimly lit the darkroom.

“Eloni? Is that you?” You couldn’t really tell due to how dark it was.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Do you happen to know why Haym locked us into this room?”

“Well, my brothers thought it would be funny if….” Eloni hesitated.

“Please tell me this isn’t some messed up version of seven minutes in heaven.”

“What, nonono!” Eloni’s fans began to whir loudly

“Right, sorry. Not like I’d have a chance anyway,” you mumbled that last part

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Well it’s just you're a famous idol and you’ve got a lot of fans, you know?

“Who cares if I’m famous! That doesn’t make you any less incredible than you are. You’ve made me so happy and you helped me become popular! You were my first fan and I would love to go on a date with you! Eloni froze after realizing what he said.

“Wait, you like me?”

“Yeah”, Eloni blushed, I have for a while. I understand if you want to forget that this happened. I’m really sorry and I-“

You cut Eloni off with a kiss.

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

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

“I’m going to the roof to stargaze. Would you like to join me?” Eloni asked. You had managed to unlock the door, and by unlock, you kicked the door open.

“Well I’m supposed to be out on the lookout for suspicious people,” Eloni’s face began to slightly falter. “But, my main objective is to keep you safe, so It’s best if I go with you. After all, you know how crazy fans can get.” With that, the two of you headed towards the roof.

“Well, that was really cheesy,” Zimelu said, peering his head behind a corner, before getting smacked by Rin.

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr x reader #eloni x reader #1010 #nsr 1010

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

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Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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hepalien · 3 years

Text

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #steve x bucky #my stucky recs #fic tag #mine #fic rec #mcu fic #tumblr ate this the first time [my longest sigh ever]#i read art nouveau for the first time last week and I've been thinking about it ever since

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ushiwakaout · 4 years

Text

parings: Kenma x reader, Oikawa x reader

warning: Fluff, bad grammar. nsfw under black line. fem reader. TIME SKIP HAIKYUU

a/n: request are open! please don’t be afraid to do so!

Kozume Kenma

Match made in heaven

Both of you are at home workers, other than the fact that kenma is a CEO of his own company

You work for him, you’re his editor and you work pretty fast since you obviously do nothing in your day but edit and binge watch anime

you guys could probably go days without talking and just communicate physically and understand everything.

If you go to the store, and he’s gaming that’s when you’ll talk

Always knock before you go into his little studio room

You never come behind him anymore because one time he was filming a scary gameplay with a heart monitor and everyone thought you gave him a heart attack

but no, kenma is just baby and you wanted a good laugh- you felt really bad about it tho bc it was live and you where crying your ass off and he was yelling at you

fake breakup video like the next day for trolling

Okaya anywho

if you want his attention and he’s live, you remove one side of his headset and kiss his cheek (theres a several compilation videos of you doing that all over youtube) “I’m going to the store, you want anything?”

you always wait like 30 seconds and caress him a little to let him know you’re physically there and not just standing there.

“Uh- yeah... yeah. Hold on.” (there is also a compilation of kenma just ignoring you and you just standing there until he answers)

you always end up naming his favorite snacks, drinks and food and he either agrees or denies.

everyone thinks its weird how your relationship works

SOME MANY VIDEOS OF “kenma and y/n communicating without any words”

you go many places by yourself since kenma does very long streams or just long videos

you both stay up really late together

if hes not making videos hes looking at paperwork and if hes not doing that he’s helping you edit

somehow kenma is the more productive one

you have channel yourself that slowly grows thanks to kenma

you only do lives and leave up the whole streams bc you dread editing but you’ll do anything for kenma

just to make extra cash you have and OF

most of the videos consist of watching you play video game while kenma eats you out under the desk

a lot of audios because kenma doesn’t like being his face filmed while having sex

theres a video in your own OF when you do a tik tok trend where you surprise him while he’s filming

“Kenma can you help me for a second.”

“Hmm, what is it kitten?”

He paused his game and while his chair turned you undid your robe

Luckly he’s not live and kept the camera on

He just smiles and spreads his legs for you

(gdiewgsfiuchsiufviusdghvypofgsivhrwshb my brain is malfunctioning ugh im so in love with kenma its not even funny)

He makes you sit on his lap, as he suckles your nipple in his mouth.

His hand firmed tightly around your rips as he kisses every inch of your chest

“You’re so pretty... So fucking pretty.” He mumbles. He’s kissing down your chest all the way to your tummy before picking you up and making you stand

He makes you stand in front of the camera while stands behind you and kisses the crook of your neck.

“I want you to look in the camera for me kitten, can you do that?” He kisses her jaw “Can you be a good girl for me?”

(wow if i write any more smut for kenma i think i might go crazy jskwbvbdei)

sex is very much a frequent thing, most of the time it starts as cock warming while watching a movie and two second later your begging to milk kenmas cock again

he loves when you beg for his cock, makes him feel wanted

he loves feeling your tight pussy clench around him when hes about to cum and you’re cumming for the third time, panting, begging, crying to having him fill you up with his hot cum.

Blow jobs under his desk or while hes on an important call are a must.

you love watching his cock slowly twitch with pre cum when you lick his shaft

mmm i need to stop- i love him so much ugh

Oikawa Tooru

Being lazy in argentina was a dream but a little lonely

Tooru was always away at practive but lcukly the apartment he had been renting had a pool, and you spend most of your days at the pool, reading or playing some game he just bought you

you hate how early he freaking wakes up

hes making breakfast and blending shakes at like 5 in the morning

there’s days he doesn’t really mean to wake you, you know the difference bc if he wants to wake you he’ll leave the blender run for a while and if h doesn’t he does it in seperate pulses so it’s not so damn loud

if he does it on purpose, he has breakfast ready for you before his own

doesn’t expect you to stick around after you eat

when he wakes you on accident he’s like “Oh my baby i’m so sorry honey.”

cue kiss attacks, warm hugs and him making you a cup of coffee/tea, whatever you prefer that morning

he’s so sweet

he knows you work hard too (even tho it doesn’t seem like it bc people think youtubers and streamers have an easy job when it clearly is mentally very stressful)

He knows that when he wakes you up, you had legit just gone to bed like two hours ago.

sometimes you sleep though the noise and before he leaves he wakes you up just a little so he can kiss you goodbye.

its always something like *shake* *shake* “Baby.... honey” *caressing of the head/cheek/hair* “I gotta go to practice now, give me a kiss princess.” you always wake up to the sound of that and give his a really sweet and tender kiss. Oikawa really just wants to fall back asleep with you and hold you, especially today since it was a cold morning

after you give him the kiss, you caress his cheek and then shove him away- a little jumpy that he need to go. “Love you.” you mutter before covering yourself with the blankets

he always slaps your ass over the blankets, it never huts but it’s just a sign of his actually leaving to practice

You wear his stuff when he leaves

low key have attachment issues since you moved with him to Argentina

other than pool side reading, or doing a few laps before breakfast- you really don’t do anything but work.

Work for you consisted you of just playing video games or streaming

You’re popular on the female side of gamers

sometimes you have streams where you ask your fans to play and write down their handles and you’d add them to a game or sum

Everyone knows your dating a professional volleyball player an they think it’s an interesting duo

You cry when Tooru brought Hinata over, he smelt like home

you def. helped him adjust to the life in argentina bc it’s nothing like home.

hinata comes over for dinner ever weekend

if you’re not working or at the pool, you’re in a white hoddie and some shorts, just watching Hinata play some beach volleyball while playing some game

You very much remind him of kenma- it helped a lot when he got some sick- you didn’t really ‘help’ you just cried with him about how much you miss home

although your schedule isnt the best, youre always awake when tooru gets home, always there to greet him with kisses

hes lucky you like cooking, bc he always comes home to an empty stomach

you’re probably the slowest cooker he knows but you take your sweet time bc you know that it always comes out w the best result and he doesnt complain anymore

baths w oikawa are frequent

muscles sores are a usual so seconds before he gets home theres a hot bath being pampered with your love for him

you work so slow on everything hes surprised you actually get stuff done

a little offended that he doesn’t believe in your slow work ethic bc it worked since highschool.

there had been times where he just ask if you’re not ever sick of being at home locked in all day and it stated a very month long fight.

sleeping in different rooms

(LIL ANGST AHEAD)

Tooru can hear you cry from the other room

he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, he really didn’t. he just doesn’t want you to regret anything- especially moving here with him

you hate it when he questions your life ethics. it makes you feel like a failure and unworthy.

your life is simple and you like it that way but the second he questions it you think that you aren’t doing enough

will 100% sleep outside your door because he can’t sleep alone anymore. he’s gotten used to you being right next to him

you realize that it seems he’s given up so now it’s time to go to the kitchen and get water

but to your surprise tooru is very asleep on the doorframe when you open the door. it’s makes your heart ache just a little bit. he looks tired, his eyes are puffy but he looks so at peace.

you wake him up to go to bed but he has other plans.

he’s kissing you so sweetly, every piece of skin he can find he will kiss

will carry you to bed and kiss your tummy as your shirt ran a little too high

will start to kiss your inner thigh and pull down your underwear and slowly make his way up to your pussy

you’re clearly trying to shove him off (not hard enough) because you keep closing your legs and trying to push him with your foot

will spread your legs and keep his hands there to he can start eating you out

this is his apology. this his how oikawa tooru says im sorry without saying it. soft pleasuring, orgasmic sex.

his fingers are so deep in your pussy while he’s sucking on your clit. he doesn’t look at you when you cum because he feels like he doesn’t deserve to see it.

you’re begging him to look at you after he’s done fingering you so you can kiss him with your taste this lingering oh his tongue

fucks you in a matting press because when it’s slow and he’s thrusting it all in.... i don’t think he’s seen you twitch and drool so much

tooru is there to pleasure you and when he sees you cry out of the pleasure you know he’ll be forgiven when it’s over

aftercare is even better

he doesn’t make you do anything

he presses you, gives you kisses and over all will apologize verbally when you’re slowly falling asleep in his arms

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sbplays · 2 years

Text

Technoblade Never Dies

Im absolutely devastated by the news of Alex Technoblade’s passing. I just wanted to share how I ended up finding his YouTube Channel.

A few years ago, I went through a traumatic period of my life over the space of about four months. During those four months, I dealt with a number of traumatic events (that I don’t feel the need to discuss) but that pushed me to my edge. I struggled incredibly with depression and I’m still battling depression but in a much stronger position now.

As a result of my depression, I actually hardly slept. I spent most of the nights trying to find ways to occupy my mind and keep it away from the harmful thoughts in my head. That’s when I discovered the Dream SMP. Through TommyInnit’s videos was where I was introduced to all the other members of the DSMP and the one who stood out the most for me was Techno.

I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of times I have rewatched Tommy’s videos of when he was banished on the DSMP and hid in Techno’s house. Their relationship on the DSMP is my absolute favourite and those videos of Techno finding Tommy in his house, sneaking into L’Manburg and then the final destruction of L’Manburg are my comfort videos for the very reason that Technoblade (although chaotic, “WELCOME HOME, THESEUS”) were what helped me start to feel happy again. I felt part of a community. I felt like when I was watching them, I was watching my friends even though in reality I never knew them personally.

I was always excited whenever lore would happen and always found myself looking out for Techno in any of the other DSMP members videos as well as to see if he was also posting lore. I became a subscriber. I explored into the whole background of the DSMP lore and especially c!Techno and his history. I watched EvanMCGamings, “The Legend of Technoblade” video. Alex Technoblade was so effortlessly funny, witty and became my favourite member and c!Techno being my favourite character of all. I can’t imagine DSMP without him.

I remember watching his videos about his cancer. When he was posting and explaining how he almost became an amputee. How he made a joke out of it and approached his condition in a very lighthearted manner. It had me thinking, “he’ll be fine! He’s handling it like a pro!” When I woke up this morning and saw the news, I broke down. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I know there will be people who are watching the internet right now and thinking, “why are you so upset by this? You never knew him.” You don’t have to know anyone to be affected by them. To feel comforted by them. To feel in one way or another that they helped you. It’s even more emotional for me when that person helped me mentally. They helped me while I was in that dark place. When you never knew these people personally, it makes seeing them gone even harder because all that we wish at that point when they are no longer here is that we could have said, thank you.

Thank you, Alex. We love you and we will NEVER forget you.

Long live Technoblade.

❤️

#technoblade #minecraft #dsmp #Alex Technoblade #technoblade never dies #long live technoblade #rest in peace king

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whyamiherewhosummonedme · 4 years

Text

It's analysis time motherfuckers, because that conversation with Dream in front of the Nether Portal was INTERESTING.

So, Technoblade owes Dream a favor. We all knew that this fact would be important, and it's shaping up to be even MORE important than we thought. Let's talk about some of the most important things that could be understood from that little conversation, shall we?

First, Techno bringing up the favor in the first place, sounding very excited. This can be taken in two possible ways. One (and probably the more likely explanation) is that Technoblade the minecraft youtuber and ex-english major is extremely excited for whatever is planned to happen when that favor gets called in, and wanted to remind the audience (and Tommy) that it's a thing, which is worrying all on its own because Technoblade likes greek mythology and greek mythology is not kind. The other explanation is that Technoblade, the anarchist pigman in a world full of government, is sick and tired of Tommy constantly messing up his plans (being the opposite of stealthy when sneaking into L'manberg, dragging random violent llamas around while trying to do a mission, stealing and wasting some of the most valuable objects he has such as slowfalling potions and gapples) and wants him gone. He was excited to bring up the idea of betraying Tommy with the excuse of a favor, because it would rid him of a loud, annoying, useless thorn in his side. Remember, SBI isn't a family to Techno. Tommy isn't really a brother. Just some random kid who used him, threw him to the side after his usefulness was complete, then came running back and demanding his aid once again when he finally was forced to face some consequences. It would be a blessing for Dream to get rid of him for Techno. The pig may be manipulating him like the god before him and the musician before him, but he isn't really getting anything out of it.

Second, Dream's response. He hesitated, mulling over whether or not to do what Techno said and cash in his favor right then and there. Either he did that and brought Tommy under his grasp once more, or he saved it for later, likely to be used during or after whatever he's planning that will make everyone hate him. However, Tommy has come to realize that Dream was manipulating him, even if he hasn't really seemed to come to terms with it fully. He told Dream to his face that he was a manipulator and told the most powerful man on the server, literally God, to go fuck himself. I imagine that Dream realized that there was no way to bring Tommy back to heel - he'd gone too far in the opposite direction, intentionally not taking a damn thing seriously and being the biggest asshole he could possibly be. It would be far too much work to make this child obedient again, if he could do so at all - no, the plan had to be changed. The same trick wouldn't work twice, at least not from the same man. So, he decided to keep that favor for later, pulling on one of his backup plans. And if there's one thing Dream has shown, it's that he's never, ever unprepared. I always think back to the behind the scenes videos on Punz's channel of the Revolutionary War, and how Dream prepared for the absolute worst-case scenario and set up three separate backup plans in case something happened that he hadn't expected, none of which even needed to be used. If that's what his planning skills were like back then... Then what the hell kind of ludicrous backup plans does he have NOW?

Third, the Disc. Dream said that he got Tommy's disc Cat back from Skeppy, who's had it longer than Tommy ever did by now. This wouldn't seem to be much of something to think about, except that the last time we saw Skeppy, he'd been infected by the Crimson. He had the disc at that point, even going so far as to toss it around and threaten to burn it. And the thing is, Skeppy has not been cured. Dream didn't get the disc from Skeppy, he got it from Red Skeppy, who has declared that his only desire is for the Crimson to grow and prosper. He doesn't even care about Bad kissing other people in front of him, and burned 14 wholeass diamond blocks because he didn't care about them. How, exactly, did Dream negotiate with him? What could he have given Red Skeppy to convince him to give up Cat? And how will this affect the Crimson arc, which has been confirmed to be important to the main plotline?

And fourth, a smaller thing that still caught my interest: Dream protesting over his supposed homelessness. Now, I firmly believe that Dream is telling the truth that he does, in fact, have a base - there is no fucking way that he carries everything on him, not when he apparently has so much stuff to throw around, and also as he evidently has at least a Piglin trading farm (he gave Sam 5 or 6 stacks of enderpearls after he asked for them for the Vault construction, all the obsidian for the New L'manberg Walls, and him making it clear that he wanted to play everything legitimately in Survival Mode), likely with other farms hidden around the server (the Trident farm that he tore down after showing where it was, and the villager trading hall that Punz found under his base while cleaning out Blood Vines). There's absolutely no way that he doesn't have a hidden base, even if just to hold all his items. The only reason that he doesn't show it to Technoblade to prove that he does, in fact, have a house is because wants to keep it actually hidden, since his last hidden base was griefed constantly the moment it was found. However, while protesting and saying that he does have a base tp Techno, he stopped himself in the middle of yelling and said "you'll see, you'll see" in a much softer tone. This makes me, personally, believe that that hidden base is indeed going to be a plot point in the future, or at the very least it'll be found and explored. This then makes me wonder about what Dream hinted at before, with him having to run away after he does something that will make the entire server hate him. Will he be chased after when he runs? Will there finally be a manhunt on the SMP run by someone who grew popular for his manhunts? And if there is, will they find Dream inside of his base, or will they find it abandoned, or is it well-hidden enough that they will never find it at all, and he'll explicitly show it to someone when the time comes for a grand reveal of whatever's hidden in there? I don't know, but I look forward to whatever the plan is!

Basically, while the lore stuff was relatively short, I'm a Dream apologist and am constantly reading too much into things to try and figure out what the hell is planned in the future. No matter what, we can be certain that things will come to a head in two days. Let's watch these fireworks, shall we?

#dreamsmp #dream smp #mcyt #mcytblr #dreamwastaken #technoblade #tommyinnit #skeppy #ngl this is one of my better analyses i think #i guess we'll see how close I am in a couple days tho

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Tell Me Everything

Follows Found Out, Akio, Chris Sees, and I’m Here

CW: References to murder, suicide, grief, pet whump, abduction, whump of a minor, ableism, Oliver Branch manages to be creepy even now in brief reference

He’s shorter than Ben thought he would be.

Ben sees him first, but, like of course he does - Akio Nakamura isn’t exactly famous but he has his own youtube channel and is like an Olympic-level athlete, so he’s pretty fucking recognizable... if you’ve spent two days scrolling through every Instagram photo of him on three different accounts that you can find.

Ben showed up thirty minutes early, because Ben has never been late to a fucking thing in his life and something tells him this is maybe one of the most important things he’ll ever do, even though he doesn’t quite know why.

Something about it keeps picking at his mind, taking it apart, unraveling him with the reality that someone fucking cared about Chris, before whatever happened. Chris doesn’t remember much, and Ben and Laken had done the googling and searching and shit, trying to get some idea of what the hell could have happened to make someone like Chris - bouncy and full of sunshine optimism even on his bad days - end up at a place like WRU.

They’d found nothing a first. But Ben hadn’t known what he was looking for, then. Now that he knows what to look for, he can’t stop finding things. He feels like a detective or someone who has lost his mind, desperately piecing together a life that was interrupted, like someone disappearing mid-sentence, and Ben is following a trail of the words he said before.

He finds human-interest stories from ten years ago, digitized articles from old community newspapers. He finds more photos from the gym, photos where the redheaded boy is in the background, or in the front always looking slightly off to one side, rarely smiling for the camera but happy to smile as long as he didn’t have to look right at it.

He finds out Veronica Higgs, murdered in the double-homicide that had destroyed the life of Tristan Higgs, had a facebook page, and it’s marked as In Memorial. So is her husband’s, but Paul Higgs’s page is private and his profile photo is a meme that hasn’t been a thing since…

Since they died.

Something about that makes his throat close up as he scrolls Ronnie’s last few public updates, the scattering of people who have left comments saying they miss her, they’re thinking of her, they hope she’s in a better place. Comments are left on the last post like clockwork, once a year, by the same few people.

Thinking of you today, Ronnie.

Saw your favorite bird today!

Hope you and Tris and Paul are happy wherever you are now, Ronnie. I take comfort in knowing you’re still together.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Ronnie!

Left flowers for you today, Ronnie. Jennifer did a routine this year that uses some of Tristan’s music, we’re always thinking of you!

Thinking of you

Miss you

Hope you three are happy together

Miss you, big sister, always.

One day I’ll stop leaving comments like you’re still here. I was watching the old videos and gosh, I couldn’t help but think how proud we were of our boys back then! Rest in peace. Give Tris a kiss for me. That’s Aimi Nakamura, that’s Akio’s mom. Her profile photo is her with her arms around Akio himself, wearing his leotard and holding up a medal with a bright smile, and a younger teenager who must be his little sister - she’s just wearing regular clothes. Feeling like a stalker, Ben opens the mom’s facebook page in a new tab. He absolutely does not look at the photos of Akio she’s posted. He does not do that at all.

He might do that later.

For now he goes back to Ronnie’s page, sees that her last post was brief, something about looking for a recipe, crowd-sourcing. Tris asked to try baked oysters, isn’t that funny? Only my kid, I swear. He’d said seafood is ‘slime’ except for tuna since toddlerhood, but no, this week he wants oysters. He said he wanted to try something new for once and he might as well go as far from the usual as he could get. I

One of the joys of all of this is how when he gets something in his head, I just go with him, and we see what’s on the other side of the jump, right? Watch him spit it right back out.

It’s fucking ordinary.

She posted it a couple days before she was murdered.

That doesn’t seem fair, does it? He just can’t wrap his head around it. She was a good mom taking care of her kid, she got some recipe ideas... but then she never cooked any of them because she just… died?

She died, and Tristan’s - Chris’s - dad died, and then there just wasn’t anybody? There wasn’t anybody to take care of a kid who couldn’t take care of himself yet? Nobody at-fucking-all, to keep Tristan safe and loved when the people who loved him the most were gone?

How the hell did he go from placed in the care of relatives to just... gone? How did he go from gone to a rescued runaway pet with a new name and a new life? What happened in all that gray space in-between?

Ben blinks back tears.

Whatever it was... could that happen to Jamey? Ben’s whole family has built their existence on holding his little brother together through the ways the world wants to shred everything about him. He’s spent nearly all the life he remembers with his brother’s hand closed in the fabric of his shirt, shadowing him through the world, reminding him that you can’t trust everybody, not everyone has good intentions.

Ben doesn’t even have to think before he’s moving in front of him to block out the noise and chaos of the world that Jamey just can't filter the way Ben can. He knows that when - hopefully forever from now - their parents die, Jamey’s going to move in with Ben.

It’s never been a question. He doesn’t want it to be a question.

But... what if Ben wasn’t there? What would happen to Jamey if his Mom and Dad were gone, and nobody was there who wanted to keep Jamey safe? He can’t stop thinking about it. He cycles around and around, and Laken called him yesterday and said not to talk to Chris for a few days, that he saw the video and he’s not okay, and Ben’s not fucking okay, either, is he?

This could happen to Jamey.

Someone could see him, alone and vulnerable, and think, no one will stop me and he can’t stop me either, and then Jamey could disappear and then just not be Jamey anymore, and there wouldn’t be anyone to save him-

Ben looks up from his phone without focusing on anything, sniffing back the pain, the tight feeling in his chest at the idea of his little brother, disappearing into some dark hallway and never coming back. Just some photos on Instagram, a video of two, some mentions on somebody’s In Memorial Facebook page, that’s all that’s left of his silly, serious, annoying, funny little brother?

Like someone turned out the light on Jamey’s life and the world just forgets him, because his family isn’t there to keep him safe and Jamey can’t always tell who you can trust and who you can’t, and… and Chris can’t either, can he?

He just wants to think the best of everyone, he forgives everyone who hurts him so easily, so quickly, like it’s second-nature, like...

Did Tristan Higgs want to think good things about whoever did this, whoever had him erased, whoever handed him off to be turned into one of those blank empty-eyed dolls celebrities and rich people drag around? Did Tristan Higgs trust the person who gave him away to be erased, because he didn’t know not to?

Who the fuck bought him?

How did it all fucking happen?

The bell chimes. Akio Nakamura is right on time.

And he’s short.

He’s got a natural almost-smile on his face at all times, a hint of tan to his skin even now in the early spring, wearing a thin gray hoodie, unzipped over a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. His muscles aren’t visible, like this, but Ben has seen the videos and knows they’re there, the body of a trained athlete hidden under casual clothing. His hair isn’t as short as it is when he competes, in the videos Ben has already watched over and over entirely for research purposes. It’s a little longer, starting to flop over his forehead.

Dark eyes scan the interior of the store, and Ben raises one hand to catch his attention.

The smile brightens, briefly, with a quick nod - like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Ben feels that smile as a physical warmth in his chest - and he pushes the rest of the way inside, walking straight over.

“Hey,” Akio says, and his voice is a little deeper than it seems in the youtube videos where he narrates, and Ben, for one shining moment, completely forgets how to speak his own fucking native language.

His mouth opens and nothing comes out - except maybe kind of a croak, which, please let that not have been audible - and he clears his throat, waiting for his brain and his body to remember how to work together. “Uh… um, h-hey,” He says, finally, and shifts uncomfortably. “You’re-... right. I’m, um. I’m Ben.”

“Yeah. I, I figured, you look just like your profile photo.” Akio laughs a little, dropping into a seat cross from him, sitting casually and letting his eyes roam over the mostly-empty interior of the shop, painted with bright colors and lined with posters about ice cream.

Ben could not possibly have picked a worse place for a professional athlete to go to… meet and talk about his dead friend, could he? Oh, God. Oh he’s a fucking moron. “Right. Uh, sorry, I couldn’t-... when you asked to meet on the phone, I kind of blanked and this was the only place I could think of-”

“Hey, that’s all right. I like coming here, when I’m off from competing. It’s been a while. Hope you don’t mind if I stick with an iced coffee today, though, I’m not feeling ice cream.” Akio grins at him, and Ben’s knees might buckle if he wasn’t sitting down already. The smile takes over his entire face, lights it up, and it reminds him so much of Chris when he’s really happy, the way Chris smiles with his entire fucking body, not just his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s… no problem, I’ll order, I picked here, anyway. Just the iced coffee?”

“Yeah, please. Also, I should warn you - my mom is lurking across the street faking an interest in whatever they sell at Paisley Poses and she’ll probably stop pretending she’s not here and show up before we’re done. She’s… uh. Well, get the stuff, and then I’ll, um, I’ll explain.”

“Right. Got it.” Ben’s grip on his phone is white-knuckled as he stands up, aware of every movement of his body as he walks - and he walks normally, right? Not, like weird? It’s not like Akio is watching him walk anyway, probably - over to the cash register. The cashier, whose hair is dyed a pale faded sort of seafoam green, almost the color of those weird mint shakes you can buy from McDonald’s in April, takes his order with a flat affect, unbothered, uncaring.

Ben doesn’t know what he orders for himself. His mouth moves and words come out and then he realizes he doesn’t know what he just said.

Whatever it is, he pays for it.

He takes the little number-on-a-stick, and carries it back to the table to wait.

“Iced coffee it is,” He says a little breathlessly. “Um, it’ll be just a sec. They’ll bring it out with my… with mine.”

Shit, what the fuck did he even order for himself?

“No problem.” Akio’s eyes move over his face, considering. He’s sitting slouched a little, but it doesn’t look quite natural - like his posture is usually so much better and he’s trying to look like everyone else. Ben’s eyes are drawn to his hands, folded over his stomach, over wrinkled white shirt fabric. He has a blood-bruise under one thumbnail.

What a weird fucking thing to notice about someone.

“I-I don’t really know where to start,” Ben admits, slouching himself. He runs his fingers over the textured case of his phone, a charcoal-black with rough edges. Jamey likes the texture on his phone, will just sit and rub the pads of his fingers on it over and over and over again, smiling in a distant way, sitting next to Ben on the couch while Ben watches TV and Jamey, who can go days without speaking and is currently one hundred percent all about how they film movies and tv shows, explains every fucking cinematic trick every camera is using at any given moment.

It’s nice.

It’s how Jamey says he loves you, by sharing what’s up in his head whenever he can, and Ben - when he’s home - always tries to listen.

“Yeah.” Akio laughs again, and Ben decides it’s a good laugh - strong, and not overly loud, and a little infectious. “Yeah, me neither. I don’t-... how do you even begin a conversation like this? Hello, nice to meet you, what do you know about my dead best friend? I don’t know what to say, just… we don’t even know they’re the same person, do we? Maybe they just look alike. Fuck.” Akio laughs once more, but this time it’s shaky, breathier. “I genuinely can’t decide if I want him to dead or not, I just-...”

Ben takes a breath, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone yesterday morning, exhausted and rambling after a night of not sleeping, their fear and grief and love for Chris, telling Ben to go ahead with this meeting, but Chris needed time. “They’re definitely the same person,” He says, voice low and quiet. “We, um. He saw the video you posted, and he kind of-... freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Akio blinks, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes are focused completely on Ben’s face, which would make him blush if he weren’t trying not to look directly at him. “What do you mean?”

Ben swallows. “Um. Just. He’s-... he doesn’t remember. Or… he didn’t. Seeing the video might have… brought some stuff up. Like, a lot of... bad stuff.”

Fuck, I’ve never heard him scream like that. Laken’s voice, rough-edged, laced with their tears. I can’t believe… he needs a few days, he can’t go with you to see this guy, Ben. He’s-... he’s super fucked up right now. I’m so glad his brothers know what’s happening to him because I-I don’t know what to do and he won’t let me anywhere near him.

Akio nods, slowly, and his hands worry at each other under the table, the smile faded and replaced with seriousness, uncertainty. “Yeah, when you said-... anyway, I looked the company up, and it’s-... it’s weird, I knew about pets, but I guess… I mean, he wasn’t old enough to…”

“Um… yeah. So, um. I know, but they-... clearly they still did...”

They sit there in an awkward silence, and then Akio pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Let me show you something. Tris and I shared our passwords for Instagram, way back, and when he-... went… when his aunt took his phone away-”

Ben’s eyebrows furrow. Something about that pricks at him. Miss you, big sister, always.

“He went to live with his aunt?” Ben asks. The cashier reappears, setting a plain iced coffee down on the table, and Ben discovers he apparently ordered iced coffee with a scoop of ice cream for himself, and that’s not bad, good for him. It’s even his favorite ice cream, vanilla with almond and chocolate chips.

“Yeah, his Aunt Jo, his mom’s sister.” Akio shrugs one shoulder. “I never met her, she never came to meets or anything. Tris always said she was kind of a shit to him and his dad.” Something in his jaw is tightening - and the line of his jaw is catching Ben’s eyes entirely too much for the seriousness of this conversation. He can’t stop himself from looking. “She’s who he went to live with, after. She took his phone away because he was complaining to, um, to my mom and I - my mom and Ronnie, Mrs. Higgs, were… you know, team moms.” He shrugs, and Ben doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. “He was complaining about how she took him out of therapy, and… uh, you know, Tris needed therapy, just-... it helped him to, um-”

Ben swallows. “Self-regulate,” He says, softly. “Redirect potentially harmful stims. Figure out how to filter.”

“Right.” Akio smiles, a little shamefaced. “Sorry, it’s been… fucking years since I had to think about this so much. It’s… I would show my mom his messages, and my mom would call Jo and tell her to get him back in therapy and back to practice, but… you know, the social workers said there was nothing we could do about it. We weren’t family. We made complaints, but...” Akio slumps, closing his eyes briefly. "God, I don't even know if they did a home visit."

Ben closes his eyes. Jamey, trapped with someone who didn’t let him go to his own therapy. Jamey, nonverbal on hard days, trapped with someone who didn’t learn signing to talk to him during meltdowns like Ben’s family did.

Jamey, trying to say he needed help with his hands again and again but no one’s listening, no one’s even trying anymore-

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice hoarse, and uses a thin plastic spoon with a long handle to get a bite of ice cream soaked in cold coffee taste, letting it dissolve on his tongue to buy himself some time for his throat to open back up. It’s fear in his chest, yeah, but beneath that is a bubbling, simmering fury, a distant anger for a hypothetical that he understands was Chris’s reality. “Yeah. My brother’s-... um, autistic, so I know… I know about it.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

Ben blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

Akio flushes, reddening along his cheekbones, and rolls his eyes at himself, slumping back down. “Okay, so, I promise I’m not a stalker, but when you messaged me I looked at your profile to see if you were just a creep. I saw the autism banner, so I looked and you wrote this really sweet thing about your brother-... how old is he?”

Ben almost forgets how to speak again. “He’s-... fifteen. Just turned fifteen. Jamey’s, um, his name is Jamey.”

“Cool. Yeah. So. I’m not a stalker. But, I’m just… listen, Tris and I started training at the gym together when we were like… seven. And I was seventeen when he, when she said… when she said he died.”

Ben’s breath catches. “Shit. She did?”

“Um. Yeah. A month after she took his phone away - we were calling her all the time asking to speak with him and stuff, my mom had kind of threatened to get social services involved again - she called my mom and said he-... um. Sorry if suicide is a thing for you, but…”

“No, I-I’m okay, I just…”

“Yeah. She told us he killed himself. We thought she was lying - oh fuck, she was lying, wasn’t she? - but so... but then you know, she had him cremated, and... I fucking-... I lost my shit, Ben. I didn’t compete, I didn’t train, I just, I just sat in my room for like six months bawling my eyes out and I told my mom it was just like she killed him, taking him away from everything when, you know, he was so sad and scared without them.”

Ben nods, quiet, watching Akio’s face as he speaks.

“My mom offered to take him, have him live with us, but… you know, she said no, and then he-... but he didn’t.” Akio drinks his coffee, absently, and Ben realizes his eyes are red around the edges. “Oh, god, he probably thought nobody cared about him anymore. Oh, shit. He probably thought we stopped giving a fuck. That h-he was al-... alone-”

He’s been crying. He’s maybe going to cry again.

Akio takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “He didn’t know-... shit. He probably just thought, no one’s coming, nobody cares, and… shit. I don’t know what to even think right now, just...” Akio slides his phone across the table. “Look at this. I locked it, when I thought-... but I kept it, anyway. I kept everything, I couldn’t-... I mean it’s just a box of stuff under my bed, but… I couldn’t throw any of it out, because… I don’t know. Somebody needed to, to r-remember him, and she wouldn’t have-... that fucking bitch told us he was dead. And she threw out all his stuff, so I’m... I guess I’m the only one who still has anything, so I just... kept it. Everything. And... this.”

There’s a moment where they both pretend Akio’s voice isn’t trembling.

“What is this?” Ben knows before the question is fully out of his mouth, but he looks anyway. Akio’s phone is still warm from his hand.

“Tristan’s Instagram account. We, uh, we took pictures of stupid shit a lot back then, and Instagram was, like, super new and all filters all the time, so you just-... but this is his. His mom encouraged him to use it because, you know, sometimes he could show stuff better than he could say it.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ben tilts his head, scrolling through the images. Most of the photos are just nothing - a cloud, books on a bookshelf, a tree leaf. Ben kind of quirks a smile at all the old Instagram filters right there, like looking in a fucking time capsule. Sometimes there are gymnastics photos, of the gym or of someone training. Sometimes Tristan himself appears in the photo, a blur of constant motion, photos taken by someone else. Photos of dinosaur bones at a museum, seemingly every fucking skeleton or fossil in the place.

“That’s our trip to DC, the team went,” Akio says, and points to a photo of Tristan and Akio, gangly awkward teenagers, standing in front of the Lincoln monument. Akio is smiling, and Tristan is looking up at the sky instead of the camera. “I like to look at this stuff sometimes? I know it’s been… it’s funny, we were talking a few weeks ago about how it’ll be a couple more years when he’s been dead longer than how long I knew him, but he’s not-... he was never dead.” Akio swallows, and his voice catches. When he speaks again, he sounds strained, forcing his voice to stay calm around the emotion that threatens to overtake it. “He was never dead. I keep getting caught up on that, because-... because how did we not know? How did we never… find him?”

Ben pushes the phone back to Akio. “You didn’t know to look,” He says, softly. “How were you supposed to find him if you didn’t know anyone needed to be looking?”

“I guess. My mom feels like shit, she’s been crying since we spoke to you. Well, I have, too. But my mom feels like she… she should have showed up at Joanne’s door and just taken Tristan by force, but, you know, the cops would’ve taken him right back, probably? That’s fucking kidnapping? And I keep telling her not to feel guilty, but she-”

“Yeah,” Ben says, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone.

I didn’t know he’d come home early. I keep saying I’m sorry but... He wasn’t-... he wasn’t ready for this and he’s so… he’s so fucked up. He won’t even talk to me. Every time Jake leaves the room we’re scared he’ll hurt himself again. He keeps telling me to find someone else, somebody easier, but I don’t want anyone else, god damn it, I want him!

“She’s taking it really hard,” Akio says, finally, breaking into Ben’s thoughts. “I mean. We both are. But, you know, I keep thinking I can’t do this but then I think… I want to see him again. I want to see this guy in person, not just in those photos and videos you had. I want to see how he’s doing, he looks-... he looks so good.” Akio coughs, like he’s trying to cover up a sob, not quite managing it. “He looks really good.”

“He is, he’s doing… he’s good. Um, he’s having a hard time with remembering some stuff, but overall... he’s good.” Ben picks his own phone back up, pops back to Ronnie’s page. “What did you say the aunt’s name was?”

“Jo, um, Joanne… something. Sorry, I don’t really remember her last name, my mom would-”

“Botham?” Ben looks up, and god, he kind of wants to hug Akio until there aren’t tears in his eyes anymore. But also that’s a stupid thing to think, isn’t it? But he wants to, anyway.

“Oh, that sounds right.”

“She left a comment on his mom’s-... I’ve been looking for everything I could find. I’m sorry, I know that’s creepy. But Joanne Botham left like a comment about missing-... hold on.” Ben clicks to open up Joanne Botham’s profile. A woman smiling in a profile photo, with dark hair. Something about the shape of her mouth is similar to Chris’s, but that doesn’t mean much, really. He scrolls down.

Name, stupid quote from a stupider movie, current city is a while away from this one, like a couple states away, but she could’ve moved… There it is.

The answer to his questions, all of them, all at once, right out in the open.

“Joanne Botham,” He says out loud, “works at WRU.”

“What?” Akio looks up at him.

“His aunt. The mom’s sister, she works for WRU. That’s where Chris was-... where they hurt him. Where they make pets.”

Where they erase people. Where they take someone like Jamey and destroy him and how many versions of my brother are there who weren’t rescued by somebody like Chris’s big brother?

“WRU?” Akio’s face twists, an ugly pain written across it. “They’re one of our team’s sponsors. I’ve never thought about how… oh my god. I, I never liked… I mean, none of us are, like, political about it because you can’t be if you want an Olympic career, not really, but we all kind of hated taking the money. My coach thinks it’s good because it gets people off the street, which is super fucked up, but…” His iced coffee thunks down on the table.

“What?”

“Oh shit. Oh holy fuck. They’ve been sponsoring us since we met with the old governor - he’s the one who hooked our coach up with their marketing team, and… oh my god. I’m gonna be fucking sick. WRU’s been my sponsor since like… a year after Tristan died-... didn’t die, I guess...”

“You didn’t know,” Ben whispers, staring down at Joanne Botham’s profile photo, scrolling through the profile picture photo album. He’s not maybe the smartest person on earth, but he can put two and two together for four. Tristan Higgs’s parents died, he goes to his aunt - who works for a human pet company - and he’s dead, supposedly, four months later.

Time passes. No sign of supposed dead boy.

Then Chris, identical in every way, appears with no memory of his life and a thousand traumas to heal from, rescued from something that Ben doesn’t know the details of, but he doesn’t have to.

Life as a pet, a life that made him terrified of bad weather and scared of people who raise their hands too quickly, unable to say no to anything when he gets scared, nervous about big vans with no windows, someone who says stupid fucking bullshit like silence is better than stammering when he’s upset, who sometimes has screaming nightmares that Laken has to wake him from that he refuses to explain to them...

Meanwhile, Aunt Joanne is putting up photos of herself traveling internationally, buying a new house, a new car, stuff she couldn’t afford to do before.

The math does itself.

It’s fucking true crime textbook, and it’s right in front of his eyes.

Akio’s jaw is working, and his eyes are glimmering again. He looks at Ben, and he looks weirdly lost and young, and Ben reaches out without thinking and grabs onto his hand. Akio grips on tight. His hand is warm, almost too warm, but also it’s the perfect amount of warm. “Do you think-... do you think she-”

Ben thinks about Jamey, scared and alone. He thinks about Jamey - and Tristan, the two of them mixing together in his mind - being dragged away, to be lost and overwritten, because no one was there to stop it.

Because someone did it on purpose.

Because no one stopped it.

“I think maybe she was lying to you because she didn’t want you to take Tristan,” Ben says, softly. “I think maybe she wanted to-... make money on him.”

Akio chokes, and leans forward, and Ben holds his hand as tightly as he can, feeling the other man’s fingers tremble in his grip. “I can't-... I can't even begin to deal with that, I just… So h-how did he end up in college? Pets don’t-... go to school, they’re not capable… are they?"

"Um. It depends, apparently?" Ben doesn’t know how much of this is something Chris would ever allow him to share. But Akio’s eyes raise, and catch his again, and Ben smiles, just a little, in an attempt to comfort. “He was rescued,” He says, softly. “I don’t know how, or when. He’d have to tell you that himself. But he’s, um. He’s just Chris now.”

“He’s just Chris, now.” Akio groans resting his head on his hand. “But not Tristan. So he really is dead, his body’s still just-.. walking around.”

“No,” Ben says, and leans in, getting Akio to look at him again. “He’s not gone. Not, like, the core of him, I think. We knew him as soon as we saw him on your video. We knew the smile, and how he moves, all of it. Everybody in the room knew him as soon as we saw him smile at you. He’s still there, he’s still him. I promise.”

“I knew it was him on your stuff as soon as I saw him dancing,” Akio says, brokenly. “H-he always did get obsessed with those fuh-fucking musicals and we used to make up routines to th-them-” His head drops, shoulders shaking, and Ben puts his other hand on Akio’s shoulder, moves around the edge of the little circular table, so he can put an arm around him.

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Akio says, muffled. “It’s not okay. We should have saved him, w-we didn’t know, we didn’t know she would… he probably th-thought we didn’t care... the social worker said it was fine, we’re not re-relatives, we didn’t know he wasn’t dead, we didn’t know he wasn’t gone, I thought I l-lost him and he probably thinks I didn’t even give a fuck-”

“I’m sure he never thought that,” Ben says, softly, and Akio’s hair brushes a little against the side of his face and he tries not to think too hard about how nice that feels, this is not the time or place, Benjamin, stop thinking about his hair stop it stop it stop it.

“We thought... “

“I know. But… you found him, now. He’s found.”

Akio sniffs back tears, mumbling, “Can I see him?”

Ben hesitates. “He needs-... he might need some time.”

Akio nods without looking up, but he leans a little on Ben. “I’m sorry, I’m being a fucking moron about this, making you comfort me and you don’t even know me, but I just-... missed him, and mourned him, and we go to see is parents wh-where they’re buried every year on the day that his aunt said he-... Is he h-happy? Now?”

Ben closes his eyes. That’s what I’d want to know, isn’t it, if it was Jamey. Is he happy now? Does his new family sign, do they know how to calm him down when it’s too much, do they know, do they care, if I’m not there does someone love him as much as we did?

I’d claw my way out of the fucking grave to make sure someone loves Jamey as much as he deserves.

“He’s happy,” Ben says, softly. “He was adopted by the guy who saved him, I think. There’s a whole lot I don’t know, you know, it’s not really my-... my story to, um, to tell. I just know some of it. He’s, um, he’s with someone, and… he’s… he’s happy.”

“Good. I just-... I want to see him.”

“I know. I’ll ask. But his partner... I’m friends with them, and they, um, he’s n-not... not okay right now, so...”

“I can wait.” Akio looks at him, intense, intent, eyes so dark Ben could fall in. “I’ve waited this long, I can-... I can wait a little longer, I just... I just want to see him, when he can see me.”

The bell over the door chimes again, and the two of them turn and look to see a woman who could not be more obviously Akio’s mother entering, looking at them, her eyebrows furrowed in immediate worry when she sees the tears on Akio’s face. “Aki?”

“It’s him, Mom,” Akio says, and she moves to him as if drawn, and Ben fights himself to pull back and away, to watch mother and son. Tristan had this, and lost it, but Chris has it, too. Life, interrupted at the second act, begun again with new actors around the main character. “It’s definitely-... it’s Tristan. But, she-... I have to tell you what happened to him. He, they-they made him a, um, a pet-”

She hitches in a breath, pulls a chair with a loud scrape from another table, and sits, looking Ben over, expression serious. “Tell me,” She says, softly, but fiercely.

“It’s, um, it’s a lot…”

“I’ve got time.” Ben is reminded of his own mother, in the simple steel flashing under her perfectly styled hair and carefully done makeup. Her eyes are red around the edges, too. She lays a cool, dry hand over Ben’s, and her dark eyes bore into him with focused intensity. “Tell me what happened to our Tris. I want to know what happened to-... I want to know what I didn’t stop.”

Akio looks sidelong at his mother, putting an arm around her, and he’s shorter than his mom but she seems to sag against him, and he can see how Akio takes after his mom, with the same wide mouth that normally seems always on the verge of a smile, the same dark eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “M-Mom, you couldn’t have known, we couldn’t do anything-”

“I could have gone to that woman’s… house, or wherever she was, and taken Tristan right out the door, and I didn’t,” Aimi says, and her voice doesn’t shake, but her face is bright red and her eyes are overbright and glittering. “I could have called lawyers, or the cops, I could have tried to fight for him and I didn’t. Ronnie deserved-” Her voice catches and her hand is over her mouth. Ben watches her eyes well up, her struggle to calm herself, throat working as she swallows and leans into her son’s embrace. “Ronnie… would have wanted someone to fight for him. I want to know what happened because I did the normal thing and not the right thing, because I didn’t let myself see it. I want to know what exactly it is that I didn’t stop when I had the chance.”

Ben sits back, takes a breath.

“He, um. His name is… Chris now,” Ben starts, slowly. “Christopher Stanton. He’s, um, he’s a sophomore in college, and… he was a human pet, for a while. We don’t know how long, nobody knows for sure, or who had him. I mean, I guess he knows and I think his brother knows, but h-he, won’t… won’t tell anyone who it was.”

Aimi’s whole body shudders, but her face doesn’t change, and her eyes don’t leave Ben’s. “H-how-”

Akio licks at his lips, and hesitantly says, “Ben thinks maybe that aunt they sent him to sold him. She works for WRU.”

Aimi’s eyes slowly close, and her breathing is slow but trembling. The two young men watch her. Akio’s knee bumps his under the table, and he doesn’t think about that, either, except it’s all he’s going to think about for the rest of the day.

“Okay,” Aimi says, after a long pause, and her eyes open again. A kind of perfect calm settles itself across the pain in her expression.

Ben thinks that this woman is probably fucking terrifying if it’s you she’s angry with and not herself.

“Mom, if we need to stop, that’s okay-”

“We don’t. Ben-... that’s your name? Ben?”

“Uh, yeah… Benjamin Prentiss, but-... call me Ben.”

Prentiss, Akio mouths to himself, and Ben hopes, in another weird moment, that Akio likes his last name.

“Got it.” Aimi leans forward, smacks the table with one hand. Ben flinches. Her jaw sets. She’s definitely terrifying. Like his own mother when they tried to kick Jamey out of school, this is a woman who could stare down the sun itself unblinking and walk away undamaged, if the sun was a threat to her children. “Ben?”

“Yes, um, Mrs. Nakamura?”

“Keep talking. Tell me everything about Tristan-”

“Chris.” He clears his throat. “He’s, um, his name is Chris.”

“... tell me everything about Chris.”

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#whump #suicide reference #brief self-injury reference #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #chris the strawberry blond romantic #ben is a good bean #akio nakamura #abduction ref #grief tw #parental death tw #ableism tw #guilt #survivor's guilt #murder mystery #sort of #jesus joanne #wru

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bokutoisbestowl · 4 years

Text

Fem!S/O; Meetings, Feelings and Futures: Kenma, Aone and Kyoutani

Thank you so much @kara-grayson04 for requesting!! 💞💞 I hope you enjoy it and that its good enough!!

Also thank you for requesting for Aone that man makes me S O F T 🥺🥺🥺

So I’m going to be introducing a master taglist, but it'll be limited to about 40-50 people, so please don’t hesitate to ask!! SMAU’s will have their own separate, unlimited taglist (unless Tumblr has some limitation I don’t know about) that you'd have to ask to be added to separately.

The headcanons may be a bit shorter than usual just because of it being multiple characters but I hope you guess still enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome!

As always, requests are: O P E N

Kenma

You two met during high school, through Kuroo of course. see, rooster boy thought that having another game obsessed friend would make Kenma come out of his shell a little bit

little did he know that it wouldn’t change a thing apart from the fact that he now had two nerds to look after

at first, Kenma didn't really think much of it, you were just another person who befriended Kuroo and would most likely see around quite a lot.

when he saw you, he would be polite and node or mumble his greetings but that was about it at first. You were similar in a way and honestly Kuroo almost regretted it.

almost

Kenma didn't know when it happened, all he knew was that one day he just saw you and blushed like a mad man after realising just how beautiful you were. He didn’t know why you, a simple acquaintance (at least) suddenly became the only thought in his mind

he loved how patient you were with him, even when he was being bluntly analytical of everything, you would simply smile whereas someone else would have complained or just left

he remembers speaking to you about his distaste for hot and cold weather, saying there was not in between. one was too hot, the other too cold and you just nodded along

“That's why I prefer spring and autumn, they're the transitioning seasons so the weather can be more balanced.”

Kenma is just shook that you didn’t point out the obvious that well, one is summer and the other is winter.

you two just starting talking a lot more and Kenma starting falling deeper and deeper and so you did you

although you managed to keep it hidden a bit better but not by much

you two would always look over each others shoulders when playing games together, trying to help each other out and occasionally will discuss games seriously; their design, animation, mechanics basically a range of things

you two became friends quickly after actually talking to each other and his feelings only really became clear when you were absent from school one day

he started texting you straight away, hearing from Kuroo that you were ill and home because your parents still had to work. Surprisingly, he’d managed to convince Kuroo to let him check up on you after practice since your parents worked late

both were shocked seeing you covered in blankets with a red nose, teared up eyes (from all the sneezing) and an exhausted aura opening the door, Kuroo quickly getting Kenma to take you to your room whilst he looked for food to give you

Kenma made sure you were covered with a blanket, grabbing a cold towel to place on your forehead. But rather than sit in silence, he because quietly talking about the newest game, smiling when you became discussing it as well

honestly this boy was falling in deep

collabs are a must when you two create your youtube channels in University, whether it was gaming, challenges or vlogs, around half of yours and his videos always include the other person

your fans are starting to ship you to together, Kuroo being their leader

little did they know you two had been dating since your third year, Kenma having awkwardly gotten his sims character to ask your sims character out on a date and then asking

“So... should we go out for real or?”

you agreed instantly of course

Uni had gone passed easily and your relationship remained strong throughout the years, going on dates every Thursday (both in real life and on any game you could manage)

when you weren't going out on dates, you two were lounging in your shared room or sitting in the living room of the house playing games or watching movies

Life got better after he proposed

he did it after graduation in the celebratory dinner, with help from Kuroo and some of you University friends

you could tell he was slightly embarrassed but luckily it was a private dinner in your residence so he wasn't that bothered. Of course he wanted it to be private but he also lowkey wants to show your relationship off like

“Look at this beautiful woman I am asking to marry me. Like if she says yes i’ll be shook.”

and he was.

Your daughter came along soon after the wedding which was much more simple than anyone expected. You two got married in the back garden of your childhood friends in front of close family and friends.

Pregancy was difficult, but it did give you time to actually play some games rather than having to work all the time plus your YouTube Channel became a family channel

Kenma was forever supportive, reading up on what to expect and how he can help. He never really asserted himself as the type of partner to tell you not to do something, he knew you understood your limitations and so left you to it

but he was always by your side, no matter what

And when Kanna was born, you both fell in love all over again. She was the perfect mixture of you both, with Kenma’s shy, introvert personality and your socialable, patient personality

honestly Kenma was glad of it, knowing that being a major introvert can sometimes be harmful, but he knew his daughter would be fine.

if not then BET he will do everything he can to make sure any problem gets solved quickly

his favourite thing though?

Coming home from work to find his two girls asleep on the sofa

Kanna cuddled up ontop of her mother and you holding your daughter securely in your arms, the two of you breathing softly

calm and serene

it was that he though of when he came up to you one night, wrapping his arm around your waist gently and kissing your shoulder

“...Lets have another.”

Aone

You were on the train when he first saw you properly. Of course he’d seen you around school but didn't really think much of it since his school mates never really spoke to him anyway

something about him being too intimidating to approach (rude)

BUT on the day when the two of you met, the train was way too crowded and you were honestly suffering. getting crushed between bodies or walls daily was getting exhausting and you couldn;t take much more

thankfully you spotted an empty seat and Aone. It wasn;t that you were hesitant because of him, no, you just didn’t want to disturb him if it happened to be that he liked to be alone. but it wouldn;t hurt to ask, right?

so carefully you walked across the train and smiled at him politely, nodding towards the seat next to him

“hello Aone, would you mind if I sat next to you?”

HOLY SHIT HE WAS SOFT IMMEDIATELY

this baby nodded and stiffened as you sat down, he couldn’t believe you’d actually done it and that you seemed so calm and relaxed. did he not scare you??

the two of you sat in silence but that was fine with Aone because someone was sitting next to him

both of you were surprised when you got off at the same stop, you smiling shyly up at him as he let you off first. you were surprised once again to find him walking the same way as you

you walked next to him silently, enjoying his company until it was time to head your separately ways

“Well, thank you for letting me side beside you Aone, I really appreciate it... do you... think I could sit next to you again.. tomorrow?”

he quickly nodded, blush rising from his next to the tips of his ears

you two soon fell into a pattern, whenever you would see each other you would smile and wave, him returning the kind gesture - even at school time which made a lot of people curious and weary

eventually you began waiting for him after practice, quietly waiting outside the gym and smiling when he would come out. he would always nod, giving you a look that you recognised as him saying “please wait a few more minutes” as he went up to get changed

will forever be surprised to see you still standing outside waiting for him

it would always be the same, quiet routine with Aone allowing you on the train first so you could sit first or get the last seat and he would simply stand in front of you, watching over you like a guardian of some sort

on occasions where the train was fully packed, he would gently guide you to a rail - oddly thankful for his intimidating nature since it would lead to people making room for you

once it starts to get darker, Aone refuses to let you walk home alone and goes out of his way just to make sure you get home safely.

you were grateful for it though, simply because of the company

your parents met him once and they loved him. it was like they could also see his kind nature, smiling at him and always thanking him for getting their daughter home safely

he would always nod and bow politely

honestly he adores you because goddamn it finally someone isn't scared of him

goes out of his way to ensure your safety, happiness and comfort. listens to your every word. sometimes he’ll respond to you and sometimes he speaks with his eyes but either way he (and you) are content in each others presence

your relationship moved quickly, dating after only a few months of properly knowing each other but neither of you would have it either way

you supported him in his volleyball career as much as you could, coming to his games or cheering him on when you couldn't make it. If playing is what he wanted to do alongside work then you were happy as long as he was

will bring you flowers and replaces those flowers once they die

all he asks is for kisses

despite the quick beginning, it took four years for you to get married and another two for you to have your children.

the wedding was beautiful, all your friends and family there, even his old high school friends (including the third years from back in his second year)

everyone was happy that this guy finally found love

the pregnancy was unplanned, and you were both shocked.

you’d missed your period and decided to take a test, Aone came home to you on the sofa, holding some baby shoes that you had gotten during the day to surprise him with

he was s h o o k

imagine both your surprise when you found out you were having twins

when you went into labour, Aone was terrified that his children would be scared of him, but his thoughts were quickly shoved aside when he heard his son cry out. and then his daughter

his heart was beating so fast, man was thankful they were in a hospital.

your son, Reo, calmed in your arms leaving your daughter, Aoi, to her father.

she cooed instantly and was labelled daddy’s girl

straight away

Reo was a lot like Aone in that he was oddly silent, even for a baby, you guessed he must have picked up on it and just went with it

Aoi was more like you, the talker of the pair and smiles all around

it was one day when he was watching the three of you play that he chuckled to himself, smiling happily.

Once upon a time his concern was that no one would sit next to him on the train

now it was that one day his daughter would get a boyfriend

god bless that boy

“Aoi, boys who are friends are okay. Boyfriends are banned.”

“Daddy... what’s a boyfriend?”

Kyoutani

Okay so ya’ll met under bad circumstances. and by that I mean he shoved passed you and knocked you on your ass, not even sparing a glance to you as you walked passed.

a bunch of the male students were immediately shouting at him for being rude to a girl, female students coming to help you up whilst the culprit just sulked off somewhere

you were a first year, friends to Kindaichi and Kunimi and also lowkey manager of the team

you had heard that Iwaizumi was having to take up some of the role and felt bad, since you were there watching your boys anyway you thought might as well so you spoke to him and Oikawa about applying for the position

You were SHOCKED to find him there, like how did a guy that unsociable get into a club??

you soon found out about the teams troubles with him and realised that it’s just his personality

but he was good at the game, despite stealing a few of Kindaichi’s sets and just being plain rude. But you loved how he was with Oikawa, laughing quietly to yourself as the older boy pouted when he was being ignored

Kyoutani thought nothing of you at first, you were just some girl he’d bumped into but then he saw you in club and was annoyed

did you follow him here to scold him cause it wouldn’t work

but then he saw how kind and attentive you actually were and boy was soon blushing (but only slightly)

it pissed him off whenever you went to Iwaizumi or Oikawa because obviously he saw Iwaizumi as the big dog and Oikawa was.... Oikawa so gross

was also surprised when you came over to give him a towel, because he thought he’d scared you off with his rudeness

blinks before nodding and wiping he face, feeling your presence move before swiftly catching your wrist

“Sorry... ‘bout before”

you just smiled and nodded at him, when he let you go (he was receiving looks off of Iwaizumi otherwise he could have stayed like that staring into your eyes for the rest of practice) you went back to your friends, laughing at Kindaichi as he demanded for information

Oddly enough he became a lot calmer when you were around because you were call him out for his mistakes

“That wasn’t your set Kyoutani, you need to wait otherwise your spikes won’t be as strong as they usually are and might get blocked easily.”

honestly you didn’t know if your words were actually helping but he seemed to take them in a wait for Oikawa to actually set to him

it didn’t work all the time however, in actual matches he got so into it that he just forgets and acts out

Oikawa and Iwaizumi sometimes look to you to calm him down, again sometimes it works and sometimes all you can do is shrug and say you tried

no one is sure of when you two started hanging out or dating but it just kinda happened

like one day you just kinda went “yeah he’s my boyfriend” and visa versa

he would walk you home on the grounds of Iwaizumi telling him to

you walked home alone because Kindaichi and Kunimi didn't live near you and Iwaizumi just turned to mad dog like “Walk her home. We need to make sure our manager gets home safely.”

everyone thought he’d put up a fight but he just turned, grabbed your hand and starting walking.

will continue to hold your hand and actually intertwine your fingers if he sees other boys walking past you two

kinda like a claim? but a sweet one like

“back off she’s mine”

you were sad when, a year later, he graduated but he always came back to walk you home at the end of day like routine

like I said before, no one was sure when you two started dating they just knew he was soft for you but still growly and glaring

you didn't mind though because he treated you gently

you got pregnant after you left high school and starting working. well, a few years into your job you got pregnant.

totally unplanned and definitely outside of marriage

your mothers were like “excuse me. what”

he proposed a few days later

I say proposed

you two were led in bed and he just turned around and said “you wanna get married or what?”

you legit just nodded all chill like and said “sure why not”

instant grin and kisses because he loves the playfulness

you ended up having a son who was exactly like his father and finally

after all these years

Kyoutani got a taste of his own medicine

“He’s such a fucking little shit.”

“He’s your son smh.”

Itsuki was born with a scowl on his face, Kyoutani was sure of it. he swears to whatever god he can that he saw it with his own eyes

but there are some moments where he remembers just how much he loves his son

but in all seriousness, seeing his son take after him so much fills him with joy and he’s so happy that they have that little mad dog

any future children (daughters) will be well protected

“Mommy... I want a baby brother.”

Kyoutani just sits there grinning

“You heard the rascal.”

●●●●

Master Taglist: Ask to be added whilst you can!!

@reinyrei

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips.

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him.

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal."

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days.

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most.

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner.

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses.

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

Alright, this is probably my new addiction to working out speaking, but hear me out: Modern Fitness Center Geraskier AU.

Geralt is the owner of a fitness center, with his ex-wife Yennefer. He’s also an instructor and teaches Krav Maga.

Yennefer’s also an instructor. She’s known for her strict approach that verges on cruelty, not sugarcoating anything and yelling at her clients occasionally. She will make you hate her and yourself, but it works like a fucking charm.

She’s got her own youtube channel where she posts her workouts. She doesn’t give modifications. The more people ask for modifications, the harder the next workout.

Enter Jaskier. He’s a zumba instructor. He’s fully aware of the fact that zumba’s gone out of style, but he’ll be damned if he lets it stop him.

He’s known for his cheery attitude, talking constantly (constantly!) during his lessons, and even singing from time to time. Yes, exactly. He’s jumping around like mad, sweating like mad, and singing.

Honestly, Geralt has no idea why Yennefer insists on keeping him, because they never planned on having zumba classes, thank you very much. But hey, he brings some new people in, so it’s probably alright.

(He brings lots of new people in. He’s good. He’s adorable. The word spreads and everyone needs to see this new zumba sensation.)

Pretty soon, Yennefer asks Jaskier to make a zumba workout for her youtube channel. The number of subscribers doubles. “Come on, dear heart, jump for me, I know you can” becomes a new catchphrase.

Of course that Jaskier falls madly in love with the tall, muscular, white-haired instructor.

Of course that Geralt mostly sees him as a nuisance who talks way too much and tends to get in trouble for sleeping with his clients.

They get into a heated argument one day, when Geralt has to (once again) save Jaskier’s sorry ass from a betrayed husband of one of his clients. Geralt yells at Jaskier that his workouts are nothing but silly jumping, something a ten-year-old could do. (And yes, Ciri does it quite regularly, because Jaskier also has classes for kids. Needless to say, Ciri loves Jaskier unconditionally and ships him with her father. Hard.) Jaskier yells back that Geralt’s Krav Maga classes are nothing but brainless punching and kicking.

In the end, they reach an agreement. Well, more of a challenge, really. If Jaskier comes to one of Geralt’s Krav Maga lessons and survives, Geralt will show up in Jaskier’s next video.

Jaskier does show up, but he very nearly doesn’t survive. He ends up sore, his arms and legs hurting worse than they have for the past few years. But he makes it to the end. He wins.

It’s Geralt’s turn now, and Jaskier is determined to destroy him. His next workout will be his masterpiece, the best thing he’s ever created.

They have a rehearsal before shooting, and Geralt is confident as ever. It’s even easier than he thought. Only when they start shooting, he realizes that the rehearsal was just to get his technique right, and that he’s expected to double his speed.

“Did I hear you say ‘Faster, Jaskier‘?” “Holy Mother of God...” “So that’s a yes.”

In the end, Geralt is on the verge of tears. He’s sweating. He’s gasping for breath. The moment the camera stops rolling, he falls to his knees and begs Death to finally claim him.

When he comes to his senses, though, he proposes another challenge. For every time Jaskier makes is through Geralt’s lesson, Geralt shows up in another video. Jaskier accepts.

Their first workout video gets thousands of views within the first twenty-four hours after being posted.

Jaskier shows up to at least one lesson a week. Geralt has got a bad feeling that at this rate, he’s gonna be doing workout videos with him until he’s eighty.

The truth is, Jaskier stops caring about the challenge pretty soon. He becomes addicted to Geralt’s lessons. To feeling strong. To Geralt’s hands on his body when he corrects his technique.

Geralt secretly prays Jaskier doesn’t ever stop coming for his lessons, because Geralt is addicted to his smile, his laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. With each new lesson he realizes (again and again and again) just how feral Jaskier is and he loves it.

“Hello, my dear hearts. As always, I’ve got my lovely colleague Geralt here with me...” turns into “Hello, my dear hearts. You already know my darling friend Geralt–” “We’re not friends.” “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Within two months, everyone who ever saw one of their workouts ships them.

“He’s cute, don’t you think? And single. He hasn’t seduced anyone’s significant other in weeks,” Yennefer tells Geralt at least three times a week. Geralt grunts.

Geralt knows Jaskier’s cute. He knows it damn well. He’s cute and gorgeous and amazing and Geralt’s madly in love with him.

Mutual. Fucking. Pining.

One evening, just as Jaskier leaves the center, he gets surrounded by three guys. He’s never seen them before, but it’s clear as day that they know of him. And they’re determined to teach the queer instructor a lesson.

Jaskier’s first reaction is fear, of course, but then the months of training with Geralt kick in. Before he realizes what’s happening, there are three guys lying on the pavement. One of them is vomiting and one of them is spitting blood and his own teeth.

Enter Geralt, who saw it from the inside. He was already coming to Jaskier’s aid, but Jaskier beat him to it. And holy shit, Geralt’s never been more aroused in his life.

He insists on giving Jaskier a lift home, and then on coming in to take a look at Jaskier’s split lower lip. (Jaskier has no idea how he managed to get his lip split, but to be fair, he still has no idea how he managed to utterly destroy three guys, either.)

“There’s some ice in the–” Jaskier starts, but Geralt’s lips are already crushing into his, Geralt’s hands desperately pulling Jaskier closer, and yes, yes, this is what Jaskier’s been craving for months...

When they come to the gym together the next day, hand in hand, Yennefer only whispers: “Fucking finally!”

The next workout video starts with “Hello, my dear hearts. I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend Geralt...”

Aaand that’s about it. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. XD

#geraskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #my fics

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dynamightsfave · 4 years

Text

Quarantine cookies - Timothée Chalamet

(gif not mine! credits to owner)

timothée chalamet x oc

summary: during quarantine, oc is bored and tim comes up with a way to pass the time

warnings: might take you back to those quarantine boredom moments, swearing, a suggestion of sex (for like a second, but maybe it needs a warning, idk)

a/n: i wrote this during quarantine, i was reading some tim imagines and i was like, why not? also there’s a joke about edward cullen not being pretty and i just wanna say that it’s a joke, just in case someone hates me for it

masterlist

***

The United States of America have been in quarantine for five days and I’m already bored out of my mind.

I’ve done it all! I’ve made puzzles, I’ve binge watched the whole child section and family sections on Netflix, I’ve had a Harry Potter marathon, I’ve re-read like ten books… I can’t find anything else that I want to do in this apartment.

[...]

“Ugh!” I sigh dragging the word as I flop on the sofa “This is so boring!” once again, I drag the last word, just to make sure whoever can hear me feels my agony.

And I know for a fact that someone can hear me, because they live with me and have no option but to bear with me and my cranky self for as long as this social isolation lasts.

I hear his laugh and seconds later I see his figure get out of the bedroom and into the living room.

“Are you bored?” Timothée mocks, looking at me from his spot in the side of the couch.

I glare at the sight of his smirk. Unfortunately, him being upside down doesn’t hide it, and it can be so annoying when I’m not in the mood and he’s just making fun of me. When my glare just makes his smirk bigger I change my expression into a pout.

“Yes” I sigh, bring my arms up and letting them fall for emphasis “There’s nothing else to do in here!”

Timothée lifts my head up and sits down, placing it on his lap. He still has that stupid smirk on.

“Poor, poor Iris. What ever will she do?” he asks dramatically. A mischievous grin replaces his smirk and he looks down at me again “You could always do me” he winks.

I look at him with an unamused expression.

“You’re not funny Chalamet. There’s gotta be something for us to do! We’re only five days into this imprisoning, I can’t possibly have run out of things to do”

“You could always keep watching TV, there’s something new every hour” he suggests “Or you could find some tutorial in YouTube and try to do your make-up, you like that”

I think about it, furrowing my brows as if it were a very important decision. My boyfriend’s fingers found their way to my hair, and started playing with it, making my body relax almost instantly.

“I’m not in the mood for that, maybe tomorrow” I close my eyes, humming as I smile in delight. Damn, this massage feels amazing.

I feel Tim chuckle lightly at my actions, his chest vibrating beside me, making my smile grow bigger.

“Well, we have all the time in the world, so-” I bolt up, scaring him.

“Spy Kids: All the Time in the World! I’m adding that to the list of movies to watch. Good call, babe” I pat his arm as a reward. He just looks at me dumfounded and blinks “Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?” I lay back down and put his hand back on my head. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and rolls his eyes with a smile.

“How about… we cook something? Oooh, we can bake cookies!”

“Yeah, we can do that… But first let’s stay like this for a bit, mkay?” I sigh in content again, turning on my side so I can wrap my arms around his torso and hide my face in his belly.

Instead of letting me stay like that, he picks me up, ignoring my protests. And just when I think he’s going to make me bake cookies with him, he walks to our bedroom and lays us both on the bed. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him, then he moves his other hand to my head and goes back to playing with my hair. I nuzzle my head on his chest and close my eyes, letting myself drift off.

[...]

When I wake up, it’s been three hours since Timothée carried me to bed. I smile softly, still holding onto him, and look up to see his face. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s awake. His career is acting, and yet he has never been able to fool me into thinking he’s sleeping. He says it’s because it’s me. Whenever he tries to make it seem like he’s doing it, a smile slowly creeps to his face and he always ends up laughing.

Like right now, his nostrils are getting bigger, the corners of his lips are twitching upwards and I can already tell that in five seconds he’s gonna burst out a breathy laugh.

“C’mon Tim, just laugh already” and he does. And his laugh makes me smile and join in.

“I don’t know why, I just laugh. It’s your fault, y’know?” he said when he calmed down. I let out another laugh and shake my head at him, leaning in to kiss his lips “Can we make cookies now?” his excitement is similar to a child’s.

“Have you slept at all? Or you’ve been too occupied thinking about the cookies?”

“For your information,” he says in a matter of fact tone “I have slept. I woke up fifteen minutes ago”

“And you’ve been watching me sleep?”

“Pretty much”

“What a creep. Are you trying to out win Edward Cullen or something? I mean, you’re pale baby, but not that pale” Tim rolls his eyes at my stupidity.

“I am more handsome that that bloodsucker”

“A lot of people are. Don’t think you’re special, honey” I pat his cheek and he pouts.

He pecks my lips and gets up, taking all my warmth with him. I sigh before following him. He’s taken out apron that his mother gave us and he’s put it on. The apron is bright pink and say “Kiss the Chef” on it in white. He looks at me and puckers his lips.

“Kiss the Chef!” he exclaims, and I laugh walking over to do so.

“Ok, Chef Chalamet, how do we make these cookies?”

“First, we take out the ingredients” he claps his hands, giggling in excitement “You take out the butter, eggs and flour, I’ll get the rest” I turn around to get to the fridge and get the eggs and butter out, then to the cupboards.

When I turn around, Tim has his back to me and seems to be occupied doing something. I silently walk over to him and stand on my tip toes to see what he’s hiding.

“Are those chocolate chips?!” I exclaim, so loudly that he jumps around. He has chocolate on the corner of his lips “And you’re eating them without me?!” I point at him accusingly.

He shakes his head, looking like a kid that was just caught with chocolate all over his mouth. When he realizes how stupid he looks, he swallows whatever is left in his mouth.

“Uh… no?”

“Good try. Gimme that” I snatch them from him. I take a fistful and throw it in my mouth “Now, don’t take anymore. We need them” I manage to say while munching.

“Right” he narrows his eyes “Okay, let’s start. We’ve been saying that for five minutes and we still haven’t done anything”

I leave the stance to go find my phone. If we’re doing this we need music, and I’ve been wanting to listen to soundtracks. I get my phone from the coffee table in the living room and turn on the Bluetooth to connect it to the speaker. She’s So Gone from the old Disney Channel movie, Lemonade Mouth comes on, and I smile.

“Now we can start” I say, looking over at my boyfriend, that just chuckles and shakes his head, curls bouncing around. We both know I’ll spend more time singing and dancing than helping with the cooking thing.

I can’t sing, my voice is not pretty, and my dancing isn’t the best either, but hey, at least I have fun. I mix the ingredients in the bowl jumping slightly on my feet, singing to the lyrics. When the chorus comes around, I take the whisk and use it as a microphone, making a whole scene right then and there.

“She’s so goooooneee awaaaaay” I sing to Timothée “Liiiike hiiiistooryyyyy… Sing with me Timmy!”

But he doesn’t, he just bobs his head to the rhythm, tapping his foot. He laughs at my dance moves, like he always does, but I don’t care. Music puts me in a good mood, and this is probably the first time in five days I’m moving more than to go from the couch to bed or vice versa.

The song ends, and The Other Side comes in. I go back to mixing, bumping my hip with Tim’s and smiling brightly at him. He’s mixing his own bowl and at this rate he’ll end up mixing mine too. I’m a disaster with staying concentrated as it is, but if you play music for me… let’s just say I had this phase at high school where I was failing almost everything and later we found out it was because I kept listening to music while studying.

And just like I predicted, the boy beside me takes everything from my hands and starts doing it himself.

“Go dance in the living room” he orders “You have more space” I smirk and elbow him.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you can see me from here. It’s okay Timmy, you can say that, don’t feel embarrassed. I mean, you admitted you watch me sleep earlier” I wink at him, and he rolls his eyes “It can’t really get any creepier can it?”

“Just go!” he laughs “You’re not helping here anyways”

“Hey! I can do this and not dance!”

“Oh really?” he challenges.

“Yes, really. I’ll show you”

But just as I say that, Dancing Queen comes up, and I know I’m screwed. I’ve never been able to resist this song and luckily for me, neither has Timmy. He looks at me with his lips pursed.

“After this song” he states, before taking my hand and twirling me around singing “Having the time of your life…”

[...]

“These are amazing babe” I tell him while biting my third cookie “You really are a chef. God” I moan as I go for the fourth.

Next to me, Timothée chuckles and holds me tighter, kissing my head.

“Took a lot to make them too, you were quite distracting”

“But you had fun, and I had fun. So mission Avoid Boredom During the Day was a success! And as a plus, now we have food to last us a day or two if you stop me now”

“I am gonna stop you know, otherwise you’ll get sick and I don’t want to take care of you to avoid getting bored tomorrow”

“Gee, thanks hun”

“Anytime chérie” he winked.

#timothée hal chalamet #timothée chalamet #quarantine #cookies #boredom #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 2

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Henry can’t believe that he had the guts to ask the Sandy Choi to join him on his walk. He is too afraid to slide into her DM’s, let alone to follow her on Instagram, but this he can do?

He just knows that Jackson is going to haunt him with this for a very long time.

He sits on a park bench, nervously moving his leg up and down. It’s cooling down nicely and the spot he has chosen, has a little beach, with a nice lake for Kal to swim in.

Henry rethought his outfit about five times. He wanted something casual, but nothing too sloppy. Sandy always looks so put together in her vlogs and since she had to get ready, he simply knows that she’ll look absolutely stunning.

He looks at his black running shorts, that he paired with a white shirt and some black sneakers. It’s nothing too much, but he doesn’t want her to think that he is a try hard. Besides, this is probably the only outfit that doesn’t suffocate him to death, especially with the aftermaths of today’s temperatures.

He keeps out looking for her. Was it impersonal of him to just sent her his location? Should’ve he picked her up from her house? But what if she’s not comfortable with that?

God, his mind is running all over the place. Kal whines a bit, a nice distraction for a few seconds. ‘I know, but we have to wait a bit for Sandy.’

The fact that he met her friend Lacey last night during one of Jackson’s party. Normally he isn’t too keen on those parties, but this one, he felt like he should go and thank God he did. He has Sandy Choi’s number and texting her has been such a thrill. He has neglected the things he needed to do, solely so he could focus on texting her. She was funny, witty and Henry couldn’t get the idiotic grin off his face.

He stares to his left, before he finally turns his attention to his right. His breath gets caught in his throat. He admired her on her Instagram account (that he would search for every single day, because he couldn’t seem to follow her, too afraid to do so) and on her vlogs, but nothing prepared him for seeing her in real life.

She is wearing a blue and white tartan dress, with tiny sleeves. It comes halfway her thighs and she paired some old white sneakers and some socks with a lace border with it. He knows this dress, he has seen it in quite a few of her vlogs. He can sometimes barely remember the names of the interviewers who just introduced themselves, but this he remembers.

Sandy runs her fingers through her long locks and looks up from her phone, scanning the area. Her eyes finally land on him and a timid smile appears on her face, before she walks up to him.

Henry notices a small change in her body language. The way her shoulders are tense, he can tell she’s nervous. To be fair, he is too, but he knows he can hide it a lot better.

‘Hi,’ he says, holding up his hand, immediately regretting it. God, he looks like a moron.

She stops about four meters apart from him, fidgeting her hands. ‘Hi.’ Her voice matches her appearance: tiny and sweet.

‘How are you?’ he asks, shoving his hand in his pocket, not quite knowing what to do with it.

‘I’m good, thank you.’

Kal gets up from his spot and Henry realizes that he for a second forgot that he brought a dog with him. His own dog for that matter. Sandy holds out her hand when he is nearing her and she smiles. ‘Hi there,’ she says, her voice a little higher as one does when talking to an animal. ‘I never expected you to be this big.’ She scratches him behind his ears and Kal wags his tail.

‘Shall we go?’ Henry asks.

The only things he earns from her is a nod and a soft: ‘Mhm’.

Is he doing something wrong? Was he too forward by asking her to join him? He usually is never this nervous around people, around women for that matter, but Sandy Choi is doing something to him.

They watch as Kal walks in front of them, sniffing trees, marking his territory. She hasn’t said anything so far, something he doesn’t understand. They were texting for hours on end and he enjoyed himself. He loved every second of it. There was never an awkward silence and she was pretty talkative, really funny and witty.

What has changed?

‘What have you been doing today?’ he asks, desperately needing to get a conversation going. ‘Besides texting me.’

She finally looks up, her brown eyes meeting his. It doesn’t last long though, because she averts her eyes and stares at Kal again. She has a soft smile toying on her lips though and she says: ‘I’ve been slowly destructing my own house, because you keep on distracting me.’

He nearly buffs out his chest. ‘Oh, I have I now?’

‘Mhm.’

Kal rushes towards them. He seems to like Sandy, because he keeps on checking in on her, sniffing her hand and licking it in the process. He can’t really seem to pull himself away from Sandy and Henry totally understands. Though she has been pretty timid, it’s something about her presence that is oddly calming.

‘He likes you,’ Henry notes.

‘Good thing I like him too, then.’

‘You don’t have pets, have you?’

‘You tell me.’ She still doesn’t look at him, but he likes those tiny remarks she makes. He figures she is getting more comfortable around him. ‘I’ve heard you have been watching my vlogs intently.’

Henry can’t stop the chuckle, though his cheeks flame of embarrassment. ‘Well, you don’t have one, that I know. Is it because you don’t want one?’

‘I want a pet, preferably a dog, but my landlord doesn’t allow it. If my life wasn’t plastered on the internet, I would’ve hidden one there, but I know he watches my channel too, so that’s out of the window really.’ Her gaze falls on Kal, who sprints towards the water.

‘Shame.’

The two of them stand in the sand, staring at Kal, who is getting it in his head. The entire day he was down on the tiles in the bathroom, since that’s the coldest spot in his home. Right now, feeling the refreshment of the water, it causes him to go crazy. Henry has seen it before this week, whenever he would walk him here at the end of the day, so Kal could cool off.

He watches his dog jumping in and out of the water, running circles on the grass around them. ‘He is mad,’ he mentions.

She snickers softly. ‘He seems like a sweetheart.’

Henry looks to the side. She chewing on the inside of her cheek, but finally Sandy actually looks up at him. She doesn’t look away instantly. ‘What?’ she asks him. ‘Is there something on my face?’

‘No, no,’ he says. ‘Just that—’

Before he can finish his sentence, Kal rushes through the gap between them, only he bumps with his wet side against her legs. She wasn’t totally prepared for the force that comes with Kal. He knows from watching her vlogs that she can be a klutz from time to time and standing here in the sand, can’t be good. He sees that she is losing her balance, so he quickly steps forward and wraps his arm around her waist, preventing her from falling backwards in the sand.

It was a reflex, but now he is actually holding her, his hand on her side, hers resting on his bicep. His heart nearly beats out of his chest, to a point where every heartbeat hurts a bit. He never would’ve thought that he’d be this close to her. The smell of her perfume, a sweet flowery scent.

She quickly blinks her eyes and swallows hard, not breaking eye contact with him. He notices her pupil enlarges a bit in her dark eyes, though the sun is shining on them. ‘Thanks,’ she whispers.

‘I’m sorry, he can be a bit—’

‘It’s okay,’ Sandy interrupts him, a blush apparent on her cheeks.

Then Henry realizes he is still holding her and he retreats his arm, her soft hand grazing over his lower arm and his wrist. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Mhm.’

That mhm again. Is that a good mhm, a bad mhm? ‘Oh, no, your shoes and legs,’ Henry notices, cringing at the sight of how she looks. God, he shouldn’t have gone here. Her shoes are marked with a print of Kal’s muddy paw and her legs have stripes of mud on it.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says. ‘It’s okay. Comes with a dog, right?’

‘I’m truly sorry,’ Henry continues to apologize, but yet again she simply shakes her head.

‘Really, don’t worry about it, Henry. It’s totally fine. I have a washing machine back home.’

The way his name sounds when she says it… He all of the sudden likes his name a lot more. Kal rushes towards them and with a stern voice, Henry tells Kal to stop. He obeys, but Henry knows the look on the face of his furry companion. He can see it in the way the big American Akita stands. The dog wants to shake the water and mud off of himself. Henry pulls Sandy by her arm and hides her behind his broad body, while the droplets of water mixed with mud cover his face and his white shirt.

To make things even worse, Kal places his front legs on Henry’s chest, wanting to lick his face. ‘Down, Kal, down.’

Kal stands with all of his four paws on the sand again and he hears a soft giggle from behind him. He turns around, only to see Sandy with her hands covering her mouth. ‘How do I look?’ he asks her, an amused smile on his face. He looks at the prints on his chest and he can only imagine how his face looks like, judging from his arms.

‘Like you need a bath.’ She smiles at him and it’s the brightest smile he has seen of her so far. He just knows that he’ll dream about that exact smile, the way her eyes brighten up as well. ‘Thank you,’ she says, ‘you are truly a gentleman, Henry.’

⟢⟡⟣

The silence between them isn’t awkward anymore, but it’s actually kind of soothing as they continue their walk. Slowly they are talking a bit more, about the sky, the hot air balloons they see and she constantly tells him where she sees a cat, so he can brace himself before Kal pulls the leash, wanting to chase the animals.

Henry decides to live up to the title she has given him, and actually walk her home now, like a real gentleman. ‘What was it like setting up a YouTube channel?’ Henry decides to ask her.

‘It was terrifying,’ she honestly admits. ‘But was the best decision I’ve ever made. Before I uploaded my first video, I made like seven videos prior, but they weren’t good enough in my eyes.’

‘You’re a perfectionist?’

‘Pretty much. Why?’

‘I was wondering,’ Henry says, as they stop walking, indicating they are at her apartment building. ‘I’ve been thinking about setting up a channel of my own.’

‘Really?’ she asks him. ‘That’s exciting. What kind of channel?’

‘Something with maybe building some pc’s or work out videos, tips, gaming, maybe even some vlogs, if I’m interesting enough. I don’t know, but… Why are you smiling, Sandy?’ He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at the petite woman who is standing in front of him.

‘You thought that uploading those videos on IGTV wasn’t enough already? Give your fans a break, Henry.’ She runs her fingers through her hair and adds: ‘But I think that it’s really great that you want to do that.’

‘Could you help me out?’ he blurts out.

Sandy’s eyes widen. ‘You want me to help you out? Why?’

‘Because you are talented. I feel like you are the person that could help me out. If you have time of course. I mean, I get that you have more to do than help an idiot create a YouTube channel. You know what, forget I mentioned it. I hope you have a pleasant evening and we’ll probably meet again or not, because I totally ruined it by suggesting this.’ After his ramble, Henry turns around to walk away with Kal.

Fuck, he is so stupid. God, why did he even tell her this? She is probably scared away now and he totally understands. It almost sounds like that is the reason why he wanted to talk to her.

‘Wait,’ Sandy says, causing not only Henry, but also Kal to listen. ‘I want to help you out. It would be my pleasure to help you setting up your channel.’

‘Really?’ He looks at her after he turned around. ‘You’d do that?’

‘Mhm, only you have to know that I take this kind of thing very seriously.’ She is holding her keys in her hand. ‘Does tomorrow work for you?’

She wants to meet with him again! He didn’t scare her away, he actually made her come back. He holds back his excitement. ‘Tomorrow works for me. I’ll text you the address tonight, okay?’

‘Okay.’ She fumbles with the keys, staring at them, before she makes eye contact with him again. She bites her lower lip and finally says: ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, Henry.’

‘See you tomorrow, Sandy.’

Sandy pushes in the key in the lock and holds up her hand to wave at him. He quickly waves back and he watches her step inside. ‘Did you hear that, Kal?’ he asks the dirty dog, who he definitely needs to bathe when they get home. ‘She’s coming over tomorrow. I should buy something sweet for her. She likes chocolate, so I should get that for her. Oh fuck, I need to clean up. I don’t want her to think that I live in a bachelor pad.’

Grateful that he wore his running shoes, he takes a sprint with Kal, a smile on his face and it doesn’t fall off, even when he is already home.

Sandy Choi is coming over tomorrow.

Taglist: @flhorah // @henrythickcavill // @toomanystoriessolittletime // @tumblnewby // @newts-fan-case

#henry cavill #getting obsessed with henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #so henry you want to start a youtube channel #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x sandy choi

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drummergirl231-2 · 4 years

Text

I don’t even know what to title this.

I’ve been trying to come up with a title for I don’t know how long and now I’m legit crying because I can’t even figure out how to start this post... so this will have to do.

I’m not okay. I can’t keep up with all this and everything going on in my life. I feel like I’m strapped into a car on a collision course for a brick wall and I’m just frozen in fear anticipating the impact.

Everything has kind of been spiraling out of control in my personal life (if you want you can skip to the bolded headings for what’s relevant to this blog).

My parents - whom a lot of you know about from my GoFundMe - are moving from California to Tennessee. I can’t afford to stay in California so I have to go with them (though they insist my going with them is my choice and that I totally have other options... but whatever. At least I’ll be out of California).

If my job can’t transfer me, I’ll lose it just when I was going to get the most hours (and therefore money) of the year, but my parents refuse to wait until after Christmas to sell.

My grandma recently died and even though my grandpa (step-grandfather) invited us up to the house at one point, his horrible son met us on the porch and rudely refused to let us in, telling us his father wasn’t seeing anyone. Now that his horrible son has left, grandpa invited my uncle and aunt up, but not my parents or me, and my uncle said he’s going to do what he can to bring us what we want of grandma’s. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my grandma because her death was sudden, and now I’m scared I won’t get to say goodbye to the only grandpa I’ve ever known, either, because I’m moving to Tennessee and he’s 89 and has heart problems and I’m scared he’ll die of a broken heart in every sense. I’d have liked to say goodbye to the house, too. My grandma didn’t want a funeral. She was one of those “Don’t fuss over me,” types who fussed over all of us. I have zero closure in this situation.

I have to get ready to move but have no idea how/when/where to start. I’m terrified of the 4 day journey to Tennessee, trapped in an SUV with my parents and five animals, including my poor elderly cat, Kira, whose anxiety makes mine look mild. I have Misophonia and so many food allergies I can’t eat out so I don’t know how I’ll do food for four days. My parents say they won’t bring the camping stove for me to warm up my lunches. It’s like they never raised an autistic child.

Things have been crazy for “Kristen,” me, but losing my grandparents, my home, possibly my job, and moving far from any family or friends I trust aside... things haven’t been easy for “DG,” me, either.

As badly as I want to start a youtube channel about Autism, Misophonia, food allergies, gut health, emotional abuse, etc., I cannot find the answers no matter how much I google when it comes to the tech problems I’ve faced. And I’m not even sure when I’d be able to record these videos because my parents are almost never gone. And when they are it’s not for long, and I just want to relax, and breathe, and be in the living room, and talk and sing out loud, and do all the things I don’t get to do when they’re here for just a little bit. I stay in my room so much I feel like I’m a diver holding my breath and as soon as they leave I can surface and gasp for air.

Also, I’m getting more and more self-conscious about my acne and this one tooth I have that’s crooked because my mom has enjoyed commenting on them lately and it makes me kind of scared to share my face with the internet and last night I legit had a dream about trying to get these things fixed with more braces and foundation. Like what even I literally don’t care about this stuff when people don’t comment on it. Why do I have to be so sensitive?

Problem is, I am figuring out why. I’ve been doing so much research on Narcissistic Personality Disorder and narcissistic abuse to try to understand my parents and childhood and young adult years, that not only have I been able to identify it in my abusers, but I’ve found some traits in myself. And I’ve searched and studied and tried to see if I have it and after this inward witch hunt I have to conclude I don’t have Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but I have a few signs of vulnerable narcissism. Even if they’re not enough for a label, they’re definitely things I need to work on (things like hypersensitivity, victim mentality, sulking and shut down, self-sabotage, things like that... and now apparently vanity, but only when people frequently give me flack about my face). Trouble is I don’t know how to work on these because I have no mentor, no counselor/therapist, no pastor, nothin’. And most of the videos about Narcissism are about identifying it or surviving it as the victim, not growing past the traits, because full-blown narcissists generally don’t acknowledge their flaws and try to fix them. So I’m at this annoying and fruitless phase of “self-improvement” where I just frequently scold myself for my thoughts.

YouTube ambitions and flaws aside, I have people waiting for the next chapter of my fanfic, and no one’s been pushy or anything, but there’s this huge weight on me to write, write, write, but with everything else going on in my life I just feel stuck. Like my brain is just “NERP.” And I feel guilty, like I’m the biggest disappointment to people.

And then there’s this blog itself.

It’s begun to feel more like an obligation for me rather than recreation. Every week I dread the time after a new episode airs. I want to make posts at my pace, about what I want to talk about, like what I used to do.

But sometimes the link I get has a weird video player window that I can’t make the right size to make decent gifs, and sometimes I can’t even take screenshots because when I pause it it’ll have the play triangle in the middle of the screen and the bottom of the screen will get dark, or sometimes the link just stops working. So I wait for the episode to go up on watchcartoononline because that’s where it works best for me but in the meantime I’m missing out on the fandom being online and by the time the episode goes up I’m just like, “What if the post I make of this moment gets like zero notes because it’s already been giffed and talked about a million times and I’m late to the party? What if I’m disappointing everyone?”

I try to not post anything until I can post about the episode properly, and I’ve asked people not to send me asks or messages with episode spoilers until they’ve seen proof on my blog that I’ve seen the episode, but that hasn’t stopped them. I get spoilery asks anyway.

I get a link relatively quickly but mainly I ask for people to wait for proof I’ve seen the episode because I want a chance to get my own thoughts on the episode out first before people ask me about specific things or straight up demand I talk about what they want me to talk about on my blog.

For a couple weeks I even made all my posts and saved them as drafts first so real quick I could just post ‘em all in a row and get ‘em out, because I know the second I post one thing I’ll have everyone going “OMIGOSH SHE’S ONLINE,” and trying to send me asks and messages and I’ll be trying to juggle them all while trying to make more posts about what I want to talk about. I feel like I have to reply to those messages because if I don’t I’m scared they’ll see me make another post after they’ve sent their message and be like, “What the heck she’s online why won’t she reply to me?” So sometimes I’ll just stop posting and hope and pray they think they just missed me or something, which isn’t fair to them.

But then I’ll see something new on my dash - art from khionyohann, new screencaps for the upcoming episode that DuckTalks shared - and I’ll want to reblog it, but then I’ll think: “I can’t reblog anything... people will know I’m online then. And I still haven’t posted about the episode. I can’t do things out of order. They’ll think, ‘Why isn’t she talking about the new episode? Why isn’t she answering my asks? Why isn’t she replying to me?”

And by the time the episode gets posted on watchcartoononline (and as long as I don’t have a migraine and I’m not paralyzed with fear), I make my posts, but by then I feel like I’m super late and I don’t even know what the point is of me reblogging things anymore, if I even remember there were things I wanted to reblog.

My time here has become nothing but me trying to please people while simultaneously trying to hide from them.

So... blarg. All that to say, I’m closing my ask box for a while. And I’m sorry to disappoint people. I’m just so overwhelmed by everything right now. Extroverted thinking isn’t even a cognitive function that comes naturally to an INFJ! It’s utterly exhausting.

And while I do still want to do more posts about the latest episode, I hope you’ll understand that things are just crazy for me right now and I’m not in a good place. I’m trying to be okay and I’m trying to be so excited about an episode that I get motivated enough find ways to blog about it no matter what but I don’t have the energy. I want to reblog stuff, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to interact.

And for the few I consider true friends on here, please know I’m not asking you to leave me alone or anything. Just know I might not respond as soon as you message me... which, honestly, you’re probably all used to by now, but I still feel super guilty about it.

I just need to simplify my time on here a little bit because I’m not okay.

#personal post #probably the longest i'm-closing-my-ask-box announcement ever #is ask box one word or two when it's referring to tumblr?

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