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onceupon · 3 years

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London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!!

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library.

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table.

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.”

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table.

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes.

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept.

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice.

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing.

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant.

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses.

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff.

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky.

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip.

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons.

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide.

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears.

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies

Olivia: :(

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind.

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears.

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body.

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up.

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile.

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning.

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee.

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat.

“So what are you chasing tonight?”

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead.

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously.

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return.

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement.

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow.

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted.

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed.

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows.

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued.

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now.

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober.

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you.

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night.

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things.

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before.

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days.

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did.

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own.

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off.

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops.

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside.

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you.

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone.

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again.

---

🏷: @hopebaker @pogueslandia @mardema

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine

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spine-buster · 3 years

Text

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series! I hope you all enjoy it. It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared! There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments. The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym. He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.

“Um, hello everyone. My name is Brock Boeser. I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver. And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation. He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other. A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was. “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out. He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so. “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s. Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury. In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest. In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes. I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there. Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said. “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed. “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused. It had been tough for a number of years. It had been really tough for a number of years. He nodded his head. “Yes ma’am. I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well. “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head. Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair. He appreciated the sentiment. He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously. It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.” “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting. Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle. It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought. It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time. Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news. Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports. The weather. Anything. Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms. She was smiling to let him know she was friendly. He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth. “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly. “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile. He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it. “That’s me. Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said. “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah. I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his. “God, they’re not gonna believe me when I say I met you. They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture? I don’t mind at all. I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness. He shouldn’t have been. Girls came up to him all the time. All the time. And they were most definitely not shy. But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places. A bar, sure. Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely. But not here. “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled. She turned to look behind her. Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos. “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie. How is Hamish these days? You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately. His caregivers have been working around the clock for him. They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded. “They are angels on Earth. Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock. “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther. See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious. “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me. I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings. I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers. But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with. So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying. “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded. “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen. I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask. He knew he shouldn’t. But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know. “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked. “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him. I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods. It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast. But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either. Some days he didn’t. “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting. “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee. “But let’s…not talk about this for too long. Do you like Vancouver? Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic. “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling. “The city’s great. The fans are great. My teammates – I mean they’re amazing. What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that. She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer. “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’. “No. I pursued it only up until a certain point. I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why? Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do. But I loved my dad more than I loved dance. And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her. “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no. Sorry – I should have specified. I’m an only child. Like, the only child between my parents. But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question. It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful. “It was awful. The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know? I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers. Even stuff concerning me. It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was. But it’s the only life I know,” she said. “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy. I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again. “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified. “What’s it from? Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said. “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion. “Gillespie Brothers Investments. I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them. I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them. But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out. “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded. Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire. She didn’t act like a billionaire. Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like. He’d never met one before in his life. Well, besides Francesco. “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver. What about the nature? I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this. What about you?”

Brock smiled. “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks. They were kicked out. They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing. Their coffees had gotten cold. They hadn’t ordered new ones. And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her. They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours. “Of course I want your number,” he said. There was no reason to hide it. No reason to deny it. No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone. She gave him her number. He texted his name to hers so she’d have his. When that dance was done, she looked up at him. “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded. “I’m glad I met you too. I—I really enjoyed this. And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head. “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself. “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now. “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked. Brock understood. She took a few steps back before smiling one more time. “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat. Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

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denkamis · 3 years

Text

bnha characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! some swearing, but a lot of fluff for the best boys

characters: shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima, tamaki amajiki

notes: dedicated to @nekomanagers / @meilbox ,, for being the most supportive human being in my life and undoubtedly the reason i have been posting so much of my work here on this blog. thank you for dealing with all of my shenanigans on and offline, and for picking me up when i felt like i couldn’t. <33 i love you.

shouto todoroki

flowers & chocolate as gifts

he’s one for the classics

he buys you the most gorgeous flowers, ones that are most definitely your favourites mixed in with an arrangement of others that all have particular meanings to them

he also got you expensive truffle chocolates, and also some cheaper ones that you really like to snack on

he’s so thoughtful, it makes your heart melt

literally so sincere as he gives it to you too, has a whole ass speech prepared

shouto came home after work a bit later than you had expected him to. perhaps he got caught up with some hero work, a report that needed to absolutely be filed today or a villain that just wouldn’t let up. either way, when you heard the front door to your shared apartment open, you came running over to greet him. as you turned the corner to see the front door, there stood shouto with the most breathtaking bouquet of flowers you had ever seen in your life. it was a myriad of colours and petals of all kinds standing out against the white of his suit. since when did he have time to change after work to surprise you like this? his usual aloof expression was replaced by a soft smile, one that was reserved for you and only you, “happy valentine’s day, my love.”

he strolled over to you, initiating a kiss that was slow and passionate. it made your heart melt right on the spot, your face erupting in nothing but pure warmth. “shouto, these are beautiful,” you told him as you took a moment to admire the different flowers that went into assembling the collection in his hands. “these ones mean gratitude, and this one here means love. truth is the white coloured one,” he pointed out, guiding you through the meaning of each individual one that made up your special gift.

he snuck a glance at you, your face radiant with how much you were smiling at his thoughtful present. “i also bought you a few of your favourites,” shouto gestured to the vanity you two kept by the door. you turned to see a very expensive box of truffles and a few hershey's kisses paired with more of your favourite corner store chocolates.

“it wasn’t too much, was it?” shouto asked quietly, watching as your jaw dropped at the sight of the truffles. didn’t you hear a rumour once about how those ones literally had gold integrated into their wrappers? “no no, it’s wonderful. this is.. you’re so sweet,” you giggled, tapping his chest as a signal for him to lean down so you could kiss him again. no matter how many times shouto gifted you flowers and chocolate on valentine’s day, you got the same butterflies as you did when he first gave you these heartfelt gifts back in high school.

denki kaminari

fancy dinner date at an expensive restaurant

the entire bakusquad was EGGING HIM ON for something good on valentine’s day okay

he’s been talking big game about some kind of secret plan he had in store for the both of you

he bought you an outfit that not only suited your style, but was elegant and absolutely stunning as it complimented your figure

he pulled out all the stops for you

he wanted to be classy, so he reserved a table for two at one of those rooftop restaurants so you two could dine and enjoy each other’s company

“like grown ups” as denki says

you were sat at a candlelit dinner for two near the edge of one of the most highly rated restaurants in your area. denki had really gone all out, wanting to treat you like the resilient and beautiful partner you were to him with a night that would be unforgettable.

and unforgettable it was.

you two were arguably the loudest ones at the restaurant, laughing and overall just having a good time amongst such high class individuals. denki was making faces at you across the table, making you choke back on the red wine you were having. “and then bakugou slapped that dude! it was crazy, y/n, super fucking wild,” he laughed as you nodded your head in agreement. denki sure knew how to talk, filling in conversations with anecdotes and playful conversation topics sprinkled in with compliments for you. he loved you so damn much, he felt like his electricity quirk was on all the time with you from how much you turned his brain to mush.

he couldn’t get over how gorgeous you looked tonight, with your hair done and your outfit styled to perfection. like, that was all his? and a personality to match? damn! he felt like for once, he was doing something right in his life for you. he wasn’t the dumbass everyone constantly made him out to be. he was trying to be the best for you, and if he could make you happy for the rest of his life, then nothing else mattered to him.

your waiters came back with two platters in hand, with outrageously small portion sizes that could feed maybe a small cat at best. the two of you stared at each other with blank expressions. oh no, this would not be enough to appease your appetites. each of your plates were worth twelve thousand yen, so you really couldn’t get more. on top of that, denki had prepaid everything for tonight anyways. what was worse was that the food tasted like a rat’s ass, yet the two of you dined like kings regardless. well, you pretended to at least. as you were suppressing your disgusted expressions out of kindness to both the waiters and the other guests, denki couldn’t help but stare at you. you were his person, and although the dinner wasn’t exactly all it was cracked up to be, he knew that you dealt with so much more of him than anyone else was willing to. that meant more to him than words could even express.

that, and he immediately bought you apology mcnuggets after you two left. then you two really ate like kings.

eijirou kirishima

long captions to their s/o on instagram

this mfing SAP

he has everything planned, he made like 3 drafts beforehand and even had bakugou proofread it for him

he had all the different pictures he wanted to post too

this is a little unrelated but mans definitely showed up to your house with red roses and a suit

LIKE A GENTLEMAN

your phone buzzed, indicating that you had received a new notification from instagram. after taking your phone off the table and entering in your passcode, you tapped into the instagram app and saw what had caused the tiny ping.

eijikirishima has tagged you in a post!

the first photo was an oldie, but a goodie. it was of you and eijirou at prom together back when you both graduated from ua. he looked absolutely stunning in the darkened suit he had bought, right beside you in a matching colour scheme. though the picture was in fact a meme in itself, as he posed like that one will smith picture gesturing to you with the goofiest smile. you remembered telling him that he was absolutely banned from wearing crocs that night to the dance. it was a good thing you had saved him from that utter atrocity.

the next picture was a photo of you with the puppy you had adopted together. you had named him bean, to which eijirou had expressed was the manliest name he had ever heard for a tiny pomeranian puppy. you were pressing a kiss to bean’s nose, the angle of the photo showing off your loving nature that he had fallen for.

the last was a picture of you sleeping against him during a long train ride for a mission. it wasn’t the most flattering picture eijirou had of you, but it was certainly one of his favourites. you looked so at peace, cuddling against his side with a tiny line of drool running down your chin. he was smiling in the picture, his eyes solely trained on you with the most wholesome look on his face. he was so utterly in love with you, and this picture couldn’t have showcased that look any more clearly.

the caption read as follows:

Hey bros! It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it is my duty to post about the most amazing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating for about five years now! Y/N, we’ve been through so much together over the years, we’ve had ups and downs and everything else in between but I’ve been fortunate enough to remain standing here as the person you can confide in, much like you are that person to me. You’re my rock. I continue to find so much more to love about you every single day. I hope I get to spend the rest of my days with you, my best friend, my partner throughout everything. I love you so so much, pebble. I hope we get to stay just like this forever, and grow as we go along.

needless to say, many happy tears were shed that day.

tamaki amajiki

love letters in their shoe locker

for all the days leading up to valentine’s, tamaki put a different letter in your locker

mirio hyped him up asf to even get him to write what he was feeling towards you

and he was still nervous as hell and had mirio stand guard so that you didn’t accidentally walk in on him shoving weird notes in your locker

but unfortunately for tamaki, mirio isn’t a very good watchman

and so you caught him in the act, right on valentine’s day ironically

it was the end of a long, rather eventful day at school. you had gotten a few confessions from some other students, to which you turned down due to someone else being on your mind. for the past few days, you had begun collecting small letters in your shoe locker. the notes were short, handwritten with small doodles and even a recipe or two for you to try. it seemed like this person was reaching out to you to express their true feelings, their intimate and romantic feelings, towards you. and you couldn’t help but feel the same towards them, whoever they were. this admirer unveiled small details about themselves to you, yet hadn’t revealed enough for you to piece together a name. so here you were, sprinting down the hallway as soon as the bell went to try and catch a glimpse of this mystery individual who had been leaving you such sweet writings for you to cherish.

you rounded the final corner and there you saw him. before that happened however, you first you ran into your classmate and good friend mirio, who let out a tiny “oof” at the sudden contact. you apologized to him in a rush, explaining in a rushed tone that you needed to go meet someone. he nodded and waved to you before realizing that he had one job and tamaki was definitely going to kill him later.

only slightly out of breath, you saw a mess of indigo hair and shaky hands sliding your latest note into your shoe locker. as he turned to leave, his face drained of colour at the sight of you. he slouched further, retreating into himself. he looked around nervously for an excuse as to what the hell he was doing shoving letters into your locker. though, you beat him to speaking first.

“it’s you.”

tamaki’s throat felt scratchy and swollen, his entire form shaking as you slowly, calmly made your way towards him. “i- i can explain, y/n,” tamaki barely murmured, his nerves beginning to get the best of him yet again. “your words, they were so intimate. you were so well spoken on paper, i just had to meet you in person,” you confessed to him with a patient smile on your face. you stood a relatively safe distance away, not wanting to overwhelm him by your presence. you had just caught him in such a compromising act, after all.

“i read all your letters,” you went on, “every night before bed, i read them, tamaki. i even tried out the udon recipe you gave me and it was the best udon i had ever had. everything you said in your letters, the confessions and the other, more personal stuff… is that all true?”

tamaki, though he felt frozen beneath your warm gaze, had the courage to nod his head. “i didn’t know how else to tell you,” he admitted, hands now covering his face in shame. suddenly, gentle fingers grasped at his shaky ones as you uncovered his face to the light that was you. “i like you too,” you said finally. it felt like a chord had snapped inside of tamaki’s mind and all his feelings came crashing down in a deep crescendo of emotions all for you. it was all that he had ever wanted from you: a response.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #denkamis.scenarios

142 notes · View notes

gothamslittlejester · 4 years

Text

Sweet Comfort

This was written for my dear friend @ajokeformur-ray who deserves the world and all the Joker comfort it can bring <333 Thank you for checking up on me even after I fell off the earth, and for reminding me just how much I missed writing. I hope that in return this brings a smile to your face and reminds you just how loved and adored you are :)) (also I know I went SLIGHLTY over word count but oop)

Angst to Comfort. Reader goes into a depression spiel and begins to self isolate and shut down, trying to push Joker away as a result. He’s not having any of that.

Word Count: 2566

TW: Language, depression/depressive thoughts, but quickly followed by clown cuddles!

You just knew, from the very moment you opened your eyes that morning, that today would be nothing short of the exhausting, dreaded imprisonment that was your own depression. It was bleak, and dark, and pulled you in with heavy hands, like a blackhole designed for your own suffering. And suffering you were.

You closed your eyes again and prayed for sleep. The mere thought of getting up to pour some coffee seemed too complicated and tiring, so you didn’t even bother entertaining the idea. What was yesterday’s anxiety was now today’s misery, and you mentally slapped yourself for ignoring the signs. You had dismissed the intrusive thoughts that had whispered to you all week- surely they would go away alone, right?- but they had taken their time to catch up with you, and now you were facing the consequences. Bitterly, you wondered if you deserved it.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but give your destructive subconsciousness some credit; it waited patiently to attack, taking its time in the back corners of your mind to let stress and insecurities seep into your bloodstream before the real pain sunk in. It wasn’t even cruel voices at this point- something you could pinpoint and fight against, something you could stop- it was just a thick, dark sea of emotions, and it pulled you in with serrated teeth.

It was the perfect poison, and you didn’t even know you were drinking it.

You had gotten so lost in your misery that you barely noticed the rustling sound coming from your left, barely felt clothed arms wrapping around your waist. Your silent suffering was immediately interrupted as Joker sleepily pulled you close, and although your masochistic thoughts still gripped into your flesh, Joker’s presence was unintentionally offering a distraction. Smokey breaths caressed your cheek, and you almost felt it- fuck, you wanted to feel it- but the sickness in your mind was ruthless and refused to give in so easily. Stray pieces of green hair tickled your neck as your lover nuzzled deeper into the embrace, still blissfully oblivious to the inner turmoil inside you.

A small part of you wanted to scream, to cry out for him, to beg him to pull you even closer until all you felt and thought and knew was his body, so you could heal, but your lips stubbornly remained shut. Instead, you silently prayed he would go back to sleep, so you could continue to suffer alone without dragging him into your own personal hell.

And maybe he would have gone back to sleep, like your demons wanted, if you had actually curled back into him like you always did and responded to his morning loving. But you didn’t, you didn’t move a muscle, and even in his hazy grogginess he could feel something was wrong.

His eyebrows creased together in confusion and tried again, nuzzling into your neck and leaving warm kisses to your cold skin. Joker knew you were awake from how you were breathing, so why weren’t you responding? He softly bit and nibbled at your throat, his fingers dancing along your torso as he wordlessly pleaded for a reaction.

He expected his little game to work, he knew how much you craved his attentive touch, yet you didn’t even offer a twitch in response. By now you would have scooched closer, interlaced your fingers in his hair, turned your head towards him, perhaps even giggled at the attention… but you continued to face the wall as if he didn’t even exist, and this set off several red flags in his brain.

He began to stir again, this time fully awake, and turned your body so you were facing him. You let him twist you around until your forehead was mere inches from his, but continued to hide behind the bulky comforter so he wouldn’t see the sadness that contorted your features. You tensed up, waiting for him to pull the blanket away, for the interrogation to begin… but neither came. You knew he was looking at you, studying you, and he most definitely could feel the despairing energy radiating from your body, yet he remained silent. His fingers continued to caress your stomach lovingly, quietly telling you he loved you, to open your eyes and tell him what was wrong, dammit, but you continued your isolation regardless.

Moments passed, and Joker began to feel his instinctive protectiveness take over. He had always been eerily observant when it came to you, and somewhere deep in his chaotic mind he came to the exact conclusion on what was wrong, minus the little details. He easily gathered you wanted to be left to suffer alone just from your body language, but he dismissed that thought entirely. You wished.

His arms once again wrapped around your body, this time more forcefully, and pulled your head against his chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong and how I can make it go away.” Despite the soft plea in his tired voice, you knew this wasn’t an offer, but a demand. Joker rarely demanded things from you, regardless of his dominating nature, but this was one of the few times he did, and you knew there was absolutely no room to argue.

The blackhole that was your depression continued to pull, its hands growing desperate, but now your clown was here, and Joker refused to let go. It was a tug of war, and you weren’t sure who was going to win. He pulled you deeper into his chest, the red fabric of his coat covering your vision and protecting you from the outside world. You idly wondered why he was wearing the blazer in bed and why he hadn’t taken it off last night, but the familiar scent of cigarettes, detergent and innocent blood brought you a small piece of comfort, as macabre as it was.

“I’m fine.” you said in a clipped voice, swallowing down the tremble in your throat. All you wanted to do was sink into your lover’s arms, let his words sooth you in a slumber and gently pick apart the demons that resided in your mind, but your depression wouldn’t allow it. The soundless voices egged you to isolate from him… to hide under the covers of your blanket and mourn your lost peace of mind… and you nearly did- how tempting sadness could be- if it wasn’t for how quick Joker had grown accustomed to your behavior.

The painted ends of his lips began to pull into a frown, his demeanor slowly changing into something more alarmed, and much, much more protective. His expression completely clouded over, and instinctively his arms began to tighten around your body almost painfully, protecting you from whatever was hurting his beloved soulmate.

“You know, I may be a clown but I’m not a fool”.

You furrowed your brows in silence, unable to come up with a good answer. You knew how perceptive he could be, and in complete honesty the last thing you wanted was to push him away, but dragging him into your pain felt selfish and wrong. You silently begged him to leave, to let you wallow in your own misery and not bring him into the grief that was your mind, but Joker began gritting his teeth like he had heard exactly what you were thinking.

“Don’t hide from me. Never from me.” He began to cradle your head in his hands, his nose ghosting up and down your face as he breathed in your scent. It was comforting and dotting, an undeniable sign of love, yet simultaneously loud with the words “I’m not going anywhere, so start talking.”

“I don’t want to push you away,” You finally whispered, tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t want to hide from you, I want to tell you everything even though it hurts.”

“Then don’t hide. Tell me everything that’s bothering you, no matter how bad it is, please.”

He was growing more overprotective every second, feeling your pain and fear grip at his heart but unable to pinpoint the danger causing it. He just wanted to see you smile, to see you happy and strong, and he wasn’t relenting until he knew exactly what was preventing it. He knew the walls you had created to keep him out were seconds away from breaking so he urged you on, his fingers still clutching your head near his, desperate for you to let him in.

“Please,” he repeated once more, torment coating his voice, and he knew the second you started to tremble that he had succeeded.

“Arthur…” you whispered out in a heartbroken sob, finally letting the tears spill out and trickle onto his clothes. You began to shake as the sadness trapped in your soul finally escaped, too weak and tired to hold it in for any longer.

Immediately, Joker began to coo in your ear and pet your hair, wiping the tears away with chaste kisses and soft touches. His legs wrapped around yours and he pulled the blanket more snuggly around you, creating a cocoon just for the two of you. He rubbed slow circles on your temple in an attempt to prevent a headache that was certainly going to follow, nuzzling your head even closer- if possible- to his own.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, clutching at your chest as if it was somehow your heart’s fault for creating this misery in your head. “It hurts, Arthur, and I don’t know what to do…”

“I know,” He crooned, his red lips leaving wet smears with every kiss he placed on your cheeks. “Let it out, sweetheart, just let it out. Let your Joker take care of you today. Let me help you.”

And so you did. You cried and cried for what felt like hours, basking in Joker’s care and protective grip on your trembling body. Not once did he drop his hold on you or stop his possessive care, patiently letting you release all the depression and anxiety you had been hiding away, until there was nothing left but small sniffs and hiccups.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you this morning. I was so sad, and felt so alone… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t… I didn’t want to burden you with my stupid mental issues”. You admitted, tiredly listening to the beating of his heart.

He shushed you, shaking his head at the last part. There was nothing ‘stupid’ about you, especially not something that hurt you to this extent. You were never a burden to him, and it tormented him that your demons had placed that idea in your head for so long without him noticing.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into your ear. Despite his reassuring words his voice quivered with anger, directed not at you but at the world and all the assholes that inhabited it. He knew you blamed yourself for your depressive states, but Joker didn’t believe you were the sole cause for a second. He speculated it was a lifetime of blaming yourself for family, fake friends, and other inconveniences, internalizing the blame instead of accusing those who were really responsible. It made his blood boil, and he bitterly wondered if he would start laughing uncontrollably at it all. How dare they show you so little mercy, leave you so empty and tortured and sad that you felt your only option was to close yourself off and suffer in silence? How dare these worthless, scummy, civilized people, break you like this? He had to physically bite his tongue to stop from voicing these thoughts aloud; you were still in a very vulnerable state and needed love and reassurance, not a furiously possessive bodyguard. He’d save that for another time. For now…

“Thank you for trusting me like this,” he muttered against your cheek after he had calmed himself down, and you nearly broke down a second time.

“Why are you thanking me?” You asked, because the thought of your clown loving you so much just didn’t make any sense to you right now. Not while the remnants of hatred and insecurity still lingered in your mind and body.

“Arthur, I should be thanking you, why-”

He shushed you promptly with a soft peck at your lips, letting his painted ones linger there for brief second so he could whisper a gentle “look at me”.

You shook your head stubbornly, ignoring his order, but Joker was having none of that. “Sweet thing,” he offered again, his voice absolutely heavy with concern but also intense with determination. “Look at me. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

He had a feeling the dominating nature of his tone might make you comply, and sure enough, your eyes shyly peeked up at him through wet lashes. His piercing eyes bore deep into your soul, captivating your entire existence so you couldn’t look away. It was the first time today that you had actually looked at him, and you were utterly devastated to find that his eyes were faintly puffy and unforgivably red, just like yours. Your eyes followed the trail of a single blue drop of paint that went down to his painted smile, but before you began crying all over again, he put a finger to your lips and shook his head. This isn’t about me.

“Thank you,” He praised, knowing you would finally listen to him and hear what he had to say. You were completely at his mercy, and mercy was exactly what you were getting.

“Your pain is my pain, and my pain is yours. If I… isolated myself away from you when I needed you the most, would you be ok with that?” It was a fair question. You shook your head no.

“Then how can you push me away for the same thing?”

You didn’t have an answer, but luckily for you, he had asked it rhetorically.

“All I want is for you to be happy… and safe… but also to… understand, that I would do absolutely everything for you. Your sadness is not a burden to me. Never think that.” His voice was hushed and serious, his eyes looking for any sign of disagreement. There was none.

“Do you understand?” He asked, desperately hoping you did. You nodded.

“Repeat it then.” He said, and although you felt it was childish, you didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Obediently, you complied to his request.

“You want me to be happy.” You mumbled shyly, and Joker gave you an encouraging kiss to your cheek, urging you to continue.

“You want me to be safe.” Another kiss, sloppier this time, and you felt a smile begin to tug at the corner of your lips.

“You would do anything for me, I am not a burden, and I should never think that.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

“I understand.” You said finally, and Joker rewarded you by attacking your whole face with painted kisses, purposely avoiding your lips so he could hear the delightful sound of your surprised squeals and laughter. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt all the sadness and stress of the morning melt away at last, and although a small part of you knew it would one day come back, for now it was nowhere to be found.

“I love you,” he cooed, and gave you a smile so sweet you couldn’t help but smile back.

#joker x reader #joker x y/n #arthur fleck x reader #joker imagine

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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DM Questions, Round 3.

So yet another list of questions I’ve received in DM that, though anonymously (until the person decides to say it was them), I’m posting for the class because these questions may be bumping around other people’s heads and these answers may help other people too, as the other answer lists seem to be doing. And also to further encourage IT IS OKAY TO DM ME AND ASK THINGS, it doesn’t make anyone stupid or anything, it’s a VERY DIFFERENT THOUGHT PROCESS to try to digest.

Who or what is Death? I kind of had the idea of everything having an opposing/flip side so God/Amara, Adam/Eve, Heaven/Hell, Purgatory/The Empty and had put The Shadow/Death together and it just led to who or what is Death? Life/Death. You’ll notice something though: beyond maybe Adam and Eve, these aren’t necessarily true dualities. God is Light (or stolen Light), Amara is the Absence of Light, because Darkness isn’t a thing, it’s a nonthing. Heaven is supposedly union with God (be that Chuck or understanding man as the true god), hell is the absence of God. Life is the time we know in our bodies on earth, Death is the absence of that. These are non-things humans take as dualities: but again, Absence. Just like the soul as the true good: “What Jack did isn’t evil, it was the absence of good.” We do not take “Has a Soul” and “Soulless” as true dualities.

If you read the corpus hermeticum, you can actually read about the art of man becoming Deathless--and will recognize some of the base dialogue/concept of Jack talking to the subconscious serpent in the garden (eg, who art thou), but the simple point is, it takes thinking outside of the box of life (and life, in SPN, is literally illustrated as Chuck’s playground) to understand the limitlessness of Death. Life is just a small box in which we adventure, but everything beyond that is technically in “Death.” Death is an infinite vessel, because Death is all the things Life is not in its limited definitions.

For example, technically the Shadow exists within Death, despite being in the Empty. Why? Because it is not in Life. It births the soul into the idea of Life, but itself exists outside of Life. Ergo, the shadow exists in death, an infinite vessel. This can be hard to wrap around when there’s avatars, but I mean, like Amara: Amara is The Darkness. Ok. It’s nighttime. The sun has gone down so it isn’t putting out light (beyond what the moon reflects (teehee [x] )or unnatural lights provide.) In your home, turn off all your lights. Is the darkness something that exists, or is it something that just doesn’t exist (light) in that space?

These are the kind of embodied elements they are having run around on our screen right now. Death is everything Chuck’s world is not. Which is also why it tries to be what escorts you into the mental realms once your time in Chuck’s world passes. Once the reaper comes and your clock stops ticking in Chuck’s Swiss Watch. It is your Absence in the sandbox of Life, and something Life Itself was built on top of. To put it simply, Death is the shadow of the world if you will.

With regards to those different places: Heaven = humans with pure souls after death Hell = humans with twisted souls after death Purgatory = monsters (soulless or not?) after death The Empty = Angels/\demons +no souls)after death? That's the long and short of it, yes. Though I think ultimately the point will be disbanding most of these in the end.

So if Cas has a soul why did he go to the Empty? But Jack when he died first time round didn't? Even though the Shadow thought he should have, and then when soulless Jack died he did go there? Same reason the Empty came for Jack to begin with, it considered that made of grace its' own. Even if he had a soul. Now keep in mind I also delineate the hard divide of soul and grace. They are... very different and yet not. I speak of energy in transfer often, be it AC/DC conversion or-- well, I talk of Sun (Soul) and Moon (Mind/Grace) a lot. The moon reflects the light of the sun, the sun is the true light but the moon is a necessary part to maintain life on earth. Now at some point we may propose that there was a conversion (eg, Sacrifice, "When you die and your soul comes to heaven"), but in the back and forth that is Castiel, he's been riding a very fine line about what is what. The Mind, or in our case Grace, is still born FROM light of the souls in creation that it reflects, but at some point Castiel did end up in a very unique condition. Consider it a form of proto-soul, a shadow--*drumroll* that has not had a chance to take its complete journey yet, one that while Metatron spoke he would have, could not yet dream or experience the same way, and still ends up under the weight of the Mind or Grace that was his original form. This is a different construct than, say, being an actual Nephilim as a mixture of the two or embodiment of the Occultum. I will play a game though. If Castiel, hmmmm. I don't know. I'll play fun. Let's sayyyy the Empty comes for Cas in 15.18 like we're all talking about. And thennnnn somewhere amidst Dean taking a hit for Cas (as it looks like will happen) Castiel GATHERS THOSE LAST SPARKS OF GRACE and LOBS IT ALL INTO THE SHADOW to protect Dean, right? That grace is still really only valid within the universe, but with the Shadow entering the universe and soaking it, if the Shadow is the progenator of the human soul, what do you think happens at this point? After all, the soul dreams the world, and births the mind and the body (of self and the universe both), right? So Cas just threw his entire mind, in this TOTALLY PRESUMPTUOUS AND MADE UP idea, into the proto-soul-- what do we imagine happens at this point? And because I'm TOTES MCGOATS being TOTALLY HYPOTHETICAL here, I'm just pitching that as a far more... hm, violently visual version of a more subdermal kind of transit going back and forth over the course of our show here. The Mind never truly ceases to exist, even if the power it manifests is only as valuable as the world it is thought of in. On the other hand, the soul is beyond that even still, and can go in and out past these walls, maintaining its form. But a Lesser Mind does not itself have place within the group mind made by Higher Being like souls, ergo, yeeted out into the empty where it floats like a lost part. Does that clarify the idea at all?

Did Cas have a soul before Dean? No. Even in season 6 he confirmed he had no soul. The quote about him receiving a soul happens at the end of season 8, in episode Sacrifice.

If so is this the crack is his chassis which has ultimately caused him to be reset time and again? Unclear what causes that. Maybe Naomi was just being a bitch, IDK.

If he didn't, and it is the Profound Bond that has caused his soul what is the crack in his chassis? Because it seems clear he has never been like other Angels. The Profound Bond at least deeply antagonized any rebelliousness he may have had. It's something Ishim talked about--why they're supposed to stay away from humans. Not because angels are a danger to them, but because humans are a danger to angels, and if you check out the Soul Meta I recently reblogged I have some verrrry long hypothesis about this. (x)

Did Chuck give the orders to reset him, and did Angels other than Naomi know this was happening? Chuck was absent from the world for thousands of years, and I highly doubt the same guy that forgets Cas is around on the daily left a specific aeon-long order list to do X things to Y random angel. We all love Cas on a story front but in the cosmic scale he's just one of a bazillion rando footsoldiers from the heavenly perspective. Naomi seemed more than well aware though since she was partaking in it. Angels were just doing their best to follow daddy's draft notes before he "went out for a pack of smokes and never came back." (season 11)

I can't remember which post I was reading earlier today, but you will know because it was recent, or at least reblogged by you recently: So Cas as the Empress - who feeds young from her own heart - Jack has been eating Grigori hearts - will Cas' be the last one for Jack to be able to "kill" God - which ultimately sends Cas to the Empty - Cas returning in the finale is them defeating the Empty/Death (God is already defeated) and Cas relinquishing his Grace so he is left with just a Soul and can then reside in Heaven after his death? That last chunk was just word vomit after reading the Empress feeds young from her own heart and my brain just wouldn't shut up. Basically, yes, but I bet you dollars to donuts they are gonna make us shit bricks about it between here and there. Be it say, my totally presumed idea above, or even somewhere during the reclamation attempt in the Empty seeming to disappear--IE, the way the fandom lost their SHIT about Rowena following a similar goddess path before HELLO BOYS!! MY SOUL WENT TO HELL BIG SURPRISE!!! -- everyone just spent a few episodes going bananas along the way and then, PLOT TWIST!!!

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #pagan life #souls #death #amaah #grace #chuck #angels #heaven #hell #purgatory #the empty #absence

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autumnstwilight · 5 years

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Dawn of the Future (Ardyn)- Initial Thoughts

Okay, so I got my copy of the Dawn of the Future novel today and I managed to get through Ardyn’s section (up to about page 100). I might write a better summary later but here are some thoughts (spoilers under read more):

-Okay so it basically is the same story as the Prologue anime and Episode itself (with a couple of differences I’ll get to in a minute), but more fleshed out and explained. -Somnus in particular has a better characterization, with an argument between him and Ardyn being included, and he actually makes some reasonable points. -That being, the Starscourge is spreading way, way faster than Ardyn can heal it and Ardyn is refusing to acknowledge that reality, refusing to say anything other than idealistic words about the infected, including the actual daemons that are attacking people, just being “sick” and “innocents” and that “even saving one more person” is worth it. -Somnus believes that what Ardyn is doing is essentially choosing who lives and dies, ignoring the reality of what happened to the many people who succumbed to the Scourge while he was off healing that “even one more person”. He thinks that someone who was chosen and blessed like Ardyn doesn’t think of the unchosen. He also thinks that Ardyn’s refusal to see things that he doesn’t want to is... not a good trait for a king to have. -(He’s still a dick who is motivated by jealousy and and sends soldiers after Ardyn, deceives and kills Aera, then erases Ardyn from history, but now he’s a nuanced dick.) -Ardyn muses that his gift from the Gods is a body that can absorb the Scourge and withstand much higher levels of infection than a regular person, but that he has no way of getting rid of the Scourge he’s absorbed and it’s gradually taking a toll. It takes until after he’s chained up in Angelgard to admit to himself that he would have eventually become a mindless daemon if he’d kept doing it. -There’s also a bit where he’s comforting himself in Angelgard by imagining Aera and wondering what would have happened if they’d run away together, then realizes it’s been hundreds of years and he’s immortal and he would have watched her die by now anyway. (FEELS). -He’s entirely aware that “Aera” and “Somnus” are creations of his own mind, and is thus utterly furious that Somnus keeps popping into his head no matter how hard he tries not to think about him. Also he realizes that everything horrible thing “Somnus” says is something that his own brain came up with. -He doesn’t seem to need to eat, etc, so the main torture of Angelgard is the insanity-inducing boredom (which is bad, but less horrific than most ppl’s headcanons, I think). The narration states at one point that there are no windows, which is interesting because I thought someone posted Ansel screencaps showing that there was one. -He’s just so done with everything when Verstael breaks him out. Also so confused. After seven months, he knows what the intercom is but is still uncomfortable with boxes speaking to him. Doesn’t like modern clothes. Apparently he focuses on the bread because it’s the only thing on the table that looks like “food” to him (but he doesn’t actually need or want to eat). -He finds the experiments and questions annoying and even thinks at one point that at least in Angelgard no one was bothering him. (if anyone finds that tweet where Ardyn’s reaction to meeting Verstael is “put me back” congratulate them for being right). -Though he has a lot of suppressed rage and hatred, he keeps telling himself there’s no point in revenge since Somnus is long dead. He does actually resent Lucis but thinks it’s none of Verstael’s goddamn business, basically. -He learns the Astral language from Ifrit’s memories (which is why he can understand Ifrit’s dialogue after the fight). He also gets further, hazier memories from the Crystal, which acts as a conduit for the sleeping gods to observe the world. Through this, he is able to see Aera’s vision of him as Chosen King. -He knows the Lucian soldiers are not literally Somnus, but he can’t stop seeing and hearing them as Somnus and flies into a blind rage. Through a combination of seeing the real prophecy, Verstael egging him on, and coming to see all Lucians as Somnus’ blood, Somnus’ children, he finally snaps and goes for revenge. -The attack on Insomnia doesn’t have anything particularly notable compared to the in-game version, but it does make it explicit that he was disguised the whole time. Also he knows his way around the city and recognizes important people (eg. Regis) from the memories of soldiers he’s eaten. No mention of hats in the book :C -Even Ardyn is not sure exactly what happened, but the book seems to imply the Gods chose him, but the Crystal, not having a mind of its own, reflexively hurled him away because of the Scourge in his body. -Then again given Bahamut’s speech at the end, it could be argued that the Gods “chose him as king” precisely because they knew that would happen- they needed a resentful Accursed to become the embodiment of the Starscourge and fight the Chosen King. -Which brings me to the biggest [RECORD SCRATCH] moment for me... in the book, during the scene with Bahamut, it’s revealed that Ardyn isn’t immortal because of the Scourge. He’s immortal because when he touched the Crystal it absorbed his soul into the 対のなす世界... “the beyond”, “the other side”... a realm connected to Eos by the Crystal that cannot be entered in physical form. Anyway, it’s the place where Noctis goes at the end of the game to annihilate Ardyn’s soul, which has apparently been there since he touched the Crystal 2,000 years ago. What. What. -(that seems like an unnecessary complication of the lore here and I’m not sure what it achieves but I’ll try to reserve final judgement until I read the rest of the book). -Also everything during the conversation with Bahamut is effectively an illusion created by Bahamut, which he uses to cause Ardyn more physical pain than it’s actually possible to feel (while fake!Aera stabs him). Bahamut is definitely being set up as a villain here. -(I forget since I only played Episode Ardyn once, but did he say he was going to kill the Gods in that? Cause he says it here, after saying he’s going to kill Noctis etc.) -Anyway, then we have a recap of the timeline between then and the final battle, up to the door of the throne room opening and Ardyn saying, “I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” only to find that it isn’t Noctis entering the room at all, but Lunafreya. (Anyway, for Ardyn’s story I’ll say I really enjoyed the fleshing out of Somnus, and Ardyn’s introspection and thoughts/elaboration about the gods, starscourge, etc. The fight in Insomnia dragged a bit, and I’m not very pleased with a definitely-evil Bahamut because of the implications that has for the original ending... but the idea of Luna coming back to life and marching into the WoR throne room is pretty badass)

#ffxv #ffxv dotf #dotf spoilers #dawn of the future spoilers #dawn of the future #episode ardyn spoilers

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mainly-kpop · 5 years

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Viagra Series

Namjoon ft Yoongi

Word count: 1768

Warnings: smut obviously, pill taking, daddy kink, sharing, phone sex?

Waking up abruptly to have something to eat seems like an easy enough task. Unless you're namjoon, who is trying to keep every ounce of sleep he has left in his body. If only he had picked the correct cupboard.

He rolled out of bed early that morning, or late that night, he didn’t want to know. All he knew is he should be asleep right now, the soft snores to his left solidifying the idea in his head. If his brain could connect with his stomach for once in it’s life, maybe he wouldn’t wake up at god knows what time for fucking snacks.

He trudged himself to the kitchen, pulling open the cupboard. Picking out a random box he opened it up feeling it before shrugging. Realistically he should just open his eyes, look at what the hell he had in his hands before throwing it into his mouth. However, he was aware M&Ms had new packaging, so who was he to question snack wrappers these days? Popping one into his mouth he crunched down, grimacing at the taste. Not M&Ms, definitely not. He poured a glass of water, chugging it to rid the taste, that almost tasted like-.

‘Joonie, what are you doing in the medicine cabinet?’ She questioned tiredly, rubbing her eyes, god she was so adorable. Wait medicine cabinet?! He opened his eyes fully, looking at the packet in question. No, oh dear lord, no.

‘I thought it tasted a bit strange. Zoinks scoob, that’s problematic.’ She frowned confused, what the ever loving god?

‘Zoinks scoob? Problematic? Are you high? What did you take?’ She walked over to the counter, looking at the packet, the writing in full white block letters. She snickered looking at the man beside her, blush over his cheeks. She looked down at his pants, seeing the growing bulge.

‘Huh, it really is fast acting look at that.’ She spoke impressed, the more you know.

‘Oh baby, looks like we are in for a long night.’ He growled, picking her up from her waist carrying her back to bed, she squealed smacking his hands so he would put her down.

‘Joonie! It’s early morning, you can’t do this I have plans today! With viagra in your system, I’ll never make it!’ He stood still for a moment, grip not easing on her, she puffed out air crossing her arms.

‘Then cancel your plans, it’s gonna be a good morning.’ He spoke smugly, running the rest of the way to their bedroom, god save the neighbor’s.

She couldn’t believe he was doing this, it’s 5 A.M for god sake! He wiggled off her PJ bottoms before wiggling his trousers off also.

‘Wow, wow, wow, you aren’t just going straight in right?’ She stopped him, hand pressed to his chest. He put his hand over his heart, a hurt hiss slipping through his teeth.

‘What do you think I am? An animal?!’ She rolled her eyes, a sigh coming out her mouth. He slipped down to his knees, bringing her body closer to the edge of the bed. Stroking his hands up and down her thighs, he spread them apart effortlessly, the cold air hitting her core. She wasn’t all that aroused before, she had only just opened her eyes for god sake. However, now with him between her legs, eyes animalistic and full of want. She could feel herself getting wet, her little bud getting hard, a soft whimper struggling to be held back.

‘Baby, look at the state of you, and I’ll I did was get on my knees. Such a little whore for me.’ He growled, trailing his middle finger through the wetness that already pooled between her legs.

‘I’ll always be your little whore daddy, tease me like the bad girl I am.’ He was taken back for a minute, she never behaved like this, asking to be punished. To be honest, it was a new side of her he could get used to.

‘You want to be punished huh? Tell me all the naughty things you’ve done baby, make it worth my while.’ He whispered, a lustful rumble to his words. His finger dipping inside her every so often, then pulling out like it never happened.

‘I’ve been such a naughty whore daddy. I touched myself yesterday, I didn’t even send you a video. I thought of you, your name slipping from my lips as I came, but I didn’t want you to see it. It was for me.’ She teased him, his jaw clenching at this fact. He loved knowing she was getting herself off, whether he knew about it before, during or after. He loved knowing her fingers were deep inside herself, vibrator pressed to her clit.

‘What did you do baby, show daddy.’ She whimpered as he pulled his hand away, slowly replacing it with her own. It wasn’t unusual for Namjoon to request she pleasure herself, he loved watching her fall apart whether it was his doing or not. That was probably why he was happy with threesome, no matter the participant. Sometimes he would sit off to the side, watch her get fucked by one of his friends. The noises that spilled from her mouth. None of this phased him because he knew, no matter what she would always need him. Need his dick, his words, his fingers, mouth, everything about him drove her wild and he knew this. No matter how good his friends were. He was better.

He watched her slip her fingers gently inside of herself, moving them around until her back arched, finding the spot inside herself.

‘What else baby, how else have you been a naughty girl?’ He questioned, she whimpered, suppressing it by biting down on her lip.

‘I was thinking about Yoongi again yesterday, god his dick was so good. Daddy, I got wet thinking about him, I want him again so bad.’ She whimpered, feeling like she was pushing herself over the edge. Before she could reach her climax, Namjoon pulled her fingers out of her, dark eyes focused on her.

‘That is naughty, very naughty. Those thoughts are not something daddy likes to hear.’ He spoke stretching his neck standing over her body. He held out his hand, pulling her to her feet, bodies flushed together.

‘On your knees princess, show me how sorry you are.’ She dropped to her knees quickly, and obediently. He smirked, the control he had over her making his dick twitch. She wrapped her lips instantly around the tip, knowing teasing him was only going to get her more punishments. He groaned, the feeling of her warm lips wrapped delicately around his dick. His head rolling back as he wrapped a hand around her hair, pushing her further and further down. She gagged lightly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, but he just praised her.

‘I’m going to start now baby, if it gets too much show me what you’re going to do.’ He commanded. She responded by tapping his thigh two times before he smiled, praising her again. He pulled himself out her mouth, head resting on the tip of her tongue. Relaxing her throat and letting her jaw go slack, she sucked in a deep breath readying herself for what was to come. Slowly he eased himself back in, tip hitting the back of her throat, she swallowed around him puppy dog eyes locked with his. He began thrusting shallowly into her throat, pulling out the littlest bit before shoving straight into her throat. Drool dripped down her chin, trailing down her throat, soaking the little shirt she had on. Namjoon growled, feeling himself getting close. The look on her face, the tears falling from her eyes. The drool dripping down her chin, landing on the shirt making her hard nipples even more visible. Pulling himself out of her mouth, she gasped for air, sucking in whatever she could. He got on his knees cradling her face in his hands, wiping the drool from her chin.

‘So good baby, you did so well. On the bed, daddy isn’t done with you yet.’ As she crawled up the bed, he grabbed his phone punching in his pin and searching something.

‘Daddy what are you doing?’ She whispered, already having a slight incline to what he was doing. The phone rang on speaker for a moment before she heard a voice through the device.

‘Do you know what the fucking time is?!’ He screamed through the mic, causing Namjoon to lightly laugh. He crawled over the bed, putting the phone down beside her head.

‘You’re going to wanna be up for this Yoongi. Baby? On all fours, why don’t you tell him how much you miss him while I fuck you raw.’ She wasted no time, crawling onto her knees, putting herself face down on the pillow. He slid himself in with ease, stopping momentarily as she moaned right into the phone. Yoongi letting a string of curse words filter through the device, she whimpered in embarrassment and arousal. Knowing he could hear her, what she had to say to him, it was so hot.

‘Yoongi, I’m such a naughty girl. I miss your dick so much I- FUCK.’ She screamed, Namjoon slamming into her hard, over and over. Words failing her both the boys egged her on, wanting to hear more.

‘Keep going baby, tell him what you want.’ Namjoon said, breathing heavy. Yoongi joining in next, begging her for more.

‘Come on princess, keep going, I’m so close.’ He moaned, the clear evidence of him getting himself off. She whimpered, feeling herself hurdling past the point of no return. Feeling Namjoon’s hips stuttering, hearing Yoongi’s moans turn to whimpers.

‘Yoongi I want you to fuck me while daddy watches, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember anything but your name. FUCK, Yoongi, daddy, please.’ She sobbed, body collapsing onto the bed, the power of her orgasm making her knees and arms weak. A breathy yet deep moan sounded through the phone, a sure sign that he came at the same time. Namjoon followed closely behind, fingertips digging into the swell of her ass.

‘Anyway…’ Namjoon spoke after everyone gathered their breath back. ‘I’m sure we can arrange something soon, right Yoongi?’ He questioned, leaving butterfly kisses along her back and shoulder.

‘For you two? I’m free whenever you want me.’ He whispered, leaving a tired and excited smile on her face. As the phone call ends, she hangs it up giggling.

‘Such a naughty girl, bet that made you want round two, no?’ He questioned, pouncing on her, she squealed in shock.

‘SHUT THE FUCK UP IT’S SIX AM YOU PIGS!!’ Came a scream and a thump from next door, they both looked at each other in horror, giggling embarrassed.

#bts #bangtan #bts one shot #requests open #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts reactions #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years

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Tutor’s Pet - Part 5 LE FINALE

Hiya friends! I thought I would finish this off for Pride Month this June!! I’m pretty fkn exhausted because I haven’t been sleeping so I very much hope that this is ok and makes sense lelel anyways, enjoy!

You can find Parts 1-4 on my blog :)

Part 5 - Lily x Reader

Y/N pretended to be asleep as she heard people muttering around her.

“Has she remembered anything yet?”

“No, I don’t think so”

“Who would do this?”

There was a pause, where Y/N heard Sirius bark a laugh.

“You really don’t know who would do this? To a Black who refuses to act like one?” Sirius growled darkly, gripping stronger onto Y/N’s hand.

“Right… sorry” Louisa’s voice faltered slightly, clearly feeling like she overstepped. There was another pause, the only noise coming from Madame Pomfrey potting around the room and checking on her other two patients.

“Surely we can get her out of here by now, it’s been aaaaggeees”

“It’s been 3 days”

“My point exactly”

“Madame Pomfrey said we can take her out for lunch today” Lily’s voice finally chimed in, to Y/N’s right, and Y/N felt her chest flush at the idea of her sitting right beside her.

“And you waiting until NOW to tell us? We could have gone off to lunch at any minute!”

“It’s called suspense” Y/N could hear a smirk in Lily’s voice and fought the urge to laugh with her.

“Well we have to get her up then, she won’t want to miss lunch”

“You just don’t want to be late for any treacle tart”

“Excuse me, I want to make sure my sister gets a hearty meal”

“It’s ok, I’m awake, I’m awake” Y/N opened her eyes, grinning widely, “And Sirius, you know I’m going to finish any treacle tart on the table before you even get there”

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” James grinned back at her, whilst Remus rolled his eyes.

“She never died”

“Let me use the English language however I please, Remus”

“You feeling ok?” Lily looked down at her, ignoring the two boys bickering, very concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Sick of being in this bed more than anything else.”

“I can imagine” She smiled, rubbing small circles into Y/N’s palm. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back at her turning towards the rest of the group who were still chatting away, except Louisa. She was watching them closely, head cocked to one side, before catching Y/N’s eye and raising an eyebrow.

Before Y/N could say anything, Madame Pomfrey pushed through the group surrounding her bed.

“Ok, I know I said you could take her for lunch, but I need to clean up her dressings and I need everybody out, she will meet you all there.”

“But I’m family!” Sirius protested, standing up and crossing his arms over in an attempt to look stern.

“So are we, sort of!” James followed suit but stood back at Madame Pomfrey’s glare.

“Family may stay if Y/N is ok with it, everyone else out.”

Y/N nodded at Sirius to stay and the rest of them were bustled out of the room, all calling back to say where they will meet for lunch later.

Sirius sat back down, pulling his chair closer in towards Y/N as Madame Pomfrey began taking off some of the bandages and checking her wounds had closed up. Sirius said nothing, just watched patiently, clearly wanting to know as well that she had begun to heal.

Madame Pomfrey paused for a moment once she reached Y/N’s arm, looking over at Y/N for confirmation that it was ok to open this in Sirius’ presence. She nodded again to her, suddenly feeling nervous. Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What? Is everything ok? Has something not healed?”

“No, there was just a particular wound left on Miss Y/L/N’s arm. It will leave a scar”

“Ok…” Sirius continued to look more confused but watched silently as Madame Pomfrey undid the bandage on Y/N’s arm. Y/N couldn’t help but wince when she saw it again, eyeing Sirius’ reaction as he saw it too.

He was silent. Staring at the words now engraved across her bicep as Madame Pomfrey cleaned it up. It had faded into a white scar now, the remnants of blood and scabbing had come clean off.

“Are you ok?” Y/N finally asked him, his face paling by the second.

“I should be asking you that” He said very quietly, his eyes darkening, “Who… did this to you?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know, I don’t remember.”

“Don’t be sorry” Sirius looked up at her, now surprised, “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

Y/N squirmed uncomfortably, not looking at his grey eyes. She knew it wasn’t her fault. Sort of. There was just something inside her, knocking around in her brain that kept telling her she was tempting fate, that she had been lucky for too long.

“You never have to apologise for who you are, no matter how many people make you feel like you do. I mean that, never.” Sirius gripped onto Y/N’s hand very tightly, “I will keep telling you that until you believe me, ok?”

“Ok” Y/N smiled up at him.

“Is she ok to get some lunch with us then?” Sirius turned back to Madame Pomfrey who was re-wrapping her arm.

“She certainly can, but I expect her back here at 1pm sharp for a check-up. Are we clear?”

“Crystal” Sirius grinned, “Come one lazy bones, get out of bed so we can feed you.”

Y/N felt stiff, her legs having gotten used to lying in bed over the past few days, and so they moved slowly through the halls, avoiding the rush of students all heading towards the Great Hall.

Noise began to build up the closer they got, until a buzz of chatter surrounded them, the entrance to the Great Hall completely blocked. Sirius grabbed Y/N’s hand and pushed through carefully, moving towards what looked like the centre of the group. Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that Sirius knew who was there and what was happening to cause all the commotion.

“Say that again” James growled loudly, pointing his wand directly towards the throat of Lucius Malfoy. He merely laughed at him.

“Defending your little mudblood friends, are we? Very honourable for a blood traitor” He drawled, staring back at James, eyes daring him to move, to hex, “What are you going to do huh? Hang me upside down? That will definitely teach me a lesson”

The group behind him guffawed menacingly, egging Lucius on. Sirius and Y/N pulled through the last of the crowd and stood behind James, who had clearly stepped in front of Lily and Remus to get to Lucius. Lucius’ eyes followed Sirius and landed on Y/N’s. His mouth drew into a smile.

“Oh how lovely, the baby Black has decided to join us! Feeling ok after your little scare? We wouldn’t want you ending back there anytime soon” His eyes flashed at her, grinning darkly.

“It was you, in the courtyard” Y/N said slowly, mostly to herself, flushing when she heard the crowd in front of her laughing.

“Oh no, we would never hurt a Black” Lucius pulled Regulus forward from the crowd, now facing Sirius and Y/N, “But I guess these two aren’t Blacks anymore are they?”

Regulus was silent for a moment, looking over Y/N’s bandaged arm and torso. Lucius glared at him.

“No” He finally said, “I am an only child”

“That’s what I thought”

Lucius stepped forward towards Y/N, and before James and Sirius could step to meet him, Lily had pushed through the crowd and stuck her wand into the edge of his neck.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miss Head Girl” Lucius continued to smile, but there was an edge to his voice.

“You have no idea what I would do” Lily growled, “If you lay a hand on her or anyone else again”

“He’s not worth it” Remus placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder, calming her slightly. She pulled her wand away and turned away from him.

“I’d love to see how our handiwork turned out; won’t you give us a show Y/N?” His eyes stared her down as Lily walked towards her.

“Ignore him”

But, out of the corner of her eye she saw a boy with greasy black hair flick his wand silently. She watched in horror as her bandage around her arm unravelled quickly, revealing the large scar printed on her arm.

Lily stopped dead, staring at it. Her eyes flashed, Y/N could feel the anger growing inside her. Lily turned around so quickly her hair almost whipped the group behind her, she stormed up to Lucius Malfoy and punched him square in the nose with every bit of force she had in her body.

“Got to have your pretty girlfriend protect you huh?” Snape scowled at Y/N, stepping forward to defend himself. Before anyone had the chance, Remus had flicked his wand and covered the group in a bondage of ropes.

“Yes” Y/N finally spoke up, pushing through Sirius’ hold on her, “My girlfriend will destroy you any day of the week. Don’t fucking cross us again.”

The hall was silent as Y/N grabbed Lily’s hand.

“Hope that was an ok way to reveal that we are dating”

“Honestly, better than I could have ever hoped” She grinned back at her, gripping tightly back onto her hand.

“Would you like to go to lunch with me?”

“It’s a date.”

Lily grabbed the back of Y/N’s head and pulled her into a kiss, soft and slow, that melted away every other person surrounding them.

They turned around, moving towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Eyes followed them down the table, still watching as they sat down and began piling their plates, but for the first time Y/N didn’t care. It didn’t matter what happened, because they could face it together.

Taglist: @maraudersandco @northscorpio @seesaw-it @lustfulcry @depressedcoffeebean @supercuteasalily @palaisdecouture @blackpinkdolan @fashionlive15 @creepysweet

#lily evans x reader #lily evans x you #lily evans imagine #lily evans fanfiction #Lily Evans #Sirius Black #Marauders #rainandhotchocolate

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cheersrogrs · 5 years

Text

ENDGAME SPOILERS

i don't normally do this but i just had to get this off my chest. this is for everyone that that is hating on endgame and specifically Cap’s ending. full disclaimer: i am not a comic reader (more of a wiki reader tbh) but i am a devoted Cap fan (esp MCU’S cap) and i have been for a very long time; i am also a hardcore bucky barnes fan, and a stucky fan.

first off lets establish the technical aspect of the time travel - to me, OG Cap went back, successfully returning all the infinity stones to their original places. this corrects all the “divergent timelines”. however, when he chose to stay with peggy, OG CAP = OLD CAP and cap who is still frozen in the 1970s remains frozen until 2012, who then goes to do all the heroic stuff that he did. OG/OLD Cap then returns back to the main MCU timeline where his gives Sam the shield.

i repeat, I as a steve, bucky and a stucky fan, am so pleased with his ending. because 1) he chose this for himself, 2) he just wanted to see what he would have had if he did not throw his life away for his country, 3) just because of that look on his face, dancing with peggy, sold this send off to me.

it may not have happened on screen, but i am positive that steve and bucky discussed about this. evidence was that bucky was telling him that he would miss him eventho, to the rest, steve was supposed to be gone for just 5 seconds. and he wasn't even shock when steve wasn't on the platform.

and bucky; who LOVES steve, do you think that bucky would honestly deny steve that one chance of happiness that he craved for all his life?

NO. because he knows how much steve has given up. he knows how isolated and alone steve feels. he knows the biggest regret steve has (that he can amend) is to go back to the past and have that dance with peggy. yes i know that he created a new family for himself here (but him going back doesn't not erase this. he doesn’t mysteriously loses his memories and he also doesn't mysteriously disappears from everyone else’s memory so he gets the best of both worlds) and i am sure bucky would be so selfless to say “no, dont save me”. because he, at this current point of time, is already saved. its in the past. technically steve can’t change present bucky’s condition BECAUSE IT WOULD HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED. if he did change things with hydra and saved bucky, that would have created another timeline. our OG bucky doesn’t get a do-over. but he has a chance now to start a new life, with his new friends (sam, wanda, the rest of the avengers). he is finally stable.

what is he going to do, if he went back with steve? in a MCU point of view: basically nothing?? because again, if he went back to stop hydra - that would only stop the torture of THAT bucky, not OUR bucky. in a stucky point of view: watch the man he loves, love someone else??

steve and bucky dépend on each other. they are each other’s life line and family. yes. but i don’t want to see them be co-dependent. i see “till the end of the line” as not to be a promise of till death do us apart; it means that i will be there for you whenever you need me to be. steve saved bucky; steve WAS there for bucky when he needed him to be. Bucky gave steve love when no one else loved him, gave him support, gave him the motivation to fight for what was right. to anyone that says that steve broke this promise, please rethink this. bucky would have wanted steve to be happy and for that to happen, steve needed to at least try. bucky, considering the state that he was in BP, IW, EG, seemed to be recovering. let him recover on his own terms. let him be strong again as BUCKY BARNES. Let him create a new life for himself; one that he chose for himself. not the life his country gave him, not the life that his torturers gave him, and not the life that he needed to have so as to not worry steve. they both needed to move on by themselves.

and the other thing was “peggy’s whole life was erased” IF my time travel theory was true, then that would not have been the case. but if we take away all the complications with the time travel, why would steve going back destroy peggy’s character development? im sure if peggy was as strong as we all know she is, she wouldn't let a man stop her from doing what she loves. she would still be a strong woman. she would still be a founder of shield. the fact that some of you think she would stop her life for steve is completely ironic. she didnt become a founder of shield and the badass woman she was just cause she lost steve. she did it because she could, with or without steve. she has done it without steve once, and now she gets to do it with steve by her side.

and i see arguments that oh steve only knew peggy for months, what was so significant about their relationship that he threw his whole life away or abandoned all his friends?. it wasn't that she was the love of his life. but she was the definition of the “what ifs” in his life. the man just wanted to try. he already lead his life as skinny, defenseless steve, he has already lead a long and tiring life of cap - the first avenger or the fugitive. now he just wants to see if steve rogers - husband, father, human was possible. and i can guarantee that if peggy or steve did not feel the same away as they did during the war, neither one would have forced the relationship. but they did. DID YOU NOT SEE THEIR FACES DURING THEIR DANCE???? AND THAT KISS? THAT WAS PURE LOVE.

if you knew and understood (MCU) bucky, you would know that bucky would have been so proud of steve. And i am so proud of him.

if steve have stayed, yes we would all get more bucky-steve moments, they would be together (almost) forever, but steve would never have stayed down if he did, and guess what, bucky would have followed him. and i personally think that is the last thing that bucky wants.

i personally believed that bucky was his soulmate in life. but that doesn't mean that steve loved bucky the way we want him to (at least in the mcu). to have someone that you call home, does not necessarily mean that that person is the one that you want to love romantically, marry and spend your whole lives together. but peggy. peggy is steve’s light. peggy is his heart. again, this does not cancel his love for bucky. it’s just different. a lot of people say that the reason why steve is the way he is today (his decisions, his plots in the movies) is because of bucky. i 100% agree but i think a lot of people forget that peggy was also an important person in his life. in CA: TFA, it was bucky that made him step up as cap america, but peggy was also there cheering him on and never losing faith in him. she was also the 2nd person (that we know of) to see steve as he really is even when he was little steve. in CA: CW: it was peggy’s words (through sharon’s speech) that made him take his stand. so to say that bucky was the only sole driver of steve’s actions would be completely false. they both loved him so much.

also, on anyone shitting on steve’s decision on falcon-cap. screw you. yes, falcon isn't a super soldier, doesn't have extra powers and super strength, but he is a good man. he is kind, he is helpful and he is loyal. and that is what makes captain america, captain america. funny how some of you have the quote “not a perfect soldier, but a good man” tattooed across your hearts and brains but somehow it doesn't apply when bucky isn't the one carrying the mantle. and bucky would have hated carrying the shield. fight me.

bucky looked so happy knowing that steve lived his life. now he has the chance of living his own life, without worrying about steve. shouldn't that make you happy, as a fan?

so, no i dont think the ending that we got, erased all of steve’s character development. this was all heart, pure cap. he knows that all is good in his world. he knows that the people he loves are okay and will be okay. he is no longer needed. it was time for him to pass the torch to someone else. it is now his time to rest.

I’m sorry if i dont make sense, this is all over the place. i dont write my feelings out very well. i am sure that i have a millions more things to say but alas.

when all is said and done, thank you chris evans for being the best cap that i could ask for.

#endgame spoiler #captain america #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #avengers endgame #steggy #peggy carter

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shes-claws-deep · 5 years

Text

Fuze - Mr Bear

Thank you for your commission @baysian-yin! I hope you enjoy this 1500 word fic of Fuze being jealous and comforted~

Want to read more R6S fics? Over here!

While Shuhrat has never been the most emotional or approachable of men, he's never quite been like this with you before.

"Shuhrat, there you are!" You huff and come to a stop beside him. "I've been looking for you!"

"Why bother?" He grumps and turns away, choosing a random direction to walk in. "Anyway, I'm kind of busy."

Raising your brow, you keep up with him and trot alongside his long strides. "You're busy? But you told me at breakfast that you're free this afternoon." Plus, it rather looks like Shuhrat is heading towards the mess hall. Which is completely empty since it's an hour after lunch. "The mess hall is closed for cleaning, by the way."

Shuhrat stops in his tracks, spins around, and continues walking the way he came. "Well, I'm not."

Getting a little aggravated by his sudden cold shoulder, you square up your shoulders and dart in front of him to make him stop. "Okay, you're not normally this pissy. So spit it out, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Shuhrat grunts and edges around you, only to be stopped when you step in his way again. "Nothing's wrong, okay? I just have to go."

"Shuhrat Kessikbayev." The mention of his full name in that tone, that same tone he only hears when he's been very, very naughty, makes him freeze up in terror. And arousal. But mostly terror, especially when he sees you shoot that icy glare at him. "Don't be rude."

Grumbling, he ducks his head and apologises begrudgingly. Yet he remains resolute when you ask him for the reason behind his sudden attitude. Round and round in circles he goes, dodging you and edging around you until he makes it to the barracks where you finally stop him and shoot him those sad eyes that he hates to see. He knows what's going to come out of your mouth before you do, sighing and pulling you into his room.

"Don't give me that look. It's not you, okay?" Shuhrat grabs your shoulders and pulls you to him, hugging you and propping his chin up on your head. "There. Now don't be so upset."

Melting into his embrace, you smile and hug him back, winding your arms around his broad form. You always forget how hot he runs until he squishes you close like this, making you all drowsy and comfortable until you almost forget why he's hugging you in the first place. Pulling away, you look up at him and slide your hands around his neck. "Don't distract me! So are you going to tell me why you're jealous or not?"

Jealous? JEALOUS? What? Shuhrat sputters and denies it immediately. "What? What are you talking about? I'm not jealous?" He's definitely not jealous that you called the hostage Mr Bear during the exercise. He's not jealous that you called someone else his favourite pet name and he's definitely not jealous because you cooed over the stupid mascot rather than go to him straight after the mission. "I'm not. I'm not jealous. At all."

You quirk your brow at him. Right. "That's convincing," you drone dryly, poking at the faint blush on his cheeks. "Tell me."

"No." His answer comes quick and decisive.

You squint up at him. "Tell me."

Shuhrat bares his teeth at you. "I said no."

Pouting, you push him onto his bunk and weather his startled grunt and glaring eyes, using your foot on his ankle to push his knees wide open so you can stand between them. "Don't make me make you say it," you tell him with your arms held akimbo, a stern frown on your face that threatens to break into a gleeful grin. Boy, you do love it when he's bratty.

Rather than bite back, Shuhrat just grunts and looks away, ignoring the way your hands run up his thighs and chest to paw at his hefty pecs. "I'm not going to tell you," he bites out when you snake your cool hands up his shirt, tugging the fabric so it bunches around the top of his chest.

You sigh and kneel on the bed between his thighs, making sure to press hard on the growing bulge in his pants. "Alright, big boy. Challenge accepted."

"Wait, it wasn't a challenge-!" He's cut off by your lips on his, sucking and nipping at his lips and tongue until all he can taste is you. A moan is ripped out of him against his will, vibrating in your mouth and egging you on as you tease his nipples and undo his belt. "A-ah-"

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me now, baby," you murmur against his lips, breaking apart just to see a string of saliva break and fall on his chin. "I'll convince you." More kisses dot his chin, his jaw, and down his neck until you're suckling at his nipple.

Shuhrat moans and falls against the bed from where he propped himself up on his elbows, his brow furrowing when you bite down gently. The mild pain makes him groan and squirm more, his back arching and his hips dipping to press harder against your knee. By now, his bulge is obscenely big, straining against the front of his tactical pants and looking so absolutely delicious. He can tell it's drawn your attention because you detach yourself from his chest, pulling back so you can admire how his cock causes his pants to unzip itself before you can even get to it.

"Well, looks like one part of you is ready to be convinced," you quip and fish out his cock and balls, adjusting so his sack rests on his unzipped fly. Then you look up at his face while gently caressing the turgid flesh beneath your fingers. "You know, you really can just tell me. I'm doing this because it's fun, not because I really want to force it out of you."

Shuhrat gives you a face that you laugh at, though he cracks a smile afterwards and props himself up on his elbows so he can look at you working at his eager cock. "I know." He looks away shyly. "It's...fun for me too." A moment later, he looks back at you with a cute determined glint in his eyes. "I'm still not going to tell you."

You rear back and gasp, a hand to your chest. "After all my convincing? Still? Well, you're a tough one to break, aren't you?" Your pout is one for the ages as you push him further back on the bed until you can straddle his thick thighs. With your nails rasping through his thick body hair, you purr and shift yourself up to grind on his cock, taking a moment to enjoy the dazed look on his face. "Mmm, rethink it, Mr Bear," you cajole, leaning down to kiss him wetly. "Come on, Mr Bear, you can tell me, can't you?"

Shuhrat bites his lip at the pet name. That's right. It's his name. "S-say it again." Fuck, his stupid blush has got to be evident, even on his skin.

You perk up and cup his face in your hands, peppering kisses all over his face. "Mr Bear," you whisper into his lips. "You're going to be a nice Mr Bear, aren't you?" This time it's murmured breathily into his ear and Shuhrat bites back a moan. "My Mr Bear." Feeling like he's slowly caving in, you press yourself up against him fully and tangle your legs with his, for once ignoring his half-dressed state to cuddle him. "Won't my Mr Bear tell me what's wrong?"

With a blush staining his weather-worn cheeks and his teeth digging into his slick lips, Shuhrat breaks and hugs you tight, his face hiding in your neck. "You called that stupid mascot Mr Bear."

Blinking in surprise, you try to look down at him but only manage to see the top of his closely shorn head. "What?"

Muffled grumbling answers you. "During today's exercise, you called that mascot Mr Bear. You even found it-him-whatever cute." The force of his blush is evident, to the point where his skin sears yours. "And you didn't come find me afterwards."

You sigh in relief and tug him up so you can kiss him reassuringly. "Mr Bear, I had to call the mascot that because it was in the script."

...Script? Shuhrat's brain freezes for a moment before it reboots and then he groans in embarrassment. Of course, it was a script, who in their right mind could call a mascot that out of the blue?

"And I had to help her out of the costume before I came out for lunch. She can't see very well in it."

Wait, she?

At his incredulous look, you laugh and smooth away the frown on his face. "Yeah, Meghan was unlucky enough to be forced into the suit. Although I have to admit, it did look rather fun irritating the rest of you."

Okay, now he feels stupid. Although to be fair, he had no idea. At least, that's his personal justification.

You giggle at his defeated posture and hug him tight to you, wriggling over him and kissing all over his face. "Don't worry, Mr Bear, I'll make it up to you." And make it up to him you do, all evening and all night long. Good thing neither of you are on duty tomorrow, eh?

#r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege imagines #fuze #dom!reader #sub!fuze #shuhrat kessikbayev #ficlet #lime #ish #lemon #jealousy #comforting #banter

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vacationcalendar · 3 years

Text

8/15/21

Missed another day. Felt sickly, bailed on everything. God, I really hope I’m sick, in the traditional sense. I’ve unfortunately begun to invite the idea that I’ve got cancer or something, and that’s why I feel this way. So I hope I’m sick, for my sake. Because if this thing ends up being a big deal, my “wait it out until it goes away or I die” approach is gonna feel a little foolish.

It’s a couple things. It’s that sickly energy. That lethargy that feels unexpected, that 10 hours of sleep without making some big plan for that. Like, I feel like if I’m feeling gassed (I can’t think of the word I’m looking for here. Crushed? Fucked? Tuckered? no. Goosed? It might actually be goosed, even though I’m looking at it right now, and that can’t be the right word. It might just be the one I’m thinking of. Oh well) and I acquiesce to sleep real early, and then I STILL sleep til like 9:45; I take that as my body needed sleep and was using it well. Like, if I was just indulging my bored impulses to bail on life and wait for something interesting to happen, I’d find myself becoming restless at some point. I’d cap out on my sleep bucks. But since I’m not, I’m inclined to trust my instincts here. So that’s a point for “sick.”

I’ve also got some sneezing happening. And the general malaise. And instead of cramming liquids and fruit, I have instead done absolutely nothing. So these are all good signs actually. I WANT to be sick. The alternative at this point is that something is seriously wrong with me, and that would fucking suck. That’s not the Fun-employed I signed up for. The point I’m referring to that isn’t pointing directly towards sick is extremely obvious to the me writing this right now, but for posterity’s sake, allow me to describe it. It’s a certain sensitivity on my skin on only the right side of my head. Not my face, my head. It starts at the right side of my face and ends at nearly the center of the back of my head. And on the Y-axis it starts at right around the top of my ear and all the way to halfway down my neck. That sector of my body is EXTREMELY sensitive. Sensitive to the point of feeling pain like a sunburn or rug burn from seemingly any form of contact. Craning my neck around actually is enough to irritate it. You can only imagine that some of my more “intense” activities of wearing headphones and lying down on my side on a pillow are causing me the most concern right now.

Actually I just scratched the side of my head right now just to see, and it was so extreme of a sensation that I could tell my brain partially blocked it out. This is so weird. I am constantly checking every inch of the affected area for some sort of bump or abnormality, like maybe a spider bit the side of my head and this is my body’s reaction to that. I keep thinking, wow I wonder if anti-histamines would instantly solve this, and then in a week’s time it will subside. But I don’t have anti-histamines, I’ve never needed them. That circumstance has never happened to me in my life. So why would it come into play out of nowhere right now? Also, a quarter of my head? Really? I got some allergic reaction just on a 4″ by 4″ section on one side of my head? Where did that part of my head go that would have suffered some sort of rash that the rest of my body would manage to avoid? (My pillow is literally the only answer, why tf would it be my pillow?) Also, it’s not a rash. I can’t see ANYTHING different on my head. Wouldn’t a rash look at least a little different than the rest of my skin. This is so weird.

Ok, I just looked it up to confirm. It’s literally just an allergic reaction, hypersensitivity. So since I have no allergies, it’s gotta be a bug bite or something. God, this is so weird. It varies in it’s obnoxiousness to be clear. And it sounds like a benadryll would help. Maybe I’ll see if Bonnie has any. Then I can know for sure. But since it’s not getting WORSE, in either scope or intensity, I’m going to stick with my plan to fucking ignore this fucking thing.

Sorry, this is basically pointless to write about. But I realized this morning something. I’m slowly moving towards proliferation in my writing. I’m writing at such a higher volume, and comfortability, than when I started. I’m defaulting towards writing so much more easily than before, it’s great. I tell myself, I don’t want to do the blog, then I see a post about Voyboy, and I just sit down and write something to him. And that’s an idea I’ve had in the past but balked at. I saw it as writing for it’s own sake; it wouldn’t be a big deal to him or me to actually do it. But two days ago I just sat and hammered it out. And I didn’t slave over creating it. I mean, I cared about how it looked and what it said, but I never got jammed up on its creation. It just came together, and I was inclined to sit here and make it come together. I’ve crossed a clear threshold, and it feels great. And then! After I wrote it, I thought, “Ok, that’s my creative writing done for the day. Let me post that on the blog and be done.” I sat down to post it, and in my attempt to quickly preface it for clarity, I ended working through what I was feeling at the time. I ended up blogging anyway. I didn’t worry about it. I didn’t sit down and make myself get to work, like I had been doing for MANY of these posts up to this point. And I’m doing that very thing again today. This should be noted and celebrated Max. You can in fact write and you are not an impostor. Congrats!

I noticed it while I was out at breakfast, when I had an idea listening to How Did This Get Played?. I feel like I’ll often have an opinion or a curiosity occur after hearing them discuss a topic about video games, but this time I paused the podcast and pull out my notes app and started writing it out. And after a minute or so of writing, I found that I had A LOT more to write out than my initial question for the podcast. I wanted to record my thoughts and observations about something. I have evolved from listening to, I don’t know, listening+. I’m listening and taking things in and instead of silently absorbing them I’m absorbing out loud. I’m learning things in my own company and unpacking things as they come my way. This “active rumination” functions a lot like chewing in the food sense, better digestion. I’m thinking so much more by making myself explain my own thoughts out loud before I allow them to disappear back into my memory.

I honestly can’t believe I didn’t think this would be helpful for expanding my own ability to generate thoughts. I mean, I suppose I did. I assumed that diligently sitting here and working on this would make this easier to do. I just didn’t specifically think about HOW it make writing easier. It’s easier because I think of things in terms of articulating them. I mean, duh. Oh man, even right now, I’m thinking of so many things at once, and my impulse is to write them all out here. Although my biggest impulse is to consider this amount I’ve already shown up (and the part I worked out on my notes app earlier) a job well done, and I can clock out and go back to checking out and watching LCS. It’s TL vs TSM in Winner’s 2nd round. Winner get’s a guaranteed World’s spot, and the loser will have to go through EG or C9 to punch their ticket. So yeah, this is banger city. I honestly consider these World’s implication games to be more hype than the championship itself. I mean the championship is going to be between two teams that no matter who wins, instantly go into preparing for World’s. And the success of the year is going to be impacted so much more on that stage than on this one. We will remember who won the NA trophy EVENTUALLY. Come Spring next season. But this whole thing is so much smaller once you consider that beating a team from Korea would instantly outshine any accomplishment achieved on American soil. Like, how can you even get excited for the Championship here when it takes place at the foot of the mountain that is a World Championship? Like the Australian Basketball League surely gets excited for their Final for the season. But if afterward, BOTH teams got invited to play in the play-in round of the NBA playoffs? It would actively steal excitement from the original final, by way of siphoning some of the exciting for the Semi-Final. Hype is a zero sum game. If I’m getting EXTRA hype during the semis because of the implications it presents for the future, I think I have to by definition be less hype for the final after that.

I mean, imagine only ONE team from NA gets to go to World’s each year. Holy shit people would tune in for that final like no other. That would be PEAK hype. It wouldn’t be shared with anything else, and the stake’s wouldn’t be split up. It wouldn’t be one team looking for a chance to qualify, and a separate team looking for the Domestic Title. It would be everything. The Title would BE the qualifying act. It would be the end-all be-all, like every other sport. Your victory parade would be a parade TO THE AIRPORT, as you left for the big enchilada. There’s no, “Aww, they lost NA, but that might actually give them a better vantage point going into Worlds. They have a better idea of what to work on in the interim.” I think that’s kinda weak. And now I realize this means I have to grapple with the idea that my dream World’s tournament is only like 6 teams big. Only the champs from each region. Now World’s can’t take like 2 weeks. The coolest event the sport can have would be over in a flash. That is the price we all pay for the true glory of being the REAL NA CHAMP. The chance to be THE ambassador of our region. I guess that’s about all there really is there.

I’m tuning in and out now. I think I will actually call it there for right now. Maybe I come back later in the day? That could be kinda fun. Who knows? I mean, c’mon. No way right? It’s literally never happened. Eh, whatever. You keep doing you, man. You’re killin’ it (sunglasses emoji)

Love ya

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deepdickdaniel · 7 years

Text

Kang Daniel | Reappear

prompt: the sequel to Vanish; love is all it takes to help daniel bring you back.

note: this is the 7th and LAST day of DANIEL WEEK aka MY BIRTHDAY WEEK!!! this is the week i post seven days of daniel stories as a treat to myself! I am very sad to see this week end, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them! i don’t think i’m going to allow myself to write for daniel for at least a month after this LOL.

His eyes were prompted open by the bright sunlight streaming through the window. Groaning, he covered his eyes with his hand and tried his best to go back to sleep. A few seconds later, his eyes opened, but they were no longer blurry with drowsiness.

Daniel patted the other side of the bed cautiously, half in fear of what he’d find, and the other half in fear of what might not be there. His fears were justified as he felt nothing but the coldness in the air and on the bedsheet. He sat up and looked around the room for any trace of movement. But all he heard were the meows of Rooney and Peter begging to be fed.

That scared him more. Every morning that you woke up before him, you fed them without fail. He begged them to wait for a second and ran all over the home you two shared, opening the bathroom door and even the closets, eyes searching through every nook and cranny for your face. But all he saw were unused hangers and empty space.

Rooney and Peter reminded him that they were hungry, bringing him out of his miserable trance in front of the closet doors. Daniel dragged his feet to the kitchen and filled their bowls with food and water, then he sat on the couch and stared into oblivion. His head was still in pain from his hangover, but the lack of your presence hurt him more.

He held his head in his hands, desperate to stop the pounding, to stop the reminder of why you left him. He didn’t mean the words he said...so why did he say them at all? He reflected in his own feelings, not wanting to ask for your forgiveness if there was even the slightest chance that he actually did not want it.

But then all of your memories with him suddenly slapped him across the face, as if scolding him for even thinking that he didn’t want you back. He let a few tears fall, some sliding down his lips. Daniel licked them away, only tasting the saltiness of regret. He closed his eyes and could only see instances of your beauty, both internal and external, filling his life with such warmth.

After everything, after all the love you had poured into him, was he really going to give up on you that easily? You are home to him, the source of energy that he needed to make it through the rough life of an idol. You are everything to him.

When he said, “This isn’t worth it” - he meant that fighting wasn’t worth it. He was just too tired to communicate that with you. He knew you wanted him to fight for you, but he just didn’t have it in him last night. That was his biggest mistake: thinking he would have more time to fix this.

He had never spoken to you like that before, never even implied that he was upset with you. That’s because he really wasn’t. He was stressed out with work and displaced his frustrated feelings onto you - you, the greatest thing that ever happened to him. Whenever his head got too big or he felt like giving up, you kept him on the ground and looking at the stars. You reminded him that there was so much left for him to learn and achieve, that you’d be there for all of it.

But where were you now? You weren’t with him because of his stupid decision to drink the stress away instead of relaxing with you. He had missed you so much, but because of his mistake, he could possibly miss you for the rest of his life.

Daniel was still in love with you. He smiled to himself bitterly, knowing that that would always be the case. Even if this was the end for the two of you, his feelings would always remain.

That’s why he decided to fight back, to fight for you.

He knew that you needed time, so he was willing to wait two or three days. Any more than that and he felt like he would crack and run to see you. He also understood that you had to think about the entire situation and what you wanted to do, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to contact you.

So he did: the next 48 hours were filled with text messages from him.

I know you need your time. Just know that I would like to talk to you whenever you feel ready.

At first, you were scared of his messages. They all sounded like he wanted to formally end it. But just like clockwork, Daniel started sending texts proclaiming his love. Somehow, he knew just what you were thinking, just like he always has.

I don’t want there to be miscommunication in case my past few messages sound like I don’t want you. I love you. I’ll always want you.

You bitterly smiled at his lack of emojis. You weren’t used to that - his texts were always filled with cute faces and cartoons. You knew he was serious and you would be lying if you said it didn’t satisfy you a little that he realized the gravity of the situation and that it hurt him.

He was texting you before and after every practice, not begging for a response, but simply telling you how his day was going. You recalled having asked him a while ago just to communicate with you, to make you feel like you still knew what was going on in his life.

I just got to practice! I didn’t sleep very well...I think you know why. No pressure or anything! I just wanted to tell you that.

Jaehwan teased me about my dark circles today, but Ong gave him a look so he shut up.

Don’t worry though, I didn’t tell any of the guys. I still have hope for us, so I’m not announcing anything until you tell me you don’t love me anymore.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and let out a small laugh when you read that.

I’m eating properly just like you told me to!

The text messages continued on until you got a call one night.

You didn’t speak at first, so Daniel was unsure if you had actually picked up. But you sneezed and got caught. He smiled at the face he knew you were making on the other side of the phone, probably cursing your own body for being unable to stay quiet.

“I know you’re there...I think you should visit Rooney and Peter. They aren’t used to the whole single parent thing and would like this trial separation to end.”

“Who said it was a trial?” You couldn’t help but throw those words at him, biting your lip in slight regret after. It was harsh, but you also knew he deserved them, so inner conflict filled you.

Hearing Daniel intake a small breath, you knew that you had stung him. He took a few seconds to collect himself before replying, “I have hope that it is. Please come back, it...” he breathed in, “...it doesn’t have to be permanent. That’ll be up to you. I just want to talk. Please.”

You entered the home you shared before the fight, walking as if you had never stepped into it before. As if knowing you were behind the door, Rooney and Peter were waiting for you at the foyer, begging to be noticed. You bent down to pet them and kissed them both softly before looking for your intended target.

Daniel was just sitting still when you sat down across from him at the dining table. He looked more tired than usual, the circles under his eyes had gotten darker. But his eyes themselves became bright the second they met yours. That had never changed. He smiled at you weakly, his eyes never leaving your face.

In a way, you were disappointed that he wasn’t rushing to your side and begging for forgiveness. But this was Daniel. Despite being the silly person that he is, he was smart when it came to this. He knew you didn’t want showy gestures. You wanted genuine and he would give that to you.

Besides, he prefers to observe a situation, playing out the different scenarios that could take place depending on what he says. He is cautious when sober, taking in what could go right or wrong. So there he was, observing you. He was watching what your eyes looked at, how your eyebrows furrowed. He needed to see if things would be okay.

And by the wince and quick drop of his smile, you knew that he didn’t like what he saw.

You looked so blank, so tired of it all. He would have rather had you screaming at him, throwing pillows at his head, anything - anything that showed you still cared for him. So he racked through his brain, trying to find the words to make it better.

Apparently, he took too long. You were waiting to hear the reason why you were here, but he was just staring at the table. So you threw your arms into the air, exasperated.

“Daniel, why am I here?”

“...I wanted to apologize.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Okay? So apologize. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to leave. I didn’t even mean anything I said that night and you know that.”

“Do I know that? You seemed pretty serious to me.”

Daniel signed and ran a hand through his hair, “Everything was so in the moment. It’s such a bad excuse, but believe me, that’s the truth.”

“What about ‘why did we even start if all you make me want is for us to end?’ Hm? According to you, you’ve been just dying for us to break up. So why not take the opportunity?” You were egging him on.

“You are everything to me: my happiness, my dreams, my future. None of those exist without you with me.”

“I guess they don’t exist anymore, then.” It might have been cruel but you wanted him to crack, to feel how you felt on that night. You needed him to feel the agony in the unknown, in not knowing if it was over or not.

Daniel definitely felt it, but he was trying so hard to be calm, to not scare you away. He wanted to show that he was mature and that he could take anything you threw at him. But the growing awareness that you might not have anything to throw at all caused his resolve to shatter.

“Please!” He said a little too loudly and stood up. He noticed how you winced at his voice. His heart squeezed in realization that you must have remembered how he sounded on that night.

So he took a deep breath and sat back down, but his eyes were no less pleading as he said, “Those words truly mean nothing. And I know that sounds like the biggest lie, but I promise my frustration has never been because of you.”

“Mind telling me where it comes from then? Because I’m pretty sure it comes from my ‘nagging.’” You bit back with air quotations, eyes as fierce as his the night of the fight.

“Please just listen…” he pleaded with you to remain quiet, to listen to what he had to say. So you bit your lip and nodded, eyes urging him to go on. He sighed in relief at your silence and continued, “The idol life isn’t easy. You, as my number one supporter, know this. But my stresses and insecurities have been adding up. I didn’t have a proper outlet for it…”

“...If I had screamed at anyone else, there would’ve been really bad consequences…” he trailed off, in hesitation of what that might have implied. And you understood. Just when your mouth opened to attack him once more, he panicked and continued, “I took you for granted. I thought you would always be there. I didn’t spend enough time with you. I didn’t spend time with you, period. I regret it all, I really do.”

“So you just used me as a punching bag? To blame because if you did it to anyone else, it’d be over for you?”

He wanted to close his eyes to avoid the hurt, accusing look you were giving him. But he was afraid that by the time they’d open again, you’d vanish once more. So he willed to keep them open and on you as he replied, “Yes. I regret it, but yes.”

“Who says it’s not over for us?”

You tried your best to not let your emotions seep through your words, but he could see right through you. He saw the quivering of your bottom lip as you spoke, heard the crack in your voice at the end of the question. Daniel knew you wanted to stay together almost as much as he did.

So he walked over to your seat and pulled you out of the chair, grabbing your arms and tugging up. You tried to swat him away with a “Don’t touch me!” but the second you felt his warmth, you felt your body slowly caving.

“Daniel, you are not forgiven!”

“I know,” he muttered as he simply wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder as he felt you gradually stop squirming, “I know. I don’t want you to forgive me for doing this to us. I put us in such a dangerous position. I almost broke us to the point of beyond repair.”

You felt yourself tearing up as you stood still in his embrace, taking in his words. He knew that you didn’t want to let him hear how much he was affecting you, so he continued to speak,

“But just know that even if that happens, even if you really leave me, I will always try to pick up the pieces. My love for you isn’t going anywhere ever. My heart only knows you, my eyes only look at you. You are my end and my beginning. There won’t ever be a true end to our story, I will always need you. I will always want you.” He pulled away to keep a hand on your waist and his other holding your face to look at him. You were trying not to cry, but the way he was looking at you was so intense that a tear escaped you.

“I know that I hurt you and I hate myself for it. But please, just give us another chance. Please.” Daniel finished, his eyes not leaving your face. You shut your eyes for a moment, reflecting on his words.

Those few seconds made Daniel anxious. What if you still decided to leave him after all of that? He would just have to try harder. He would make you fall in love with him all over again if he had to.

You opened your eyes and he searched them, digging deep into your soul. He found them unreadable until you smiled through your tears, and he knew he still had your heart.

“You’re so stupid! Do you know how annoying your texts are when I’m trying to be mad at you?! And why didn’t you beg sooner?! Ughhh, I thought it was really the end of us…!” You started rambling in earnest, no longer conscious of the relieved tears streaming down your face.

Daniel just started to chuckle as he listened to you talk, happy to hear the life in your voice once more. He stared at you lovingly while wiping away your never-ending tears with his thumbs, laughing harder every time your voice cracked.

By the end of your rant, you were panting and glaring at him. He responded by kissing you on the forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

He was observing you again and his heart soared when he saw you hide a smile at his confession. He knew he had gotten a second chance when you reappeared, and he would make the most of it.

#kang daniel #wanna one #kang daniel scenarios #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kang daniel imagines #daniel #daniel scenarios #daniel imagines #everyong #daniel week 2017 #ariane's bday week 2017

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makersmalaysia · 7 years

Text

How are you?

A post in honour of World Mental Heath day, though it is a couple of days late.

I felt encouraged to write this after watching @danielhowell post this vid:

https://youtu.be/Wp2TUPo5W0c

Where he talks about his depression, how long he's had it, what he does, and how he makes sure he feels okay. I thank him for his honesty and bravery.

I thought it would be good to open up to you guys, just in case anyone else feels this way.

My Story.

My depression constantly lurks, and I take active steps to do any necessary self care + getting in touch w reality. Some days it disappears, but some days I can feel the gloom creep up on me. Then I think about how I'm worthless, useless, a disappointment.

Smtimes I can battle it by quickly looking for an outlet to distract myself - a TV show or drawing / painting or - in desperation - exercise. Other times i let it consume me cos dammit I get tired. But only if I know I have nothing for the day. No obligations. Just me.

In these times where I'm stuck in a hole, I appreciate those who bother making plans w me / talk to me. Keeps me in touch with reality. At a time where you are stuck in your own head, it's a reminder that stuff is still going on around you. And things are perfectly normal.

The diff btwn feeling sad & having depression is when you're depressed you feel nothing at all. You feel nothing, you feel *like* nothing. I understand why people would cut/hurt themselves bcs

can't fix your insides so you scrape the outsides

feeling something > nothing

I urge anyone that has felt this way to please take care of yourself. Try to be healthy, talk to someone for a reality check.

If needed, please see someone professional. Doesn't matter what society thinks because what matters is you being comfy in your own skin.

It has taken me a long time to get to where I am now, in identifying when the low is going to start, in accepting + dealing with it. It has been years, probably since I was...? 13? 14? I always thought it was a normal thing bcs I lived so long with it tbh.

Coupled with (social) anxiety as well 😂 but /shrug it has made me who I am today, always wanting to push myself *despite* wtv I feel.

I forget that depression is not a thing everyone goes through, and some may say the things I talk/think about are dark eg suicide or death (yep sorry, if you know me irl you'd understand hahah) But honestly, I'd rather voice it out either to someone or read about it or write it bcs... It's better than being stuck in my head. PSA I am not suicidal k guys I have dealt with it a while ago and it is definitely not something I will do. And yes I did mention about understanding why people cut themselves - and yes I have had thoughts about doing it. Sometimes the things I think of are so twisted that the best thing to do is just ignore it rather than layan. As I said, it took me a long time to get here. To know which thoughts to deal with and which to try to ignore.

Oftentimes I deal with how crappy I may feel by making self deprecating jokes and generally just by looking at my life like it IS a big joke - because sometimes that's the best coping mechanism and everyone has one eh? Heh

Especially coupled with social anxiety, it has made me feel the need to push myself despite of how I feel, because I know it's in my head, and I know if I just push through I might just make it.

So I do apologise if I am elusive when I do go to markets and stuff, if I did introduce myself to you then do know it took me a lot of strength to do that 😅 I have gotten pretty good at doing things like that though, it just takes a lot of mental prep.

A lot of things can cause mental illnesses, like just being born with chemical imbalances in your brain, or you being put down constantly for a long amount of time (ie bullying, manipulative behaviour from others etc).

Whoever is going through anything like this, or even any different mental illness, I wish you well and I am sending you lots of love. I understand how hard it may be to even think that you may have it, and even harder to ask for help, but always know you are not alone, and that you need to take care of yourself like drink lots of water and exercise and keep in touch with people and eat enough.

Understanding it may also help, and trying different ways to deal with it too. For example, I do a lot of art, and when I feel way too depressed that's my go to, when I just feel a burning desire to draw and paint, because it makes me feel better, and even if it doesn't happen scientifically, the placebo effect might be enough. What matters is how YOU feel.

Anyway, take care. If you want to share your stories about depression or any other mental illness with me, I would love to hear them. Just message me on Instagram or email me through the contact page on my site, or even send me a Facebook message. You are strong and you will get through it :)

Lots of love.

#Blog #Artistik.ah #World mental health day #Depression #Social anxiety #Mental health #Mental illness #Clinical depression

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drybonesawaken · 5 years

Text

I’m really bad at texting, and I don’t know why.

For me, there are two types of texting. One of them is the kind where I receive a ‘hey what are you doing right now’ or ‘hey when are you free for ____’ kind of thing. These, I have no problem with - I usually respond whenever I see it and have the time - so anywhere between immediately (I was already on my phone) to within a few hours (I was busy, eg. I was at work, and didn’t check my phone for awhile, or just didn’t have the time to respond). The problem for me is the other kind. Anything that requires even the slightest amount of brain space for me, or resembles conversation of any sort, instantly becomes a huge headache for me internally and I just refuse to answer it until I’ve built up the courage (or something like that) to do so. So a simple ‘did you eat today?’ can take me up to days to answer. ‘How is your relationship with God’ will probably have an average response time of 9 days. That is - I see the message, then wait 9 days, then answer it.

Why the heck am I like this? I have no answer for you. I started thinking about this again after I had a text conversation with a friend about how bad I am at texting - unironically, the short conversation took weeks and I still have yet to respond to their last message. I was thinking back to how this problem for me started, and I don’t have a good answer. In high school, I know that most texts I returned within a few hours, if not relatively instantly or within the hour. There was one conversation in particular that I know where both sides took several days to respond each time, but that was because it was an unusually philosophical/theological conversation, and there were several conversations going on at once that both sides just replied to in a list, so I don’t think this was an issue. So, the issue had to have started sometime around college.

I know that the summer before college, the relationship that I was in - if you can even call it that much - was extremely text intensive. The girl was very extroverted, so I ended up texting a lot at night, and then when I was in China, you’d think that because of time differences we would text less, but somehow because I was so bored we talked even more then. I don’t think it was a healthy amount for me, so by the end of summer (now looking back, I can see that) I was pretty burnt out. When school started again and I had more things to do, my texting rate steadily declined within that first month. I can definitely remember reaching a point where I would text once or twice a day - but that’s not the important part. Now looking back, I realized that there were times when I would intentionally wait after I received a text, not to respond immediately, because I was afraid that if I responded immediately, she would still be there and reply again, and then she would feel bad if I wouldn’t respond immediately. So I would wait for unusual times to respond, in hopes that I wouldn’t receive an immediate response. Looking back now, I guess you could say I was scared of texting.

I can’t think of any other reason or cause or link, so I think my terribly slow response rate was definitely related, if not impacted, by this. At the very least, this was the point at which I started being okay with seeing a text, and not feeling the need to respond. For the sake of my own selfishness, I lost a sense of responsibility for respecting the other person’s time, emotions, and whatever other junk goes into texting.

Well, as I was reflecting earlier, I had this thought of ‘Why does this matter? Should I even care, or want to change?’ And I think this question has been answered. It’s simply not loving - not Christ-like - to be so slow with my responses. People text me because they value their conversations with me (well, at least I would hope so, otherwise it would be pretty sad if they were just humoring me LOL), and for me to not give a timely response is to disregard that trust that they’ve placed in me, in a sense. It’s dishonoring to the person I’m having the conversation with. So I think as I am striving to grow in love, this is something I should consider as wel - after all, there is actual biblical backing for this: “But all things should be done decently and in order” 1 Cor 14:40 - I definitely do not do texting decently... That said, I’m not saying I should just drop everything every time I get a message. Sometimes, it really does take me hours to see something (no vibrate and screen time life), but I usually see at least all the messages from the day at night. Sometimes, I really do have a lot on my plate and I’m kinda swamped and don’t have the bandwidth to respond and by the end of the day I’m just brutally tired and drop dead in my bed - but is that really the case the vast majority of days?

So yeah, I think I should be more intentional about this. I want to challenge myself to be more timely with my responses, but I realize that how quickly I respond is actually very dependent firstly on the topic (as I described in the very beginning) and then secondly also on who the person I’m speaking with is. As I think about my texting patterns, I realize that I very readily read group chats (because I don’t have to respond to them LOL), and then I respond a lot quicker to brothers than to sisters. And then, there’s a very explicit set of people with whom I seem to be okay with responding immediately to, of which all are guys except one. It’s very interesting - my guess is it’s related to the experiences I talked about earlier, where the result of was a combination of a lack of respect and an intrinsic fear when I text sisters LOL...yikes. So here’s my goal: it’s specifically targeted at my texting patterns where I suck. I think there are certain areas of my texting where my response time is okay, and there are other areas where I am just despicably slow. It’s too complicated to qualify exactly (but in my mind it should be pretty clear - I know who I talk to and how quickly I respond), but the general area I’m targeting is conversations with sisters where I have to think about what I have to say (of course, there are going to be brothers mixed into that, and other conversations, blah blah, I won’t bore you with the details). And within this group, the benchmark I am setting is the goal to respond within 18 hours. Starting tomorrow. God be with me..

It’s amazing that I spent so much time talking about my texting habits LOL.

#relationships

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