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nojey · 3 years

Text

reminiscing (fans 2)

dreamwastaken x streamer!reader

genre: angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): failed relationship, cursing

fans (part 1)

synopsis: after taking 6 months off from social media, you finally explain to your fans why you took so long and why you needed it.

go live. *click*

you watched as your chat strolled in and viewer count go up. your computer screen illuminating your face in the dark room as your webcam caught the nervous look. you were shaking your leg up and down, a habit you caught whenever you tried to calm yourself down.

“hi everyone, it’s been a while since my last stream, huh?” you dryly chuckled. “it’s been about.. 6 months since i last streamed and at this point i think i’ve taken enough time to correctly word how i’m going to tell everyone why i decided to take a break from streaming.” you said looking down at the ground and fiddling with your fingers.

“uh, donation notifications will be off for this stream and chat will be on emotes only because i really just want to focus on getting this out. but if you plan on donating, thank you so much, really, it means the world to me.” you said finally looking at your webcam and smiling a bit. you read a chat and answer, “yes, i’m doing okay. i just have a big announcement i want to say after i tell you guys why i took a break.”

you took a deep breath in and started. “ over a year ago, almost 2, i met this guy through a friend and we started talking. it was very little at the beginning but as little as it was, his texts always made me smile.” you scratched the back of your neck. “and as time went on, we started talking more and more and he just became part of my daily routine. when i woke up i’d see a good morning text from him, we’d spend most of our day being on the phone with each other, i was even on facetime with him most of my streams but i had an airpod under my headset so you couldn’t really see it, i almost always fell asleep on facetime with him. i really fell for this guy.” you fondly smiled, looking at your desk, where your phone used to be propped up and you would see clays face just looking at you.

“then we started streaming together. ‘omg he’s a streamer too’ yeah, and a lot of you probably know who i’m talking about at this point but i still won’t disclose who it is. i uh, got a lot of messages from you guys telling me that i looked super happy that stream and i was. i was always happy when i talked to him. but along with those messages i also got a lot of hate, telling me to stay away from him. it didn’t really bother me because i always get hate when i stream with my guy friends; i was used to it.” you said, taking a sip from your water then wiping the side of your eye as it teared up.

“and today... i’ll be going on the dream smp! with the man himself, dream. dream, say hi now.” you introduced, you waited a few seconds but was only met with silence. you grabbed your phone and sent him a voice message, “clay! you’re on deafen! introduce yourself!” you screamed into your phone. dream then took himself off deafen and said. “hi (y/s/n)’s chat! i’m dream, i’ll be showing (y/n) around the smp today and we’re gonna get started on their house.” you smiled fondly when you heard him speak. “yeah! what dream said!”

so you both logged into the dream smp, said hi to sapnap, and dream gave you a tour. you then started building your house in a forest, quite far from everyone else, “i don’t want anyone bothering you or ruining your house when you’re not on.” he explained. you told dream you wanted to build a cottage so if anyone does end up stumbling upon it, it looks welcoming to them. so dream started building your house for you even though you insisted you do it together. “dream! let me help, this is supposed to be my house.” you dragged. “well we can both decorate inside and make it our house.” you started blushing. “i guess..” you mumbled. you then started adventuring out to look for flowers and some things to decorate the house with.

you started placing flowers down into flower pots when you noticed something. “dream there’s only one bedroom.” you mentioned. he slowly turned around to look at you and quickly turned back and placed two beds next to each other. “this is our room, dumbass.”

later that night you checked your twitter dms and saw many people telling you to stop talking to dream and that you weren’t good enough to even know him. you sighed and powered down your phone.

“i think a few weeks after that he asked me if i could fly out to him and we’d meet in person. i was so excited i immediately started packing and i met him. it was amazing! i got to meet the guy i’ve been in love with for the past few months. i think it may have been a year already. but yeah, i finally got to meet him and being in his arms was the best feeling in the world, i felt so safe being with him.”

“it was the day after that, when he asked me on a date and i, of course, said yes. like who would say no to the person they fell in love with... so we went on a date and at the end of it we were just sitting on top of the hood of the car, eating dinner, watching the sunset and talking about a future we wanted together. and it may seem like we were moving fast but i knew 7 months into talking to him that he felt the same way about me. no matter if either of us disclosed it. i could tell and i knew he knew the same about me. then i went home and everything was perfect, i wasn’t his girlfriend yet though because we wanted to wait a bit.”

“that’s when everything went downhill, i think” you looked up to try to stop the tears from going down your face, but they fell anyways so you just let it be.

“we started streaming more and more and i started getting more hate than i usually got, this time getting death threats, people threatening to leak my address if i didn’t stop being friends with him. it was crazy but i was willing to endure it all for him. who cares what people on the internet are going to say to me? i really didn’t because i was happy enough with him that, that happiness overcame whatever type of hate i was getting.” tears kept falling from your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe it, knowing it would just keep happening.

“dude you’re so annoying! you definitely cheated!” you screamed as you died. through your headset you could hear clay wheezing. “there was no way i was cheating!” he said through his laughs. “ask my chat, they saw the whole thing.” you breathed out, not wanting to believe him till a dono was sent to you, “yeah, (y/n) you just suck at this game,” you gasped, your jaw hanging then you started pouting. it was clipped and one of your viewers sent it to dream. he suddenly started laughing harder and you asked him why he was laughing, with a pout still on your face. “even your chat knows i didn’t cheat!” you started laughing too, till you read a message in the chat saying, “ew, their laugh is ugly. i don’t know why dream likes them.” you stopped laughing but kept a fake smile on your face.

“then he called me and he told me that he didn’t think we should be dating anymore, or even be friends. and i think it was because he saw the hate i was getting and he didn’t like that. he told me a different reason as to why he didn’t think we should date anymore but i didn’t believe it, but i let him go. because i was not going to force him to be with me if he really did mean it. “ you said, sniffling after so you didn’t sound too congested as you spoke.

after you hung up, you curled into a ball and cried. you cried, and cried, and cried. the feeling in your chest hurting more than you could ever imagine. you just lost the guy you wanted to marry, the guy you had spent over a year going to because of your problems, the guys you saw having kids with, the guy that made everything worth it. he was the only person on your mind as the pain in your chest grew. you tweeted and powered your phone off straight after. you didn’t want anyone messaging you asking what was wrong, knowing your friends they would do that.

“so the reason i took a break from streaming was because of that. because i resented the people that sent me hate so much i couldn’t bring myself to stream. i didn’t resent them because they sent me hate. i resent them because the hate they sent me caused the guy i really wanted to be with to make me believe he didn’t love me like i love him.” now, you were sobbing, letting your cry’s out because you had been holding them in for too long.

it had been a few months and you were on snapchat, seeing that you had a memory a year ago today, you checked it. “i think i literally met my soulmate.” with a picture of you and clay in a discord call. your breath got caught in your throat and your breathing became labored. your eyes started stinging as the tears started falling. it’s happening again, all the pain from the day you stopped talking to him came back and once again, you were crying into your hands and you couldn’t stop.

“i had always known that becoming a streamer i would get hate, but i never thought that i would get enough hate to prevent a relationship i really wanted to work. now all i do is reminisce of a guy i wish could be mine”

“streaming has brought me so many opportunities and i am so grateful for everything you guys have done for me, and for me to be able to do something i love and make money from it is insane to me. you guys have given me everything i ever wanted in life up until that point and i am so grateful and appreciative of that. you guys gave me friendships that i will never lose and never forget. so many of you have told me that i’ve saved you and changed your lives but trust me when i say you guys have saved me and changed my life too. i hope i repaid you back by making you smile, being your comfort streamer, and being a support system for each of you. but i think this is my end of the road. i fucking love streaming, i love you guys. but every time i click that “go live” button or even try to, all i think about is him and that’s too painful for me right now. maybe in the future i’ll find my way back here but i can’t promise that.”

“thank you guys, so, so, so, so, much for every single opportunity given to me, for everything. i love you all. my dms are still open. and this was (y/s/n), signing off for possibly the last time. goodbye everyone.”

end stream. *click*

a tear rolling down his face and falling onto his keyboard as he watched you finally say goodbye to your stream. it all just felt like you were saying your last goodbye to him again.

for the last 6 months all clay could do was think about you and how he wished he just messaged you and told you he was sorry and didn’t mean what he said. that he misses you and he would quit streaming if that meant he could be with you. that all he wanted was to feel you in his arms again and just live out the future you two planned together.

but if you just said goodbye to your chat for your last stream because you couldn’t stand the thought of him whenever you tried to stream. how could you ever forgive him?

the thought of never speaking to you hit him once more and again, he cried, sobbed, screamed, threw things, and even then, he knew.. you would never be coming back to him, with every fiber in his being, wishing you would.

—————

taglist: @loxbbg @bozowrites @noahsfag @sparklykeylime @bi-narystars @axths @cheybaee @letsloveimagines @meatte @julesamen21 @classyunknownlover @bad268 @strawbrinkofdeath

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javier-pena · 3 years

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bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

masterlist | join the tag list

The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself – you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao, @chattychell, @darksber, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @magicrowiswritingstuff, @mothandpidgeon, @mbpokemonrulez, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos, @pescopadral, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #lmao i'm still a coward though and currently asleep #tw: flashing gif

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karlajoyner · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Charlie Gillespie x reader , where Charlie Gillespie is the reader’s boyfriend who dress as a clown for Madison Reys’s halloween party while they were in Canada and where Jeremy and Owen dress as clowns too to scare to Charlie’s girlfriend who is the reader but she hates getting scared.

It’s Stupid (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys so I hope you enjoy this one. I don't know if I'm gonna post the sunset curve one next yet because I have so much to work on for it. So I might post the one after unless you guys are willing to wait! Let me know if you are if you'd just prefer I post the next one!

Requested by: @fantomlovesjuke4ever (Tumblr)

Warnings: None

————

I placed the orange beanie over my head. Finally finishing off my final look.

Giggling to myself I walked out into the living room to see Savannah there in her Kim Possible outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Oh my god Charlie's gonna die!" She laughed throwing her head back.

"You look great"

"Are you sure it's not too....booby" I said moving the muscle tee away from my body to show my black bra. The muscle tee being directly from the show itself courtesy of the wardrobe department.

"It's Madison's Halloween party. I don't wanna show up looking like a slut"

"It's not too booby. You look great plus no ones gonna get to look under there except Charlie" She teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes grabbing a large oversized jacket to cover my costume.

"Where'd Tori go?"

"She went to go check on the boys to see if they were almost ready"

"Oh sounds good. Hey thanks again for letting me room with you two"

"Of course you know you're always welcome when your here. Plus I know Kenny always appreciates that you choose not to room with your boyfriend when you visit us"

"Kenny and apparently Owen too" I said earning a giggle from the girl.

"Tori just texted said the boys are ready and scary"

"Really?"

"Yeah. What's Charlie gonna be this year?" She asked as I grabbed my phone off the kitchen countertop.

"Beats me. He said it was top secret"

"Same for Owen and Jer" She spoke as I received a message from my boyfriend himself.

"Oh" I muttered.

"What's up?"

"Charlie just texted they'll meet us there. Something about needing the makeup department"

"Oh my"

"I just hope it's not anything too scary. I hate anything terrifying. I don't even watch scary movies at night due to the fact that I'm a complete wimp"

"Does Charlie know that?" Savannah bit her lip.

"Of course we've been dating for 6 months. If he didn't I'd be worried" I said walking out the front door.

I sighed stepping out of the Uber taking in the freezing cold air. Nothing too bad.

"How are you not freezing your socks off?" Tori asked.

"Toro you forget I've lived in Canada my whole life. You Californians cannot take the cold"

"Your the female version of Charlie. It's actually crazy" The girl said as she looped her arm through my own.

"Yeah he kinda rubbed off on me" I smiled walking into the warehouse with my two temporary roommates.

Immediately we spotted Madison, Sacha and Jadah.

"Y/n!" Madison and Jadah shouted running up to me.

"There's my angel. And my devils" I grinned at my boyfriends cast mates. Taking in the warmth's of the new surrounding.

"Okay let's see it. I've been waiting in anticipation to see your take on Luke Patterson" I giggled opening up the jacket to reveal the rest of my costume.

"You look great!"

"I think you look better than Charlie"

"Yeah my guns look great too don't they?" I asked flexing my arms causing laughter to erupt from the group.

"Okay seriously though where's my boyfriend and his posse"

"We have no idea"

"I do" Sacha stated smirking at me.

"Are you going to tell me?" I asked.

"Nope" As soon as the word left his lips my phone dinged.

"It's Charlie. He's asking me to meet him in the makeup. Where's that?"

"I'll walk you" Sav said taking my hand. We made it to a large door with windows to peer in.

"It's dark" I stated jiggling the knob to find it locked.

"Well that's weird" Sav said knocked. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the door opened slowly.

"Take my hand"

"Okay Troy Bolton" Savannah said making me giggle. We walked forward slowly my heart dropping feeling a pair of arms grab my waist. I screamed in fear as the lights turned on. The three faces in front of me smiling widely.

"Ahhh" I shut my eyes hugging Savannah tightly. Who seem to have had a similar reaction because she didn't hesitate to pull me close either. My heart beating out of my chest wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry all my anxiety out. We gripped onto each other for dear life as......laughter erupted?

I slowly peeled my eyes open to see Charlie laughing loudly clutching his stomach along with Owen and Jeremy. A frown fell upon my face as I let the light haired girl go.

"Charlie" I whispered a small tear escaping my eyes.

The laughter quickly died down. Charlie's face now expressing concern.

"Y/n baby what's wrong?"

I scoffed walking past Savannah to be anywhere but here.

Flashback

"Come on babe"

"Charlie I'm serious. I hate scary movies and I hate being scared. It sends me into this weird panic mode and I get anxious" I ranted watching him turn the tv off.

"You probably think I'm some sort of freak who can't take a joke. If you don't wanna date me anymore that's fine but just don't make me watch that movie especially right now" I spoke looking out the window into the darkness of the dimly lit street.

"Why would you ever think I wouldn't want to date you because of this?" He asked hurt flashing his eyes.

"I don't know. It's just my past boyfriends have called me lame for not wanting to go out to a scary movie with them at night. Or not wanting to dress up as some sort of badass scary character for Halloween. It just sucks to be left out because of some stupid irrational fear"

"It's anything but irrational. So you got a fear of something. We all do. Hey I'm insanely afraid of spiders"

"Really?" I asked biting my lips.

"Yeah baby. It's a stupid fear I know but something about their long legs makes me just ugh" He said getting the chills.

"It's not stupid. Thanks Charlie" I smiled.

"Anytime y/n. Now come on" He spoke sticking his hand out to me.

"What about the movie?"

"We're still watching a movie. Frozen to be exact. Upstairs in my room, cuddling up in a pillow fort. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing" I grinned taking it. I sighed contently as he pulled my into a hug.

"I promise I won't scare you or take any of your fears with a pinch of salt"

"I promise to do the same" I said looking up at the boy in front of me. Looking up at the face that I was slowly but surely falling in love with.

I made my way back towards the party immediately spotting Madi and Tori talking. Their eyes landed on me quickly sensing something wrong.

I made my way over to them wiping away the strayed water droplets under my eyes.

"Hey what's wrong?"

"The guys are assholes" I spoke bitterly.

"Did they scare you too?" Madison asked as I nodded. The two understanding me immediately.

"Yeah..... Its just when Charlie and I started dating I specifically explained to him why I don't like being scared and he promised he'd never take that one specific fear and use it against me. And he just scared the living crap out of me and Savannah. Which I'm glad I did figure out it was him and the boys before I passed out or puked. I'd expect it from Owen and Jer but my own boyfriend. I know it's stupid and I probably over reacted but I just- I've always made sure to kill every damn spider in our damn apartment so he wouldn't have to do it. And he does this to me"

"I don't think you overreacted. You have the right to be mad"

"You think?"

"Yeah but I also know Charlie's an idiot and needs to be reminded of things from time to time"

"You're right" I sighed.

"Look he's obviously gonna apologize. Just don't be too hard on him. His memories almost as bad as his handwriting" Madison joked making me let out a strangled chuckle hearing my name being called.

"Y/n! Y/n! Where is she?" Charlie shouted running into the room. The music coming to a halt.

All eyes landed on me as Charlie ran up to me.

"Please continue" I awkwardly chuckled pulling the brunette off into a random hallway.

The loud music blaring through the speakers once more.

"What is it Charles?" I spoke sternly turning around to face the boy who's makeup was much worse than before.

"Y/n baby I'm so sorry we pranked you. The boys convinced me that it'd be funny to get as many people as we could today. I didn't know you'd get so upset. I'll go take off this stupid costume right now if you want me to but please don't be mad at me baby. I love you" He finished nearly out of breath. I took in a deep breath hearing the sadness in his voiced as he had ranted like any other time he screwed up which wasn't very often. But still.

"Do you remember the night we watched frozen in your room?" I questioned nervously playing with the rings on my fingers. Another prop from Luke's character that tied my costume together.

"Of course it was amazing. We made a pillow fort and ate popcorn and afterwards we did stuff that was definitely not pg 13" He smirked making me roll my eyes.

"Do you remember why we watched frozen?" I spoke once more hoping he would get where I was going with my questions.

"Yeah we watched it because- oh. Y/n I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot I can't believe I forgot about that"

"Yeah......Listen I'm not mad that your a clown which by the way I do happen to also be afraid of too but it's not gonna kill me. And I'm certainly not mad at Owen and Jeremy because they wanted to have a little fun tonight. But they didn't know about my anxiety that I get whenever I get scared. You did Charlie"

"I know I did" He groaned throwing his head back.

"And if my memory wasn't so damn bad I wouldn't have even thought about doing it baby. I hope you know that. And I'll do literally anything to get you to forgive me starting with never putting you through that again when your with me" He spoke taking my hands in his.

I sighed intertwining our fingers pulling him close to me.

"I know you won't. I also might have overreacted a bit" I said nuzzling my face into his chest.

His arms immediately wrapping around me completely.

"You didn't overreact. Overreacting is me when I see a spider. In all seriousness I love you and I'm really sorry for doing that"

"It's fine Charlie. I'll get my revenge on you guys" I spoke kissing his cheek before skipping away back to the party.

"Y-you're what? Wait baby your what? Y/n!" I heard him call after me as I laughed.

————

Up Next: Sunset Curve x Reader (Maybe)

Carrie Wilson x Reader

Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex x Male Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg

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junquisite · 3 years

Text

C’est La Vie 7

WORD COUNT : 1.6K

GENRE : Fluff. SIngle Parent! OC AU

WARNING : None. yearning if it’s considered one

PARTS : 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 F

NOTE : Please enjoy one of my favorite fic i have EVER written.

"Hey Sejun. What are you doing here?" She asked and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I wanted to see you. And I got cupcakes for Jiah!" He said, lifting up the box to show her.

"Umm bad timing Sejun."

"Why?" He asked but then they both heard someone Calling her name from the inside of her apartment and then the door opened and someone peeked out to see them.

"Wooseok?" Sejun said.

"Hi. Sejun right? It's nice to see you." Wooseok said and Sejun gave him a smile. Well, Atleast tried to.

"Yeah. What are you doing here?" He asked and Jinae cleared her throat beside him but he ignored her.

"Oh I brought Jinae hangover drinks and some breakfast. You?" Wooseok asked.

"I brought cupcakes for Jiah." Sejun mumbled.

Suddenly the said girl in question peaked her head out and yelled happily seeing Sejun.

"Uncle Sejun! Come in! How did you know I wanted to see you today?" She said, grabbing his hand and dragging him in and he followed her. Wooseok and Jinae right behind them.

"What is that?" Jiah asked Sejun and he opened the box for her.

"I got you cupcakes. An extra Oreo for you!" He said and she smiled gleefully, Picking one up and looking at Jinae, who nodded at her and she took her bite.

"You make the best cupcakes in the whole world." She said with a mouthful and he chuckled.

"Why? I got you some too. Don't you like them?" Wooseok interrupted and Jiah looked at him in the eyes and said No.

Sejun couldn't help but snicker at his face.

"Why?" He asked with a pout and Jiah said, "These are tastier." And grabbed another one when Jinae came and picked the box, afraid Jiah would eat all of them then only.

"Uncle Sejun, Can you teach me to bake?" Jiah asked after she was done with her cupcakes and he shrugged.

"If you have all the items."

Then they both looked at Jinae who sighed.

"We do have all of it but don't you have to go back to your bakery?"

"Taesong can handle it for a day. Let's go bake!" He said and Jiah shouted excitedly.

She rushed to the kitchen dragging Sejun and Wooseok and Jinae followed behind.

Sejun taught her step by step and promised to write the recipe down for her too and when finally the cupcakes were in the oven, he started cleaning up while Jiah stared at the oven.

"It won't bake quickly if you stare at them baby. Help your uncle Sejun clean up." Jinae said while coming herself to help him.

"Ehh it's fine kiddo. You watch those cupcakes rise and I'll clean. You don't have to worry Jinae." Sejun said and she nodded but still helped. Wooseok was standing near Jiah to keep an eye on her in case she suddenly wanted to touch the hot glass or something.

Jiah eventually sat down on the floor and looked at her mom and Sejun working comfortably together and cleaning up.

"Mommy.." she said and Jinae nodded at her to continue.

"Do you like uncle Sejun?"

Everyone literally froze and whipped their heads around to see Jiah looking innocently at her mother.

Wooseok was the first one to come to his senses and he patted her on the head and said, "You should not ask such questions baby."

She turned her head up at him and asked "Why not?"

Sejun also chimed in,"Yeah. Why not Wooseok-ssi?"

Wooseok was at a loss of words and was looking wide-eyed between Sejun and Jinae.

Jinae finally crouched down in front of her and said, "Of course I do baby. He's your friend, isn't he? And you like him. So mommy likes him too."

Jiah nodded at that and Jinae tried to get up but she tugged at her pyjamas.

"Mommy, do you think uncle Sejun is handsome?"

Sejun stared at the little girl. Was she really hoping for him to date her mother? That's what she meant right? Like the time she asked him about Jinae at the bakery in front of Seungyoun.

"Yes I think baby. But so is Wooseok. But you know who's the most handsome of all?" Jinae asked and he stared at her back, full of curiosity.

Jiah nodded no and Jinae ruffled her hair.

"Uncle Seungyoun of course. Isn't he baby?" Jinae said and Jiah broke into a giggle.

"Yes he is. Sad he has a girlfriend." Jiah said and Sejun almost smiled. Almost.

Seungyoun had a girlfriend? He wasn't into Jinae? Well that was one competitor down. 'There's still Wooseok and Seungsik hyung.' Sejun Thought.

Jinae laughed at it though and Sejun smiled.

"I wish Aunt Aerin could come visit us more. I miss her." Jiah said, looking slightly down and Jinae sighed.

"Well don't we all."

Half an hour later Wooseok took his leave and Jiah went to his room to bring her toys to show to Sejun.

Jinae was cleaning the table they had just had breakfast on and Sejun went to stand in front of her, just looking.

"What is it?" She finally asked, looking up at him and he could see a hint of a smile on her face.

"I messaged you today. You didn't reply."

Jinae gave him a confused look and turned around to look for her phone.

"I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to check my phone yet."

When she finally found it, she saw it had two messages from Sejun and smiled.

"I wanted to talk to you. About what happened yesterday." Sejun said and she looked up with a conflicting face. He wanted to ask what was wrong, why that face but then the bell rang and she went to get the door, leaving him standing in the kitchen.

The door opened and someone else's voice sounded in the house.

"You really need to start checking your phone. We are meeting an important client tonight that you know nothing about and we need to smarten you up."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sejun mumbled as Seungsik came from the entrance towards the kitchen with hands full of folders.

"Sejun? What are you doing here?" He asked, genuinely surprised to see him there.

"I brought some cupcakes for Jiah and ended up teaching her to bake some."

Seungsik smiled at him and then Jiah came running out and hugged Seungsik.

"You are going to have a meeting again?" She asked Him and he nodded at her.

"But you can play with uncle Sejun till then, right Sejun? You got somewhere else to be?" Seungsik asked and he shrugged. Might as well.

"Sure. I'll take care of her. You guys go to your meeting or whatever."

"It's not a meeting. It's just a briefing about our new client. We won't be long I promise!" Seungsik said, going towards a room Sejun figured was her office with Jinae behind.

Well Seungsik's 'we won't be long' turned out to be 2 hours long and when they came back out, Sejun wanted to hit his hyung. All he wanted was to talk to her about the kiss and maybe take her out on a date. Was that too much to ask?

When they came out Jiah complained about being hungry and Jinae said she will cook lunch and asked Seungsik and Sejun to stay for it. Both of them agreed and Sejun offered to help before Seungsik could so he went to play with Jiah.

The whole time he tried to talk to her about yesterday but whenever he would broach the subject, she would just ignore it or start talking about something else and it was doing nothing to calm his anxiety.

When finally the lunch was ready and she was about to go out to call the others, he stopped her.

"Why are you avoiding it?" He finally asked and she turned around to face him, the same conflicting expression on her face only making him feel more nervous.

"I'm sorry for yesterday Sejun. I was drunk and it was a mistake."

He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry but he needed answers first.

"What do you mean? No it wasn't? You know it wasn't a mistake Jinae." He pleaded and he could see it in her eyes that whatever she said, she didn't mean it.

"Sejun, you need to understand. I can't date right now. I have a small child and she comes first. Jiah will always come first. And I don't want her to feel confused and scared about me dating someone."

"But Jiah likes me!" Sejun insisted but she cut him off, "she likes everyone Sejun. EVERYONE. I'm just not ready for a relationship yet. I'm sorry." She said and turned around to leave and called for Jiah and Seungsik.

They both came wandering down, laughing about something and Seungsik helped her sit on her baby chair.

Suddenly Sejun walked out of the kitchen and went to Jiah, kissing her on her forehead he said,"I'm sorry kiddo. I have to go. I just got a call from the bakery and they need me. I'll grab lunch with you someday else alright?"

Jiah got sad for a second but nodded.

"Pinky promise?" She asked and Sejun locked his pinky with her's.

"Pinky promise."

He then nodded at Seungsik who gave him a confused look.

"Is it something serious? You don't look too good."

"Don't worry hyung. It's nothing. I'll see you later." And he left, waving them a goodbye as he left.

And it was her turn to stare at his leaving figure.

#victon #victonwriters #sejun #lim sejun #victon sejun #victon fluff #sejun fluff #victon scenario #victon scenarios #victon imagines #victon imagine

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hi-hey-haechan · 4 years

Text

@yoonculture requested, “Hi can you do 21+83 for Jeno ? Thanks !” (It was also requested with a degradation kink).

Thank you for requesting!

Prompt list is here

21: “The first one too make noise, loses”

83: “That’s probably the fastest I’ve ever done that”

Warnings: unprotected sex, mild degradation

Watching a movie at the dorms with the boys was a bad idea, simply because of the situation you and your boyfriend were currently in. For the record, Jeno had started it.

The situation was practically setting this up. You and Jeno, sitting next to each other on the couch, both of you under a blanket? Did they expect you to just sit there innocently?

It had begun with innocent cuddling, and the movie had also started that way. His arm was around you, keeping you warm and making you feel loved and safe. You rested your head on his shoulder, unable to contain a smile.

Innocent. Until he removed his arm from your shoulders and placed his hand on your thigh. You didn't think much of it at first, though you missed his arms around you. From the beginning, Jeno was not engaged in the film. His fingers applied pressure to your leg, lightly squeezing your thigh. Your face grew flushed as his intentions became more clear. He slid his hand up your leg, continuing to rub and squeeze the flesh of your thigh.

When you glanced at him, you were met with his eyes, and him biting his lip. Damn, that was hot--

“The movie’s right there, Jeno,” you told him quietly, slightly amused at how intently he was staring at you.

“I really don’t feel like watching a movie right now,” Jeno whispered in your ear. His hair tickled the skin of your cheek and jaw as his head was close to yours. The deep, richness in his voice admittedly was beginning to do things to you, causing you to feel some type of way.

You decided to tease him a bit, acting oblivious to his obvious intentions. “Oh, yeah? What would you rather be doing? Since your hands were under the blanket, unseen, you placed a hand on the bulge in his jeans. You were surprised, for you hadn’t even touched him or done anything to turn him on, yet here he was, needy, already hard.

“You.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, but the idea of him pounding into you in one of the bedrooms, making you feel so good that the other members could hear your sounds of pleasure, was honestly such a turn-on at that moment.

Jeno and you didn’t even make your departure known. The others would know that any lie you could come up with would be false. You and Jeno going into a bedroom? Alone? Seriously, what other believable explanation could you think of?

As soon as you two entered the room, Jeno closed the door, locked it, and decided to pin you up against it. His strong, lithe body against yours only increased your arousal. When he his warm, soft lips met yours with a surprising force, you were taken aback for a second, not expecting him to begin this as roughly as he was. However, it wasn’t as though you were complaining. His hands slid under your shirt, grasping your waist. It wasn’t long before both of your shirts were off, and Jeno’s hot mouth trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck. He was craving you, and you found yourself completely under his control. Just a small touch was enough to get you riled up any further, at this point.

When he bit down on your neck, his lips suctioning to a certain spot, your fingers grasped onto his shoulders a bit more. “Jeno,” you sighed, “don’t stop.”

“Babygirl,” he gave you a half-smile, worse than a smirk, since you could see the power you knew he had over you. “Why don’t we make this interesting, hm? The first one to make noise, loses.”

“Okay, and what does the loser have to do?”

His eyes were lust-filled when they locked with yours. His voice was low and deep as he said, “Let’s just say that the loser will...they’ll have to explain to the boys what happened, if they ask.”

How funny, how he seemed to have thought it was going to be you who’d lose. Even still, you weren’t exactly quiet when you two had sex, but it wasn’t your fault how good Jeno made you feel. It wasn’t long before you both were completely bare, and your clothes were now haphazardly strewn across the room. The lack of patience between you two in that moment was imminent.

When his fingers met your core, a gasp almost slipped out of your lips, due to the shock of the sensation. Instead, you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet. Jeno slipped one of his long fingers inside of you. Your hands had once been on Jeno’s shoulders, but they were now balled up into the sheets, as though grasping onto something like that for dear life was going to prevent you from moaning out loud.

His fingers made squelching noises inside of you, showing the both of you how wet you already were for him. “My dirty babygirl,” Jeno hissed into your ear, “Look at you, so wet, just due to me rubbing your thigh. Or was it because you were in front of the members while I was doing that?” His words went directly to your core. Whenever Jeno degraded you in a situation, his deep voice saying such sinful words managed to do things to you. “Answer me, slut,” he hissed sexily.

“It was both,” you gasped out, realizing how you were holding your breath. Your hands made contact with Jeno’s strong, veiny arm, attempting to pull his fingers out of you. Him fingering you like this wasn’t fair, if you were both supposed to try not to moan.

“You wanted the boys to see what I was doing, huh? You wanted them to see you be a whimpering mess, just at the expense of my fingers? If you want them to know how much of a slut you are for my cock, you can just moan now. It’s easier, isn’t it? Because I’m NOT gonna make this easy on you.” His slight degradation only increased your arousal. You weren’t gonna lose this challenge. Then again, Jeno was competitive, and he wouldn’t be easy competition.

He entered you harshly, pushing himself in all at once. His member stretched you out perfectly, creating a mix of pain and pleasure. You bit down on your lip, a whine stuck in the back of your throat.

This wasn’t easy for Jeno, either. He was pounding into you rapidly, feeling your wet, velvety walls engulf his entire member, clenching around it so tightly. He’d pull out before slamming back in, creating the steady sound of skin slapping against skin. No moans filled the room.

His large size filled you up so perfectly, harshly pressing against every spot inside of you. You were in heaven, feeling as though you were flying, lost in the pleasure. Your legs wrapped around his waist, granting him a new angle as he thrusted even more deeply.

When his tip found your g-spot, hitting it straight on, you screwed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw to stifle a scream. It was a sharp, powerful jolt of pleasure, almost forcing you to cry out. He was fucking you so hard, so powerfully and quickly, to the point where you were in heaven. If your fingers ached from clutching the bedsheets, you couldn’t tell, for your entire body was filled with adrenaline. It felt so good, so impossibly amazing, and the fact that you couldn’t moan out his name was killing you. You just held your breath, positive you were red in the face.

Jeno’s eyes were screwed shut, clenching his teeth as he held back his groans. Your clenching walls sent him flying in physical euphoria, but he had made up the horrible challenge of remaining completely silent. When he opened his eyes to look at you, he noticed the tears running down your face.

You weren’t gonna last long. Usually, you and Jeno weren’t too sensitive, and it took awhile to bring you to your edge. However, his roughness was present, and it was sending you to Cloud 9. The tears running down your face were out of pleasure; he was really fucking you that good.

The knot in your stomach barely even had time to make itself known to your consciousness. Your back arched off the bed, toes, curling, and now your fingernails were scratching his back, trying to find support as you climaxed hard. “Jeno!” you practically screamed, unable to hold back a second longer. Your walls caved in around him, clenching so tightly to the point where he bit his lip so hard, he feared it would draw blood.

“I-it’s too much!” you sobbed out, helpless under him as he continued to pound into you, overstimulating you.

“You’re gonna be my cumslut and take every single drop of my cum.” It was a quickly said sentence, and you knew that he was struggling to hold back his moans.

You had given up awhile ago, and instead let your cries of pleasure loose into the air, unconsciously bringing him closer to the edge.

When he climaxed, painting your walls with his seed, a few harsh groans left his mouth and they were louder than they usually were. You felt so incredibly full, and your chest heaved as Jeno’s hips came to a stop.

“That’s probably the fastest I’ve ever done that,” you panted, still in awe of how perfect that was.

“Done what? Cum?”

“Yeah, damn. That was perfect, and I was literally crying from how good I felt. The fact that I couldn’t open my mouth and moan or even sigh was killing me. When I came, I couldn’t hold those moans back.”

“Neither could I,” Jeno admitted. “I’m pretty sure they heard us.” A fatigued laugh escaped his lips, warming your heart as you hugged your boyfriend.

Admittedly, you didn’t mind the fact that the boys heard you. Maybe it would send a message that the movie sucked. Also, you really couldn’t regret anything about what had just happened.

“You guys couldn’t keep your hands off of each other for two hours?” Chenle asked as you both quietly walked back into the movie room. They were all staring at you, shocked by what they had heard, which they really hadn’t expected.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” you said, putting your hands up, “Jeno started it. He put his hand on my thigh and practically told me, ‘I’m horny. Let’s go into the nearest room with a lock.’”

“Oh, shut up, you didn’t regret it. In fact, you enjoyed it. I’m sure the boys could hear it,” Jeno pointed out.

“Were you even trying to be quiet?” Renjun rolled his eyes. We were trying to watch the movie, but instead, we had to listen to that.”

You and Jeno just looked at each other, before the two of you burst out laughing. They had no idea.

#nct dream smut #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #00 line smut #jeno #lee jeno #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct #nct imagines #00 line imagines #ask #thanks for the ask!#smut prompts #dialogue prompt #prompt list #we_will_winwin

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wissbby · 3 years

Text

My gratitude.

First things first: a very happy new year! This year has been one of the rockiest years for most of all. May the new year be filled with brightness and hope so that darkness and sadness stay away from you. I love you and please stay safe while enjoying this night.

To my followers

Much thanks to every individual who has tailed me on Tumblr and indeed read my posts. I am fortunate to have all of you and to share my considerations. This year was tough for everyone, including me and I want to thank all of you for being so patient with me and staying with me. There will never be enough words to express my appreciation and love towards all of you. I love you! May this year be yours.

To my first love, Neva ― @miitsurii

I know I’m not the easiest friend to exist and I want to thank you first for putting up with my shit. You truly are an angel sent from heaven. I’m thankful for every moment we get to share together (though, those are mostly online because a bitch doesn’t leave her house). We’ve known each other since we were little toddlers. I literally can’t imagine my life without you in it. Thank you for always being by my side, Neva. The fucking love of my life. I love you, I love you a whole lot.

To my little one, Fizzy ― @katsuriin

We haven’t known each other that long but it feels like I know you like the back of my hand. I’m proud of you, Fizzy. So very proud. I know things are hard but you’re so strong to get through it all. And I’m always here to hold your hand through it all. You’re always there to hear me whether I was cracking a stupid joke, complaining about life, or just blabbering. Thanks for being a non-judgmental listener and a true friend. I love you lots, little fox.

To my pretty baby, Lex ― @zukosankle

Where do I even start? Princess, you never fail to make me smile. Your presence is a blessing. From your bald memes to your supportive messages, I appreciate it all. I’m incredibly thankful to have met you this year. I hope we will make many more beautiful moments and meet fairly soon! I love you, pretty princess.

To my sweetheart, Tee ― @teeyoomi

Tee, let me start off by saying how fucking much I love being surrounded by your energy. It’s so contagious and you never fail to make me laugh. I’m proud of you too. Life gets rough but you manage to get back on your feet every single time. You’re so strong, love. Thank you for being there for me as well, I hope you know the feeling will forever be mutual. I love you, sweetheart. Let’s have many more brain rot hours.

To the love of my life, Mila ― @kurooskult

Mila, you already made me cry this morning but I love you nonetheless. Times can be tricky and life gets hard. However, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met in my life and I hope you see that yourself, too. I wish to give you so much more than just a thank you note for being the beautiful person you are. I will forever remain by your side and be there for you whenever you need me, love. You manage to make me smile by just popping up on my phone. I’m unbelievably thankful to have met you this year. Let’s go through many more years together. I love you, my love.

To my dear lovebug, Cupid ― @yamagucji

Cupid- sigh, where do I start? I love the chaotic energy you always manage to create with me. We’ve been moots for a pretty long while but decided to bond over inedible flower soup and muddy pie (which we still have to make together and eat too). I’m incredibly thankful for everything you’ve done for me. Sending you every bit of love that I have in my little body. I love you, you little lovebug.

To my little angel, Val ― @cutiekawa

Little angel, Val. I know we haven’t talked that much yet but from the little interactions we’ve already had, I can tell you’re a wonderful person inside and outside. Your happy vibes never fail to boost up my mood and turn my phone off without a smile. Thank you for letting us be moots. I wish you a very healthy and good year, my little angel. I love you.

To my housepet, Ollie ― @astrooliver

It has only been two to three days and I’m head over heels in love with you. I’m looking forward to our trip to Morocco to ride those horses with pretty scenery and feeding your tiny goats. Let’s make some more memories and enjoy every moment we share together.

To my ball of energy, Runa ― @kageruna

I live for your energy, my god. Whenever I see you pop on my screen, I already know I will be left with a fat smile curled into my lips. I hope we will get to know each other even more because you seem like such a sweet and fun person to be around. Thank you, Runa, for these beautiful memories.

To those I haven’t tagged, I’m sorry, hehe. Today has been hectic and very busy but that doesn’t mean I love any of you any less. I love you and I wish all of you stay safe and have a healthy new year with the people you love. I looooooooooooove youuuu <3

#wiss.babbles #Happy new year!#May 2021 bring you a whole lot of joy #I love all of youuuuu #<3

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tonystarkstan · 5 years

Text

When Peter goes off to college, it’s an adjustment for both him and Tony.

The first time Peter goes an entire day without at least texting Tony, the man freaks out. Immediately assuming the worst, he puts on his suit and literally flies to MIT in a panic, sure that his kid is hurt.

Tony finds him eating Cook-Out in a study room in the library, except the kid isn’t studying. He and a couple other boys Tony doesn’t recognize have blankets on the floor with a laptop out in front of them. They’re watching The Incredibles 2.

Needless to say, Tony can’t help but feel embarassed for days afterwards, especially with May and Pepper constantly laughing and reminding him what a mother hen he is. The kid is growing up - he doesn’t need to talk to Tony constantly. Something in the man’s chest aches a little at that.

The second time it happens, the kid hasn’t talked to him in four days and he’s not answering Tony’s calls. When he fails to respond to May’s texts and calls, they decide together that they’re allowed to worry.

Tony wastes no time in booking it to the university, heart racing as he thinks of all the reasons why Peter would go four whole days without contacting anyone.

Maybe he’s being bullied and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Maybe he tried to patrol and he’s lying somewhere, hurt. Oh god, maybe he’s been kidnapped and Tony should have left much sooner and maybe -

He has the flu.

Tony bursts into the kid’s room, only to wrinkle his nose at the telltale smell of Sick Teenage Boy. The kid is curled up on his bed, fast asleep with a bucket beside him on the floor. Tony winces in sympathy, immediately sending a text to May and Pepper.

Spider kid has the spider bug. Haha, get it? Anyway, once I get things cleaned up here, I’ll fly him back. I’m sure his roommate will appreciate it.

After those two initial incidents, May, Tony, and Peter sit down and have a discussion. Actually, mostly it’s just Peter trying to tell Tony that the man has “attachment issues” and needs to stop being “a total mother hen.” The kid smiles, though, and Tony knows the concern is appreciated, if not always necessary.

They do decide that Peter will text if he needs anything and will send a message every couple of days just to reassure them that he’s okay (“Can you even blame me? The kid always finds a way to get hurt!”). If not, Tony’s allowed to come running.

It’s a system that works, for the most part.

But this time, it progresses differently. After three days, Tony just assumes the kid has forgotten. Peter’s gotten a lot more involved, joining various clubs and taking on different volunteer positions. It’s not surprising that he’s not finding as much time to socialize with May and Tony.

After the fourth day, May tries calling him and leaves a voicemail. Peter doesn’t call back, and May can’t help but worry. This time, though, it’s Tony who laughs and says, “You’ve been spending too much time around me. Kid’s probably playing some sort of nerd drinking game.”

She worries at her lip, a bad feeling in her gut, but she shrugs, figuring the man’s right. “You would know, wouldn’t you?” she teases, pushing her worry aside.

Once the weekend hits, though, worry starts to settle deep into Tony’s chest. He calls Peter again, frowning when it cuts off mid-ring. His calls are being intentionally ignored.

Tony calls one last time.

“Uh, heya, Pete,” he says, trying to go for nonchalant and completely failing. “Listen, I know you’re a Big Kid now, but your old man has heart problems, and your Aunt Hottie is too pretty to have these worry lines on her face. Just, uh, at least text us to let us know you’re okay.”

Tony waits. And waits and waits and waits, getting all the more agitated by the minute. May is at work, but he can’t wait any longer, a pit of dread opening up in his stomach, and he shoots her a quick text.

Going to check on our kid.

He makes it to the school in record time, wasting no time before hacking his way into the building.

This time, he stops outside of Peter’s room before bursting in. Despite the tight knot of worry, they had agreed that Tony would learn to give Peter space to grow. Sometimes not rushing in is the only way to do that.

Tony listens for a moment, heart stopping when he hears it:

The sound of someone crying. Of Peter crying.

Tony tosses privacy out the window and opens the door, aching at the sight before him. Much like last time, Peter is curled into a tight ball on his bed, but this time, he’s flipping through pages of the scrapbook May had given him for graduation, the only light in the room coming through the cracks in the closed blinds.

Peter doesn’t even look up when Tony walks in, and somehow, that’s even worse than what Tony had pictured. He quietly walks forward and sits on the edge of the kid’s bed, watching as Peter flips the page to a picture of Tony getting dunked for charity.

Tony smiles fondly at the memory. Peter was taking part in a charity event through the school, and he’d begged Tony to sit in the dunking booth and let high school students try to hit the target to send Iron Man falling into the icy water.

Peter, the snarky brat, had done it four times, and succeeded every time. Pepper made sure to capture all of it.

Tony gently places a hand on the kid’s head, sifting through the curls as a lone tear traces its way down Peter’s cheek.

“That was a good day,” Tony says, nodding to the photo, and Peter looks at him then, not even bothering to brush the tear away.

He looks at Tony with a look the man doesn’t quite understand, something sad and nostalgic in a way Tony’s not sure he’s ever felt.

Peter’s lower lip trembles, eyes filling with tears again as he leans into Tony’s touch.

“I miss it,” he croaks, voice rough with disuse, and Tony has the alarming realization that it’s probably been days since Peter’s spoken to anyone, if his room is anything to go by.

There are empty containers of Mac n cheese cups on the desk, and his book bag is slung haphazardly off his chair. The room is tinged with the smell of Teenage Boy, and Tony ventures tonguess that it’s been a couple days since the kid’s showered.

Peter’s a mess.

“Me too,” Tony confesses softly, hating the way Peter’s hand trembles as he flips to the next page. They both look at the picture of MJ giving Peter a piggy-back ride while Ned laughs at whatever Peter’s said.

“I want to go home,” Peter says quietly, and Tony’s two seconds away from scooping the kid up and whisking him back to Queens.

“Done. We can go right now,” Tony immediately tells him, but Peter shakes his head. Tony studies him, confused. “I don’t - talk to me, bud. Why have you been ignoring our calls?”

Peter sniffles again, a pained sound, and it’s all Tony can do not to pull Peter into his lap like a little kid.

“I just - I just - I have to grow up some time, don’t I?”

He looks up at Tony with red-rimmed eyes, and he looks so sad and so tired that this time, Tony doesn’t even hold back. He gently pries the scrapbook from Peter’s grasp and shifts so that his back is against the wall, tugging Peter’s upper body into his lap.

“Pete, no,” Tony says gently, and the kid answers by hiding his face against Tony’s thigh. “I mean, yeah, but just because you’re away doesn’t mean that you can’t talk to us anymore.”

Peter slings an arm across Tony’s legs, effectively holding his mentor in place as Tony continues to tug soothingly at his hair.

“I know, but. I can’t. I can’t talk to you without missing home,” Peter whispers quietly, and Tony melts.

“Oh, kid.”

He should have known Peter would be missing them as much as they miss Peter.

“You know you can come home whenever you need to, right? Happy and I are always willing to come get you if your aunt can’t,” Tony tells him, and Peter smiles softly.

“I know.” He sighs heavily. “But. Home’s not really the same anymore, either. I want things to be how they used to be. I miss Ned and MJ and movie nights at the Compound and Thai dates with May and patrol through Queens.”

Peter’s throat closes up with a emotion, and he swallows thickly before continuing. “It’s not the same.”

Objectively, Tony gets it. But he never had a home to miss the way Peter does. Never really had a home worth missing. Not until Peter and Pepper and May.

“I know, bud,” Tony murmurs, massaging Peter’s head gently in just the right way. “It’s never going to be the way it was,” he agrees, and Peter makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat.

“But,” Tony continues, “these things?” He gestures to the scrapbook at their side. “You harassing me and vice versa? Laughs with MJ and Ned? Thai dates with May? Those are never really going to go away. We miss you too, kiddo.”

Peter nods, tears spilling over as he shifts himself so he’s laying on Tony’s chest, Tony’s arm wrapping firmly around his shoulder.

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter says, offering him a watery smile, and Tony squeezes him just a little tighter.

“Anytime, kid.”

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ittakesrain · 4 years

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The storm has subsided (mostly)

I guess it’s like a pendulum. It goes from one extreme to the other, oscillating with all that energy being saved up and used between swings, whizzing by its equilibrium position, giving me whiplash as I try to keep up and get my head on straight. But eventually, the momentum, which is thankfully not conserved, slows it down and it stops.

Basically, when I’m coming out of a period of what I call “I just lost my goddamn mind,” it becomes more spread out. Less intense, I guess, although yesterday’s random panic attack was pretty insane. But today has been fine, and tomorrow might be a little iffy, but then the next day will most likely be fine. And so on.

That’s exhausting in its own right because I’ve said a billion times that I’d rather just feel shitty than feel shitty with periods of feeling okay. I don’t like being teased like that. Unfortunately, I don’t have control over how it works (ugh).

I don’t think I have to explain that in the darkest depths of my depressions, I physically cannot find any good, any meaning, any safe thought to rest on. “Just being positive” is not an option because my thoughts are spinning painfully fast and I am totally unable to fathom how I’ve every functioned and how I’ll ever be able to function again. It’s all-consuming, omnipresent dread.

(Sidenote: someone literally tried to pull the whole “just be positive” bullshit on me the other day, and then proceeded to tell me about people who have it worse than I do but still have better attitudes than me…needless to say, I was not very happy…I didn’t even bother to explain how utterly wrong she was because why waste the little energy I somehow still had?)

Howeverrrrr, now that I don’t feel like death warmed over, I’m using the time to do what I always fucking do and value the semi-calm and pretend there’s meaning in this bullshit (okay, I’m still a bit negative, but go with me here). I’ve done this countless times before, but hey, why not do it again? Maybe thinking this way and preparing for the eventual and inevitable next-time will finally be of use. Fingers crossed. Anyway, here’s a list.

How to survive the bad days

1. Just don’t

Don’t bother. Don’t try. Don’t waste precious energy. It can wait. It will have to wait. It has no choice but to wait. I’m not talking about literally everything by saying this. Obviously there are some responsibilities we can’t totally hide from. But don’t add shit to your to-do list that you don’t have to. Cut out literally everything you can cut out. Another way to phrase this might be “get your priorities straight.” And, my main point, I guess, is to not beat yourself up about not. Survival mode is difficult enough. Give yourself credit.

2. Maintain your body one thing at a time

There are things human beings hafta do to like, be human beings. We need to take care of ourselves. Use the car analogy or whatever, cars require maintenance, bodies do too. There’s lots to do though, and right now you don’t wanna do any of them. So maybe choose one thing and then feel good that you’ve done that thing and then stop trying to do more things because #depressionisexhausting amirite? Choose from the following: wash your face, brush your teeth, have a glass of water, stretch your body, take a shower, change your clothes, open a window and get some fresh air, eat something with some sort of nutritional value

3. Ask for help

Why face the monsters from the hell that is your brain alone? You literally don’t have to. People love you, they’re there to support you (it’s true; your depression and anxiety are lying to you, those worthless motherfuckers). I might be guilty of asking too many people for help (usually), which is bad because there’s so much input coming in, not all of it valuable or helpful, and it’s overwhelming (and I’m already overwhelmed). This round I kinda just kept to myself and didn’t answer any texts or messages because I had no brainpower to figure out how to describe this bs yet again, let alone figure out how to put words together). But when I finally thought to call one person, it was actually helpful. And I dunno, they say talking helps in general? So yeah.

4. If you can do it, do it

If you can open your Pinterest app and find an inspirational quote, do it. If you can summon the will to put a single dish from the sink into the dishwasher, do it. If you can try to quiet your mind, try to breathe deeply in spite of the anguish, do it. If you can’t, refer to point #1 and don’t. You’ll be able to at one point or another, so just wait it out. I think giving up and not doing shit you can actually do makes things worse, though (duh).

5. Be miserable all around the house

I assume you’ve been laying in bed all day. Maybe you’re crying or maybe you’re totally catatonic. Whatever the case may be, try to be miserable somewhere else. Sit on your couch and cry or stare blankly into space. Sit on the floor and curl into a ball there as opposed to on a comfier surface. Feel the pain in the kitchen. Drag yourself to the bathroom and feel the weight of the world there, instead. I think not staying in one place helps trigger some sort of something good in our brains. Might be totally wrong. But maybe you’ll be less bored (on top of your crippling depression).

6. Go to sleep then be awake, repeat

I basically slept whenever I could this episode. It started with insomnia, of course (hypomania always starts with that and violent irritability, both of which are just…so unpleasant). But when I got sick enough of that I’d take Benadryl and shit to knock myself out. Dunno if that was wise, please don’t take my idiotic advice without talking to your doc. But sleeping/ not being conscious while I waited it out? Sounded good to me. Buttttt I think next time (ughhhhh next time) I’ll try to be awake when I’m awake. Not saying I’m not gonna sleep my days away. God knows I can’t make that promise. But like. There’s a certain something about being an awake and alert entity that seems helpful.

Right

Has this been helpful? Probably not to read, but it’s been helpful to write. Am I going to remember these “tips” when major depression crashes into me like the meteor that caused the ice age? Probably not. Why did I write this then? Eh, why not.

#bipolar #bipolar disorder #depression #anxiety #hypomanic #bipolar mania #actuallybipolar #actually bipolar #depression tips #tips #advice #mental illness #mental illness recovery #mood disorder #writing

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sunlightdances · 6 years

Text

give me butterflies

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Rating: M. Warnings/genre: A tiny bit of smut + soft!Sebastian. Brief mentions of insecurity and general angst from the reader. Summary: No one knows about you and Sebastian yet. Inspired by his look from the I, Tonya premiere at TIFF. Author’s Note: I wrote this mostly on my phone, so forgive any mistakes. Also: I don’t own this gif, so credit to the owner (if you’d like me to take it down/replace it with something else, please message me!) Lyrics in the title are from “Butterflies” by Kacey Musgraves.

It’s late when he gets home. The jingle of his keys draws you out of dozing on the couch, and you prop yourself up on an elbow to see him as he comes into view.

His suit jacket is off, his bow tie undone and hanging around his neck. His hair is still perfect and you sigh almost unconsciously, wondering how on earth you’re here right now, with him. Some days you really wonder why he even looks twice at you.

When he wanders into the living room, his entire face softens when he sees you, a smile blooming on his face. “Hey.”

“Hi, handsome.” You grin at him, watching as he gets embarrassed, his smile growing. “I saw a few pictures. Looked like a great night.”

He crouches down next to the couch, hand reaching out and smoothing back your hair. “It was fun. This movie— this is really more than I ever expected.” A blush steals across his cheeks and it’s so endearing you can’t help but lean and press a kiss to his cheek, the smell of his aftershave reminding you of nights spent curled up together on the couch, and rainy days spent browsing bookstores and stealing kisses in the aisles.

“I’m proud of you.”

“I— thank you. Really. That means a lot to me.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I gotta get out of this suit.”

“Let me help.” You say, sitting up and letting him pull you to your feet. He’s a good few inches taller than you, and you can’t help but rake your gaze over him again, taking in the crisp white of his shirt, and the way it contrasts with his dark stubble and tanned skin from his recent trip with his friends.

He follows you to his bedroom and stands patiently, a small smile on his face as you slowly undo the buttons on his shirt. As much as you pretty much always want to undress him, this is more symbolic than it is erotic, though you can’t help but lean in and press a hot kiss to his throat, smiling at the soft noise he makes.

The shirt comes off, as does the bow tie, and you work on getting everything back on hangers and in the dry cleaner bag as he gets dressed in a pair of comfy sweatpants and t-shirt.

“There you are,” you say softly when he turns around. Now, like this, he’s just Sebastian. All the evidence of his glamorous night is stripped away, and he’s just the guy you met in Starbucks months ago who melted you on the spot with his smile and a corny joke.

“Come here,” he whispers, the air between you suddenly charged, and he sits on the edge of the bed as you take a few steps to close the distance, his hands finding your hips and the smooth skin there.

Your hands go to his hair immediately, smoothing a few errant strands away. In this light, you can see the faint circles under his eyes and the way his smile doesn’t quite stretch as far as it could. “You’re tired.”

He shakes his head, “Never too tired for this.” He presses a quick kiss to your stomach, goosebumps appearing at the touch of his lips.

This-- this thing between the two of you, it happened fast. Fast, and intense, and the best time of your life. There’s only a small handful of people who know about the two of you. You’re really careful not to get photographed together, and even though Sebastian asked you to come with him tonight, you declined. It’s not like you don’t want to be there with him, to support him on nights like this. It’s everything else that goes with it.

You’re terrified to be in the spotlight like that. You already struggle with anxiety and self esteem issues, and you’re worried that a few negative comments will be all it takes for Sebastian to see what everyone else sees -- he doesn’t belong with someone like you.

So you take moments like these seriously, you savor every little intimate moment with him that you can get.

“Distracted?” He asks, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “I must not be doing this right.” His tone is wry.

“No, no, sorry. I’m just--”

“Distracted,” he repeats. He tilts his head, “I know you. Something’s bothering you.”

Frustration wells up inside of you. You don’t want to have this conversation. It’ll ruin the fairy tale that’s been the last few months of your life.

“Hey,” his voice is deep, concerned, and you flush when you realize a tear slipped down your cheek unbidden. “What is it? Did I-- did I do something?”

“No!” You wipe your face. “No, I-- it’s nothing, it’s stupid. I don’t want to ruin your night.”

He scoffs, “Shut up,” he chides gently. “This premiere isn’t more important than this. Than you.” His hand glides up your neck until he can tilt your head down a bit. “Look at me,” and his voice is so gentle. “If something is bothering you, it’s important to me.”

You take a step back, suddenly feeling like you’re too close. “I-- this is why I didn’t want to have this conversation. Tonight is your night, and you shouldn’t be worrying about me--”

“Wait, wait.” He stands up, “First of all, I don’t care what tonight is. If something’s not right, I want to help. Whatever you need, I’m here. Whenever. Even if I’ve got an event.”

“Are you upset that I didn’t go with you?” You ask, surprising yourself. Right out with it, you guess.

He blinks slowly, recoiling a bit. “No!” At your look of disbelief, he repeats, “No, I’m not upset. Is that what’s bothering you? You thought I was mad at you?”

You take a step closer, reaching for his hand. You see the tense line of his shoulders and hate that you’re making him feel like this. “You deserve someone who can be right there, right by your side, supporting you. Not me-- I’m too... I’m too scared--”

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this.” He ducks down a bit so he can meet your eyes. “I want you any way I can get you. You want to get a fancy dress on and walk a carpet with me? You got it. You want to hang out in my apartment on the couch until I get home? Then that’s what we’ll do. I don’t care about having people see--”

“Even if we have to sneak around when we go out to eat? Even when you notice that I get nervous even getting coffee with you?”

He looks stunned. “I don’t care about any of that, as long as I’ve got you here at the end of the day, with me. I don’t care, baby.” His hands frame your face and you struggle not to burst into tears. “I,” he kisses your forehead, “want,” then your cheek, “you.”

“You could have anyone you wanted.” You mumble.

“I don’t want anyone else.” His voice is fierce. “Listen - you know what I love about you the most?” Your throat feels tight at the tone of his voice. “I love that when I’m with you, I’m just me. You’re so--” He wavers a bit, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “You make me feel normal, you make me feel home.”

At that, you do start crying. You try to stop it, but you can’t, and he gathers you up against his chest, murmuring words of comfort into your ear. You don’t know how on earth you got this lucky.

Once you’ve calmed down, he’s got you in his lap on the bed. “Can I tell you something?” He asks.

You nod.

“You know I’ve-- I’ve dated other actresses before. We’ve gone to events together, gone home and talked about work, and I... I always wondered what the hell was wrong with me that I could never make any of those relationships work.” He takes a deep breath. “When I met you, I finally figured it out.”

“Seb--”

“When I met you, the whole fucking world stopped. You spilled a whole damn coffee on me and all I could think about was that I had to know your name. I had to meet you, talk to you, make sure that I could see you again.” He kisses your cheek. “And then I did see you again, and we talked about literally everything but my job. I can count on one hand the amount of times we’ve talked about my job at home, and you know what? I love that. Sure, I’d love to see you all dolled up and at an event with me. But if that never happens, I’d still love you.”

He leans in before you can respond, kissing you hard, your brain buzzing at his words. He loves you? You respond in kind, hands threading through his hair and not breaking away until you desperately need to take a breath.

“I love you, too.” You whisper, and his grin is blinding.

He quickly rolls until he’s on top of you, one of his long legs sliding between yours, and starts trailing kisses down your neck, a moan spilling from your mouth as his stubble scratches the sensitive spot below your ear.

“Besides,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear, “The day I get you at an event with me and see you in a ball gown, I’ll probably have a fucking heart attack on the spot.”

You laugh loudly, and he grins at you before ducking back down, pulling the straps of your tank top over your shoulders until he gets it scrunched up by your waist, a groan leaving him when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. “Baby...”

You shrug. “I was planning on going to bed.”

“Cheeky.” He says before his mouth closes around one breast, causing you to arch against him, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle your cries. “Don’t,” he growls, “I want to hear you.”

He finds every sensitive spot with his mouth until you’re absolutely writhing underneath him, and frantically shoving at the hem of his shirt until he rips it over his head. The skin on skin contact makes you both moan, and somehow you find the strength to catch him as he’s distracted and hook a leg over his, flipping him onto his back.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, watching you above him. Your hands go to the waist of his sweats, and as you tug them down, his eyes shut, the anticipation clearly getting to him.

When your mouth closes around him, his hips thrust up automatically, and you can hear him apologizing above you, his hands helping keep your hair out of your face so he can watch you.

You circle him with your tongue before sucking gently, his chest punching up and down as he struggles to catch his breath. “Please,” he groans, “Come here, come here, I want to be inside of you.”

His voice is so wrecked, you can’t help but oblige him, crawling up his body to kiss him, open-mouthed and desperate. He positions you above him just right until you can sink down onto him, your mouth falling open as he fills you.

“God damn,” he gasps, and you reach for his hands, lacing your fingers together.

“I love you,” you groan, and his eyes fly open at your words, the ocean blue of his irises almost entirely swallowed by black.

“I love you so fucking much.” He starts to thrust up into you then, the rhythm he sets so slow and heavy that you feel like you might start crying all over again.

There’s no words after that, just your moans and groans filling up the room as he makes you feel like liquid fire is running through your veins. You can feel him start to falter as he gets close, and his hands grip your hips to keep you in place as he finally comes, you coming right behind him.

After a few minutes, he catches his breath. “So...” he starts, “It was the bow tie, right? Be honest.”

“You’re the worst.”

He grins, pulling you close to kiss you, “You’re perfect.” He laughs at your blush. “I’m going to spend the rest of your life telling you that, so get used to it.”

Your heart clenches at his words, the thought of a future with him more than you could ever hope for.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader

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fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

Note

Please tell me more about Reuenthal/Yang, I have never considered this ship before (Reinhard/Yang is my usual poison of choice) but now I can't stop thinking about it. I need AUs! And canon-divergence! And - please just tell me as many ways this could happen as you can, in as much detail as possible!

howdy anon friend i am fajsdofjsaf. honoured that you are considering my tiny lil raft ship and just HELLO

but really. you have certainly come to the right place! i am here to fulfil all of your AU and canon-divergence needs :D

beneath this cut you shall find TRASH wonder and MORE TRASH all your dreams come to life

alright let’s start with canon-divergence because this one is slightly less quantity and quality because canon fic is really hard??? (and also i am admittedly writing one right now and i don’t wanna give away too much :3????)

logh has all these cool plot points where the outcome changes depending on the action the character in question takes!!!!

ie. what if yang took schonkopf with him to meet with reinhardt the second time?

or like. what if yang disobeyed the orders from hq to stop the battle of vermillion?

or, my personal favourite, what if yang decided that schonkopf was right and then basically declared iserlohn an independent entity and the thirteenth fleet + iserlohn basically divorced themselves from the fpa????

seriously though. do you think either faction could’ve taken the fortress back by force? reinhardt probably eventually could, but in his best interests, he leaves yang alone and goes to crush the fpa first, then comes back to negotiate a truce.

but anyway, we’re here to talk about my favourite thing in the world - reuenthal/yang, so i’ll leave my crying about what if canon for later.

CANON DIVERGENCE REUENTHAL/YANG.

i don’t have much on this because i’ve yet to finish the source material but i will have. more. one. day. (i hope)

also pls note that i’m not big on plot beyond trashy fluff, so this is probably stupendously ooc and i can’t fix it just let me have my otp pls asofmsaodfijas

1. the star crossed lovers thing - where reuenthal accompanied kircheis to negotiate the exchange of prisoners with the fpa. and it’s literally love at first sight for him with yang and yang’s not. disagreeable because reuenthal is beautiful and he can be charming af when he wants to be (and he really wants to charm yang lbr)

after kircheis and reuenthal return to odin, reuenthal starts moping about the admiral’s big brother house and eventually caves and talks to mittermeyer about his pure hearted admiration of yang where in mittermeyer stares flatly at reuenthal and tells him ‘you’re pining like one of those heroines you detest from the classics’ and reuenthal is so Offended TM by this he sulks off to the officer’s bar and drowns his sorrows until he becomes drunk enough to admit that hey, mittermeyer really knows him too well.

so the next day, very hung over, reuenthal starts sending letters (or more likely, electronic communications) to the 13th fleet with flowery poetry and declarations of his feelings and shit. and at the start, the 13th fleet kind of think he’s up to something nefarious. but then they just realise reuenthal actually really is just pathetically in love with yang and so for the good of all mankind, they just ‘accidentally delete’ every single message before it makes it to yang.

no one expects that reuenthal eventually (cos that boy has no chill, like me) literally rolls up and parks his goddamned flagship next to the hyperion when the tristan is supposed to be passing nearby one day and demands to know why yang hasn’t been basically texting him back and then yang is like ‘??????????????? wat’ and then everyone in the 13th fleet, from schonkopf down to julian have a LOT OF EXPLAINING to do. (cazerne pretended to know nothing and washed his hands of the whole thing from the start because the less he knows about these sort of things the more sane he can stay okay).

eventually reinhardt gets sick of reuenthal moping about odin and shoos him off to be the consul of heinessen and reuenthal just continues to woo yang (now in person!!!) by showing off whenever he can even when it’s stupidly inappropriate with the inbuilt optimism of being a good looking and popular dude that everything will work out eventually and one day yang will just cave and say ‘fine.’ (spoiler alert, he does)

2. post-vermillion - actually this is 90% what my fic is about so i’m not going to say a lot about it. you’ll get to read this eventually as a proper-ish fic in a month or two (pray for me pls, it’s currently 7000 words and nowhere near done).

but consider. if yang and reuenthal met after the alliance surrendered. hm. Hm. HMMMMMMMMM. with added shenanigans from my favourite admirals from the empire and fpa sides :D

AU REUENTHAL/YANG

I FRIGGEN LOVE AU.

i’ve already talked about my ‘what if yang was born in the empire’ au, and briefly covered my college/university au where reuenthal social media stalks yang in a non-creepy way until he grows enough balls to just ask him out.

but, i was also yelling a lot at @beingevil today cos she brought up an actor au, but she’ll be writing that one so i’ll leave it up to her (WINK WONK)

other AUs to be considered:

1. history professor!yang & hitman!reuenthal - someone (probably fucking job trunicht) puts a hit out on yang and reuenthal is assigned to the job and he stakes out yang for a few days and yang is just like a small defenseless animal????? how can he murder a small, defenseless animal like that?? and gosh he’s super cute too??? he’s so my type!!!!!??? so he can’t pull the trigger and instead reuenthal goes on the run with yang and they uncover conspiracies against the government and then they put trunicht into prison and live happily ever after?

2. coffee shop au - where yang owns a coffee shop and reuenthal is a lawyer/business person who comes in to buy coffee, but in reality is here to perv on yang and also everyone in the shop (customers and staff alike) knows this except for yang who thinks reuenthal is a really nice guy and ‘julian, don’t you think reuenthal is just so friendly. he seems to really like leaning close to you when he talks and his voice is so deep and his eyes are so striking and he’s really handsome ???’ and julian sighs and goes to make himself another three expresso shots just to get through the rest of the hour

3. hogwarts au - where reuenthal is a slytherin, who’s bffls with a gryffindor (mittermeyer) and yang is the laziest ravenclaw ever sorted and did you know his best subject is a history of magic which everyone else hates??? so like they have potions together (because they’re the same age and so they would be in the same year level!!) and reuenthal thought that yang would be HELPFUL but there’s a reason yang consistently almost fails everything but history which is that he literally comes into class and then curls into a ball and then GOES TO SLEEP. so imagine reuenthal’s DESPAIR when he gets paired up with yang for astronomy as well? it’s his shittiest subject because ew astronomy??? and they’re assigned to do their major project together. but it doesn’t turn out as bad as he imagines. instead, they slowly develop ~feelings~ because there’s cute midnight dates on the astronomy tower where they cuddle beneath a blanket together for ~warmth~ and share hot tea while they do their star charts. then eventually reuenthal talks yang into going to a quidditch match and vaguely cheering for slytherin because reuenthal is one of their star players. cue attenborogh being thoroughly distressed by yang’s casual betrayal of his own house ‘but yang, you’ve never come to a single game in five years’ and yang replying ‘interhouse rivalry promotes antagonistic tendencies’ and wrapping himself up snugly with reuenthal’s green and white scarf.

honourable mentions go out to the following:

- hetalia!AU - where yang is the personification of the alliance and reuenthal falls in love with freedom

- soulmate!AU - where your soulmate’s name is written in their hand somewhere on your body & reuenthal’s been hiding his entire life because his name is written in alliance standard and yang just thinks that the curved lines across his arm is a really weird birthmark

- pokemon!AU - where yang is the most wtf gym leader ever and kind of just naps all day on a snorlax but no one’s been able to get a badge off him since he took the gym. reuenthal as an ambitious trainer who’s just missing THE ONE BADGE...

i actually have a heap more but i just. NEED TO CRY ABOUT THEM FOR A WHILE BECAUSE CANON IS MEAN TO ME

#ask me #anonymous #anon-friend you are best #reuyang #Anonymous

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micmicyoongis · 6 years

Text

So I’m going to rant here for a second

This isn’t kpop related and I would normally post this on my main blog but theres people on there that I don’t want to see this.

fucking

lonely.

I haven’t seen any of my friends in about a month?? I talk to them all the time but I haven’t actually seen them. I haven’t seen my bestest friend since November and I’m starting to get really worried. They rarely ever talk to me anymore unless they’re majorly upset or need validation in something/going through a massive depressive episode (which im chill with. I’m more than happy to be there for them when they’re going through that shit show) or whenever her boyfriend pisses them off. (who is also my friend that i havent seen in a couple months let alone talked to him much at all in that time). It’s really starting to get to me. I feel like I only used to vent and then they forget about me. Like if I message them (them being my bestest friend) they take forever to respond IF they do respond at all. And it’s not like I don’t make an effort to try and see them. I have been asking them so much over the past couple of weeks if they could come over for a little bit and I’ll get a response 5 or 6 hours later (its usually night time too btw) thats like “sorry I can’t. maybe next time” or they’ll say they want to work on cosplay with me but when I offer it never happens???? And I can tell it’s really starting to mess with me. I’ve lost a lot of motivation in things because they would always pump me up and I am just??? really suffering writing wise (the career I want to go in) because, like, their motivation and positive remarks kept me going but also their drive to help me fix any mistakes I made in my writing was just so helpful because no one else wanted to do that??? Now that I don’t have them I just cant write. And I’m not putting all of that one them because I need to take credit for my inability to write right now. Like, it’s not all their fault it’s mine too. I also haven't been getting out at all apart from work (which sucks oh my god I want to quit so bad but money and lack of motivation to find a job) so I have been sitting in my room all by myself for the past two months. Even my parents get out more than I do (and they’re a whole other issue I’m having right now that I really don’t want to get into). I literally just curled up into a ball the other day and started crying because I felt so alone.

Which kind of made me feel guilty because I had plans to go see one of my other friends this weekend. But alas I can’t go over now because my mom seems to think that this weekend just wont work out. After, you know, ive had this planned (WITH HER AGREEMENT BTW) for about a week now. Ive been so excited to see my friend and get out of the house and I have not been subtle about that either. I have exclaimed many times out loud about how excited I am about this.

So yeah. I feel bad for canceling plans with my friend (theyve been goign through a lot with thier doggo rn and really just needed someone to be there witht hem) and I’m also just mad because I’m going to be alone another night. (Literally all by myself, my parents are going out tonight which is why I assume that I can’t go to my friends house).

And on top of all of this. I just feel bad for complaining???? Like, a lot of these issues would be fixed if I just had my license (as I have been told multiple times by my parents) and I know that I should have one because I’m 18. But im so scared of driving??? and I can’t get my parents to understand that....anyways I’ve gone on long enough so I guess ill stop there. Sorry for all my ranting and such,,,,I just. Cant keep it bottled up anymore.

So anyways I could go on a lot more but I’ll spare all of you that.

I’m just feeling really lonely and had to get some of my shit off my chest.

Again sorry for this long ranty post.

#not kpop #im sad #and lonely #im tired of being an adult can i be thirteen again please #ranting #i speak #is that a tag even #i guess it is now

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mf-despair-queen · 7 years

Note

If you had to choose only one person to talk to on here for the rest of your time on tumblr who would it be ?

So I saw this when I woke up this morning. And have been staring at it all day because I literally do NOT know how to answer this. I talk to so many people (maybe not as many as I could or should) and I don’t know how I would be able to choose just ONE. I would feel bad choosing one person over the other because every conversation I have is different and unique and I cherish every second of it. It would literally break my heart to not have them all...

As a loophole, am I able to talk to people OUTSIDE of tumblr? Like, if they have my phone number or in other apps? lol.

TBH, the ones I would most likely choose from are the people I talk to pretty much every day. I can’t choose one though because I don’t have that capacity within me. @minhosmeanhoe, @ninja-stiles, @stilinski-jpeg and @sarcasticallystilinski are my babes and I always look forward to hearding from them at SOME POINT during the day. Their messages literally just bring smiles to my face whenever I heard my phone go off with a new message. I get so many laughs with them. And we could probably chat for hours on end if we could.

People I would consider because I love talking to them but I don’t hear from them nearly as much as I should (because I’m a horrible person and fear messaging people because I think I am an unloved bean) are people like @dumbass-stilinski, @dylan-trash-tbh, @thelittlestkitsune, @lovelydob, @lovefilledtragedy, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @maddie110201, @were-cheetah-stiles, @rememberstilinski, @ellie-bee242. I know I am probably missing a WHOLE lot but I love these people so much and would never wanna stop talking to them.

I completely avoided the main question. I know I did. But seriously, I would curl up in a ball and cry if I had to choose just one. ;-;

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deathishauntedbyhumans · 7 years

Text

I Don’t Want to Fall

TW: Panic attacks, suicide mentions, self-harm, abuse

Instead of texting a suicide hotline, Lance texts Keith, opening a door to a new life that he never could have possibly imagined. This was a... really good rp. A lot of emotion, a lot of angst.

Stranger: {TW: Mentions of Suicide, Can be wrong Number}   Hey, is this the suicide text line? LM  I've been hesitant to text in, but I need someone tonight. LM

You: [wrong number] What's going on?

Stranger: {...} I recognize this number. Who is this. LM

You: [...] Does it matter? You said you needed someone. I'm someone.

Stranger: It matters who it is. I know this number, it's not the one I meant. LM

You: [...] It's Keith. KK

Stranger: Fuck. LM

You: Look, I know you don't like me, but if you need to talk, you can. KK Those text hotlines aren't actually always that helpful. KK

Stranger: They have been before. LM And I don't dislike you, I just...Don't want you telling... LM

You: You must have better luck than I do, then. KK I'm not that big of a dick. I know that some things are sacred. KK

Stranger: No, they just call me a selfish sonofabitch for considering and guilt trip me out of it. LM And if you tell someone, cut you. LM

You: Yeah. That's what I meant about the whole "not that helpful" thing. KK I won't tell if you won't. KK

Stranger: Not like I have anyone to tell. LM

You: You have more friends than I do. KK

Stranger: Oh, not anymore I don't. LM

You: What do you mean? KK

Stranger: I fucked that up too. LM

You: I find it hard to believe that you could fuck that up. You and that other guy... whathisface, I don't remember. You two are almost literally joined at the hip. KK

Stranger: Hunk? Yeah, no, I ruined it. LM

You: How in the hell did you manage that? KK

Stranger: Told him I was using him, called him some horrible shit. I was actually gonna go tonight. lM

You: He'd forgive you, if you talked to him. KK He's that type. KK

Stranger: I don't want him to. LM

You: Yeah. I know. KK Life's pretty fucked, huh. KK

Stranger: It is. LM

You: Do you really want to let them win, though? KK

Stranger: Who, life? LM The voices in my head? LM My parents? LM

You: All of the above. KK People like us are stronger than every piece of shit that tries to take us down. KK Or at least, we're supposed to be. I don't know how true it is, but... it's something to think about. KK

Stranger: We're supposed to be, but I'm not. LM

You: How many times have you used those hotlines? KK

Stranger: I've called in twice a month for the past year and a half. LM

You: And yet, you're still here. KK

Stranger: I've been so close, Keith.. LM

You: But you haven't done it. KK You're still here, even though everything's fucked up and you've wanted to so bad for so long. KK It takes somebody strong to even use those hotlines. Because there's a chance to be talked out of it. KK

Stranger: I can't keep doing this, Keith.. LM God, this was the last straw.. LM

You: Lance, I'm probably the worst hypocrite on the planet by saying this, but you CAN keep doing this. If you're strong enough to reach out when you're in a bad place, you're strong enough to eventually move past the bad place into something else. Something better. KK

Stranger: This has been building up for so many years. LM I can't do this. LM

You: That's how it goes. But you can do it. It's going to be the hardest fucking thing, but you can. KK

Stranger: {...} come to the bridge on forty fifth, I don't want to fall.. LM

You: I'm on my way. KK

Stranger: Ok. LM

You: ((para?))

Stranger: {{oouiiii}}

You: ((hon hon hon)) Keith hadn't been lying when he'd said it was hypocritical of him to give the advice. The amount of times he'd been in Lance's position... He understood it. It was why he'd responded immediately, even though it had been clear that Lance hadn't meant to message him. He and Lance may not have gotten along whenever they did have any conversation with one another, but shit, he wasn't about to ignore a cry for help like that. Not from anyone. He was out the door faster than a shot, pulling his leather jacket on as he went, with a blanket balled up tightly in his arms. He had no idea the state that Lance would be in, but it was more than likely to assume that he hadn't dressed for the cold night with his intentions. He sprinted through the streets, finally skidding to a halt as he reached the bridge and looking around desperately for Lance.

Stranger: Lance was standing on the wrong side of the railing, arms hooked around it, body leaned forward just slightly so he could peer down at the rushing water below him. The Cuban boy was shaking, his fingers slowly going numb, tears streaking his face. He hadn't meant for anyone to find out, especially not Keith, but the world really did hate him, and that had been what happened. Everything would end if he just let go of the railing and fell forward though, he would die in the freezing cold water. He'd been considering doing it when he heard footsteps coming his way, and he pulled himself close to the rail and turned around to face Keith.

You: There was no sign of him, and Keith was honestly terrified in that moment that he'd been too slow, that Lance had gone and done it and-- No. No, there. There he was, facing the water, staring down into its depths as though it held the answers to all of his problems. Keith blew out a sigh of relief and made his way over to him, footsteps measured so as to not startle the other boy. When Lance turned around, though, Keith was glad to see that, at the very least, he looked unharmed. In the dim light of the street lamp at the other side of the bridge, he could see teartracks shining on his face, but he wasn't fazed or surprised by them. "Lance," he said quietly. "Come back over here."

Stranger: Lance had dark, hardly visible marks all over his legs, which only became clearer when he obediently climbed over the railing, back onto the safe side of it, and stood in front of Keith, eyes downcast, heart beating all to fast in his chest. "I-I...K-Keith.." he whispered, his eyes starting to water again, tears starting to fall freely. "I-I have nowhere to go, Keith..Why..." he choked out a tiny sound. "Why can I never fucking do it..."

You: True to what he'd assumed, Lance was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and nothing else. Glancing down to take a good look at him, Keith discovered the marks criss-crossing his skin and resisted the urge to wince. So much for unharmed. Without missing a beat, he unballed the blanket and spread it out before stepping forward and wrapping it around Lance's shoulders, holding it in place with his hands just short of Lance's chest on either side. "Because there's a part of you that's terrified, and there's a part of you that is always looking for another option," he replied quietly as he worked, finishing the statement as the blanket settled around him.

Stranger: Lance felt the warm blanket wrapped around him, and he stepped closer to Keith, seeking some sort of warmth from him, weather it be body heat, or comforting words. It was true, he was terrified. What came after death? He didn't know. Still, that didn't stop the frail boy from crying. "I h-have no home, Keith...T-they kicked me o-out and I-I'm not allowed to see my sis-sister anymore..."

You: There wasn't a whole lot that Keith knew about Lance's life. They barely ever spoke to one another, and when they did, it was filled with angry words and pointed glares and Lance blaming him for things that he hadn't done. Not much time for bonding when you were too busy bickering. So to hear the words fall from Lance's mouth, bitter and sad and too similar to his own life for comfort, he was more than a little shocked. He tried to cover it by messing with the blanket, keeping it from slipping off Lance's thin shoulders, letting him step closer without stepping away himself. "What happened, Lance?" he asked quietly, because fuck if he knew, and if he was going to say anything even remotely encouraging, he needed to at least try to understand just how shitty his situation was.

You: ((About how old are you thinking they are here?))

Stranger: {{Like, driving age, but not adults yet?}}

You: ((Mmkay!))

Stranger: "My parents tossed me for being gay, Keith...Th-they tossed me and I couldn't...I-I couldn't deal this time...I couldn't...I-I can't be alone again, Keith, I do-don't want to be on the streets again..." he whimpered. This was not the first time his parents had tossed him out, but this time, it was indefinite rather than just a short week. "Th-This one is permanent, I can't...I-I have nowhere to go..." he whispered. "Why can't I just jump..."

You: "I've got space in my room. You don't have nowhere to go." From the age seven to the age of fifteen, Keith had been tossed around from foster home to foster home. He'd hadn't found a place to stay that wasn't terrible and/or filled with terrible people, and he'd been at his absolute worst before he'd ended up with the family he was still with. So parents that did shit like that weren't exactly a shock. Still, to learn that Lance had been kicked out over something a ridiculous as his sexuality pissed Keith off to no end, and the words left his mouth before he'd even really considered the implications. Thinking about it, though... It wasn't as though he thought his foster parents would turn Lance away. They were the nicest people Keith had ever met or lived with, hands down. Plus, as soon as Keith turned eighteen, he was going to get a place on his own. The government gave him a nice kickstart of a fund, and he was already working on trying to get a job. What had begun as an impulse was actually not a terrible idea, when Keith really thought about it. "Seriously. If you've been kicked out, Lance... There are other options besides ending it."

Stranger: Lance looked up, eyes going wide, heart beating fast in his chest. "Y-You'd le-let me...?" he whispered, moving to press himself closer to Keith, arms curling around his neck tight and hiding his face in his chest, crying softly on his shoulder and grasping his leather jacket. He was still trembling, voice breaking when he spoke again. "I...It was to much, Keith...It was to much tonight, Keith..." he whispered, looking up slowly and biting his lip. He needed this, to be close to someone. "God...I-I..Thank you..."

You: Even though Keith had become a lot less... touch-averse in the past two years, the embrace still took him by surprise. He and his foster parents didn't really... hug. His foster brother was the only person who he ever really let near enough, and his parents respected that. He didn't pull away, though. Instead, he took a breath and told himself to relax, and wrapped his arms slowly around Lance, letting him cry, letting him let it out. "I've been there," he told him simply, his voice no louder than a murmur. "I've been there and it's not... it's not a good place. I know that." He shook his head a little, one jerky movement. "No one deserves it."

Stranger: Lance knew how Keith was with touch, he knew he was likely making the shorter uncomfortable, but he was anxious, scared to let go of him despite the fact that he knew Keith wouldn't just let him go like that. Would he? Slowly, the brunette stepped back, his hands shaking, his eyes glistening, tears streaking his face. "I'm...I-I'm sorry, Keith.." he whispered, shivering violently now without another source of heat, the blanket not enough to keep him warm.

You: Keith had been through enough to know how a body reacted after panicking, and he could see Lance trembling as he stepped back again. "You're going to go into shock if we don't get you warm," he said quietly, shrugging off his own jacket as he spoke. He didn't wait for Lance to answer, opting instead to lift the blanket away from him long enough to drape the coat over his shoulders. He wrapped the blanket on top of the jacket, all the while avoiding looking Lance in the eyes. Humiliating him was the last thing on his list of things to do tonight. "Come on. We should get inside," he added, gesturing back towards the way he'd come.

Stranger: Lance kept his head down, the tears still falling freely from his eyes. The boy didn't react when the blanket was moved, or when he felt it placed over a warm leather jacket, his anxiety still coursing through him. His hands curled tight in the blanket, and he rubbed his eyes, taking a shaky breath and nodding wen he was motioned in the direction of what he assumed was Keith's home. He stepped carefully in that direction, his heart pounding in his chest. "thank you..."

You: "You don't have to thank me." The words came out faster than Keith had intended. Louder, too. He just... He really didn't think he needed to be thanked. Not for something like this. Not when he'd /been/ Lance, young and afraid and hating the world and everything in it, without a place he could really call home. If someone back then had stepped into his life, had offered to take him in... He might not have been so goddamn fucked up now. He fell into step beside Lance, walking with him as slowly as the other boy was as they made their way back in the direction of his house. "Just... please. Don't thank me." He wondered if he'd woken anyone up when he'd left. He doubted his foster parents had heard--their room was on the second floor. Shiro's room was on the first, though, and he was currently home from University. Keith wasn't worried about him, though. He was the most understanding person Keith had ever known, and consequently, the person he was the closest to.

Stranger: Lance nodded, falling silent after a moment, speeding up his pace just slightly. He was freezing, he wanted to be warm. "I'm sorry for always being so horrible to you, Keith..." he whispered softly, smiling up at the other weakly and pushing a trembling hand through his soft brown hair, taking in a deep breath and stalking quietly beside him, quickening his pace again when he saw the house come into sight.

You: Keith picked up the pace as well as his house came into sight. He was cold, too, even though he wasn't about to complain about it. Lance needed the jacket more than he did. The cold was uncomfortable, though. The sooner they got inside, the better. "It's... Well, it is what it is," he responded with a shrug. He couldn't say it was fine, because it never really had been. Keith had been confused at first, and that confusion had morphed quickly into anger, and then back to confusion again, depending on the day. But knowing that there were other things going on made things make at least a little more sense. He led Lance up the driveway to the door, and then put a finger to his lips as he unlocked the front door and opened it, gesturing Lance inside.

Stranger: Lance fell into step beside Keith, keeping his head down as he was gestured inside, his footsteps light on the ground as he moved through the door, still shivering, trying to keep himself from it. He was almost glad it was just Keith who seemed to be awake, but that faded quickly when he heard another set of footsteps approaching them from just down the hall. Panic started to settle in again, and he bit his lip, taking in a deep breath as a taller figure approaching. Shiro, for sure, but Lance didn't know that.

You: Well, it seemed that Keith /had/ awoken Shiro. He was just locking the door again when the floor creaked down the hall, light footsteps approaching them. He reached out and set a hand on Lance's shoulder gently, shifting him to the side so that he could get past. He left his hand there, though, at the feeling of just how badly the other boy was shaking under his touch. Shiro's face, illuminated by the flashlight on his phone, popped into view, and Keith squinted through the sudden light at him, making a sour face at him for it. "This is Lance. He's coming to my room. Go back to bed," he whispered.

Stranger: Lance winced at the sudden contact, but he didn't tug away, simply let the hand stay in it's place on his shoulder as Shiro stopped in front of them and shined the light in their faces. When Shiro had even slightly raised his hand, the Cuban boy had flinched, no thought put into it, and covered his face, whimpering softly and closing his eyes. Shiro took note of how scared the tan skinned boy looked, and he looked at Keith, sighing. "I'll bring you both tea and hot water bags, then I'll go to bed."

You: Keith could only look gratefully at his brother, his thanks obvious in his eyes. Honestly, he didn't know what he would have done without him. When he'd first arrived, Shiro had been the only one that could get him to talk, the only one who could talk him out of feeling like shit. He knew then and there that Shiro would be on his side regarding Lance, too. "Thanks, Shiro," he whispered simply before letting his hand drop from Lance's shoulder again. "C'mon, Lance. Let's get you upstairs." And he gestured for Lance to follow him as he started up.

Stranger: Lance nodded when Keith spoke, seeing Shiro go to the kitchen, and following the shorter boy up, his eyes wide and glassy. He didn't say a word, not even once they got to the dark haired boy's room. He just kept quiet and sat out of the way on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket still, knees to his chest, hands together, covering the back of his head. He looked like he was preparing for an earthquake drill or something similar, quite frankly.

You: It took Keith a minute to notice what Lance was doing. As soon as they made it to his room, he had crossed it and gone to the bottom drawer of the dresser, where there were extra blankets stored. It wasn't until he had pulled them out and was tossing them onto his bed that he glanced over to find Lance curled up on the floor. That was... not good. Not good at all. Keith bit his lip and approached Lance slowly, kneeling down in front of him. "Lance?" he murmured, hoping for a response. When he didn't get one, he tried again. "Lance, you're okay. You're safe."

Stranger: Someone was speaking to him. Someone familiar, someone he knew. Keith. It was Keith speaking to him now, kneeling in front of him, but why? What had he done wrong? Oh. Oh god Keith was probably mad at him for waking him up in the middle of the night. Immediately, the taller curled in tighter on himself, his breathing heavy. "I-I di-d-d-didn't me-mean to...t-to wake yo-you up, I-I-I'm sorry..." he stuttered out.

You: It should have been physically impossible for Lance to be curled into such a small ball, but somehow, he was managing. "No, Lance, that's not... It's okay. You didn't wake me up. That isn't... that isn't important." He shook his head. "You're safe here, Lance. I'm not going to hurt you. I won't touch you, not without you saying it's okay. And neither will anyone here. I should have warned you that Shiro might be up, but he's not a bad person. He's actually... he's a really good person, and he's going to help you, too. And you're safe here. That's the most important thing," he reiterated gently, doing his best to keep his tone soft and measured with every new word spoken.

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caseyvalhalla · 7 years

Text

despite what you’ve been told (pt 6)

so, I realize that this interpretation for the ‘commemorative photo’ scene has been disavowed via Word of God, but it’s what I was working with from the start so I’m just gonna roll with it; enjoy your Yurios, only one more installment after this!

Yuri Plisetsky’s life is suffering.

The most frustrating things he’s discovered as a teen is 1) the world he’s grown up into doesn’t meet any of his expectations, and also 2) the adults he used to admire turned out to be actual human beings capable of failure and emotion and being hopelessly pathetic and unreliable. They do things like let him down, forget his existence, make promises they have no intention of keeping, and shut themselves away in bathroom stalls to cry.

Yuri hates it, more than anything. He hates that vulnerability because his idols and role-models are supposed to be past that--beyond fallibility, beyond breaking, beyond childishness. But they’re not. Yuri feels betrayed.

He stomps out of the bathroom and goes to find Victor, not because Victor will prove himself to be any more capable or reliable than the blubbering mess in the toilet stall but because at least he’s a familiar disappointment, and at least he’s capable of pretending. Victor surrounded by flashing lights and microphones is the very impression of competence, oozing sound bites and sex appeal, another effortless success, a champion carved out of marble. The moment Victor notes Yuri’s presence suddenly he’s drawn into the circle of attention and celebrity, grumbling until Victor’s blithe scolding convinces him to answer a few questions about his advancement to Seniors, cold but mostly genial.

He’s started to see the cracks in Victor’s mask, though, even at times like this. At practice, when the only eyes on him are his coach and his rinkmates Victor is as silent and cold as the siberian tundra--on the ice he’s as refined and elegant as ever but his mouth tilts down in frustration, eyes focused on something distant over Yuri’s shoulder whenever he tries to get Victor’s attention.

Yuri wants to stay mad at him, wants to wash his hands of the World Champion of Assholes and never speak to him again, but he can’t, and that just pisses him off more.

When Victor finally waves off the press and they make their way to the exit, he predictably starts criticizing the step sequence in Yuri’s FS program and Yuri groans through his teeth, head dropping back dramatically, more to ensure that Victor gets the full force of his grimace than for any other reason. “Who cares? I won. Quit nagging me.”

Unfortunately Yakov is just close enough to hear him and launches into a lecture the moment they’re in earshot. Yuri stops listening after less than a second, stare wandering past Victor’s shoulder--and there he is, the latest disappointment in Yuri’s life, staring at the three of them with a dumb expression behind his stupid nerd glasses. Yuri scowls but he doesn’t seem to notice, and that just frustrates Yuri more.

Look at me! Pay attention to me! You’re a pathetic loser and the second I get home I’m taking all the posters of you off my wall and burning them. I’ll never watch your YouTube videos again. I hate your guts. Look at me, Katsuki, stop staring at Victor like an idiot. You failed me and I’ll never forgive you!

Japan’s Top Failure won’t look at Yuri, though; he just stares past him with that same limp, miserable posture and expression until Victor finally stirs, feeling eyes on him, and turns.

And Victor is the biggest idiot on the planet, because he immediately pulls up his movie star expression and says, graciously, “Commemorative photo? Sure.”

Victor is still smiling when Katsuki curls into a ball of abject misery and slithers away without a word, and that smile gradually melts into a blank stare while Yuri feels enough rage build up in his stomach that he thinks he might literally explode. He tries to pay attention to Yakov for a few seconds, just to distract himself, but Victor’s sense of self-preservation has never been in top form, so when he turns back he has the gall to mumble, “What was that about?” to himself, one finger curled against his lower lip.

And Yuri can’t take it anymore.

“Oh my GOD, what is your PROBLEM? That was YUURI KATSUKI YOU DUMB FUCK!”

Victor stares down at him, mask summarily out of place, vague like he thinks he knows the name but can’t quite place it, and it’s like a microcosm of everything that’s been wrong with Victor since last season. Distracted, listless, able to pretend he’s still inspired with his feet on the ice and cameras in front of him, fickle and directionless anywhere else. Before now, Victor would have been the one telling Yuri the names and careers of every single competitor at every event they go to, right down to their Junior division base scores and personal training regimens. But this Victor doesn’t seem to know anyone, doesn’t pay attention to anything, can’t keep any information in his head for more than a few hours.

Yakov has been making noises, occasionally, mutterings that sounded like it’s happening again and has long arguments with Victor behind closed doors that never seem to resolve anything. Yuri doesn’t remember it very well because he was too young, but he knows there was a break, an undefinable period of absence after which Victor reappeared in St. Petersburg, hair cut short, tired and world-weary but smiling in a way that made eight-year-old Yuri feel relieved even though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe just because it seemed to make Yakov feel relieved, in his own disgruntled way.

He assumes this is what those mutterings and arguments mean, but Yuri still doesn’t know why Victor was gone to begin with, and nothing pisses him off quite like his own ignorance.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor echoes, eyes narrow and turned to the side like he can see into his own memory if he peers hard enough, and Yuri grinds his teeth.

“Japan’s top skater. He wins his Nationals every year. He came in 6th, weren’t you watching?”

“I was talking to the press.”

Victor can’t possibly understand the depths of Yuri’s feelings about this, how eager he’d been to see Katsuki perform in person, only to watch him fall and stumble all over himself like a newborn foal. Victor couldn’t understand how unfair that was, how Katsuki had let himself down, let his fans down, let Yuri down even though they’d never spoken before Yuri broke into his toilet stall and screamed his own disappointment in Katsuki’s face. He was supposed to be better than this. Victor was supposed to be better than this. The adults in his life weren’t supposed to let him down.

And now Victor is lost in thought, somewhere out of reach for the rest of the day, for all of the following day through the exhibition where he skates as flawlessly and beautifully as ever, right up until the banquet.

Yuri refuses to discuss the banquet.

He’ll discuss how idiotic Victor is during the banquet, how every time his conversation lapses into silence Yuri follows his line of sight and invariably sees Katsuki in his lame department store suit, sucking down yet another flute of champagne. He’ll discuss how gross it all ends up being, because there’s a stripper pole and partial nudity involved and he can never, ever admit to how well Katsuki owns him at his own preferred style of dance even though he’s drunk enough it’s deeply improbable how well he keeps on his feet. He’ll discuss how appalled he is when Katsuki wraps his champagne-soaked, half-dressed self around Victor, babbling in a drunken mixture of Japanese and English, begging in a delighted sing-song for Victor to coach him.

What Yuri won’t discuss is later, after Victor dances with him, smiling like he hasn’t in more than a year or maybe ever, when Yuri catches a glimpse through a part in the crowd, Yuuri Katsuki in Victor’s lap and the two of them laughing, murmuring, arms sliding around each other. Lips touching.

It’s not fair.

Yuri wonders, sometimes, if he knew what would happen after that--if he knew that one day he’d be in a backwater town somewhere in Japan on the ice with these two bumbling grownups, ready to stomp his feet and scream because they can’t take their eyes off each other, can’t stop clinging to each other, because I’m here, too! Pay attention to me, too! I need your love, too!

He wonders if he knew that, knew how disgusting they would end up being, how unimportant he would end up being to them, if he would have sent Victor the link.

Yuri sort of knows, in that moment when he’s watching the YouTube channel he swore he’d never look at again, curled on his bed surrounded by the posters he swore he was going to burn, when the internet suddenly explodes with Yuuri Katsuki. Would Victor even notice? Victor, who never notices anything anymore, especially not Yuri Plisetsky, even when Yuri Plisetsky is standing right in front of him, yelling in his face.

Without inspiration you’re as good as dead!

But maybe if Yuuri Katsuki is the only thing Victor will notice, the only thing he wants to notice, then maybe that’s better than him not noticing anything or anyone at all.

Yuri figures he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life, if he copies the YouTube link into this text message to Victor. He’s right.

He does it anyway.

And maybe one day he’ll admit to someone he trusts to never, ever repeat any such thing that he wouldn’t take it back, even if he had the chance. Even if he had a million chances, he’d press the send button every time, teeth grit in a scowl, ready to fling his phone into the sun as soon as it goes through. It’s selfless and unconditional and what pisses him off the most is that Victor knows, weeks later. He looks at Yuri and says agape like he’s already read everything in Yuri’s heart, like his love is an open book for Victor to peruse.

And Yuri will never, ever forgive either of them.

...

Except he does, this time. And every time after.

#yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #victuri #vikturi #so many victories #hahaha #i enjoyed this little yurio interlude #even though i kinda made myself sad #he'll be ok though #casey writes fanfiction #despite what you've been told

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benevolenterrancy · 7 years

Note

GENYATTA EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ROBOTS ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

THEROBOTS NEED LOVE OKAY ;-; THIS IS A GOOD AND PURE PROMPT THANK YOU

who hogs the duvet

Theyare both a grade-A fucking mess trying to sleep. It's been literalyears since Genji has shareda bed with anyone, and Zenyatta being, as previously state, arobot normally sleeps upright,hovering while recharging. So once they start sharing a bed it's onebig mess of how??? exactly do we do this??? But hey, as far asGenji's concerned Zenyatta has helped him learn so much and he ismore than happy toteach Zenyatta how to sleep together.

Thatbeing said Genji is a terrible teacher because he is 100% the one whohogs the duvet – don't do what Genji does kids you'll get kickedout of any bed you're sharing. He always has, ever since he was ayoung; Hanzo would never share a bed with him when they were kidsbecause Genji would always end up with all the covers by the end ofthe night. He'll start out sleeping normally, but by the morninghe's curled up in a ball, ever limb locked like a vice around theblankets so there is zero chance of ever getting them back. Fortunately Zenyatta doesn't need them except for the mentality ofcoziness, so this works out surprisingly well.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Genji,definitely. He's the sort to daydream during mission debriefsbecause he's thinking about how absolutely amazing his boyfriend isand then call him at random because he just really!! missed talkingto Zenyatta!!! He'll call for any little reason. What does Zenyattathink Genji should bring home for dinner? It was really hot today,is Zenyatta okay? He hasn't been overheating? Genji saw an adorabledog and he took pictures, look, Zen, I'll message them to you. Babe I know I just left twenty minutes ago but I miss you tell meabout what you've been doing. Genji just really really reallyloves his boyfriend and is very clingy about it. (Zenyatta does notmind at all)

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

They make a good team when it comes togift-giving. Zenyatta is like... unnervingly good when it comes tothinking up really meaningful gifts, little things that will havesome greater significance for the recipient and that will almostcertainly result in hugs and/or tears.

...That being said, Genji is arguablythe more “creative” one though. He is a white elephant champion. He comes up with the most ridiculous gifts and loves an opportunityto get silly, fun things for his friends.

who gets up first in the morning

Zenyatta for sure. Despite the world'sbest efforts to instill that sort of virtue in Genji it has neverstuck. His parents, instructors, Hanzo... all wanted him to be anearly riser for training as a child, but despite it he was still thatperson who was usually stumbling into class late more often than hewasn't. He would wake up for early Overwatch missions, but only withplenty of alarms, caffeine, and grumbling. He half-heartedly triedto break himself of the habit while he was in Nepal, trying to wakeup and meditate with the monks in the early mornings but that wasjust never going to happen and he graciously gave that up. SoZenyatta wakes up first (he literally has an internal alarm) and hascoffee ready for Genji when he finally stumbles out of bed.

who suggests new things in bed

To be perfectly honest, I cheerfullyheadcanon Zenyatta as asexual and I've never quite gone down therobo-dick path that some people enjoy so I personally don't headcanonthem doing any “things” in bed at all. (Though Genji does teachZenyatta the glory of cuddling under warm covers and watching moviesfor hours on end, so in that case... Genji does!)

who cries at movies

Neither of them are really big criersduring movies, least of all because Zenyatta literally cannot. ButZenyatta does Feel Lots OfThings during movies. Out of the two, he definitely emphasizes themost with the poor, hapless movie characters (and like, not justprotagonists, he's the sort to get distressed because the villaincould so easily be guided to a better path by the right hand but isinstead slaughtered for Plot Reasons, or is moved by some littleinjustice suffered by a side character). Genji's much more likely tolaugh at sad movies than cry (though he does have his small handfulof films that make him cry every time– not that he'll admit it, he's wearing a mask, no one can proveanything).

who gives unprompted massages

Zenyatta (I mean... it'd be tricky totry to massage an omnic). Zenyatta knows the sort of physical painGenji can still experience just from living with his scars and thestrain his body experiences from how it's integrated with hiscybernetics – it can lead to anything from stiffness, to aches, togenuine pain depending on the day, so Zenyatta's always around tooffer a massage when he can tell it's acting up. It feels nice notonly on his organic flesh, but also his synthetic muscles since it'sgiving them very deliberate sensory input. (And the day Genjifinally worked up the nerve to take off all the removable parts ofhis armour and allow Zenyatta to massage him was one of the bestdecision of his life – Zenyatta is a fantasticmasseuse.) Zenyatta also just enjoys giving Genji's massages becauseof how loose and content Genji gets after being massaged, like atranquil noodle.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Obviously between the two of themGenji's much more likely to be sick and Zenyatta is Good at takingcare of him. He's not great at making food but will bring simplethings to help settle Genji's stomach, he picks up medicine, fillshot water bottles, listens to all of Genji's moaning about how he'sdying and is perfectly content to be doing so, he loves being able tohelp. Plus Zenyatta can still cuddle a sick Genji without needing toworry about getting a sick himself, which is a big fucking plus inGenji's eyes.

That being said Genji is absolutelythe one more likely to fuss if Zenyatta shows any sign of being sick. Zenyatta's very chill, matter of fact, and calming when Genji'ssick. Genji freaks out if Zenyatta seems like he's caught some sortof virus or if his system isn't running optimally because he isconstantly terrified of Zenyatta getting damaged in some unrepairableway that Genji can't help. People normally don't die from a cold,but Genji remembers what the God Programs did to omnics. (Ithonestly doesn't matter how many times Zenyatta reassures him that hejust needs to run a quick diagnostics or get a system update and takeit easy or something, Genji will still hover and fret like it'snobody's business until Zenyatta is acting entirely like his normalself again.)

who gets jealous easiest

I honestly don't think either of themget very jealous. Genji probably would have when he was younger, butat this point in his life he is much more confident about himself andhis relationship with those close to him. He trusts Zenyatta enoughto know he has nothing to get jealous about. Same goes for Zenyatta, he appreciates Genji and his very social,outgoing nature but doesn't, for a minute, consider himself to be incompetition for Genji's affection.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

150% Genji. Except he's not actuallyembarrassed, he's shameless when it comes to his music choices. Hewill listen to so much crapit will drive literally everyone else NUTSand he just has no fucks to give. As far as he's concerned, hismusic is fun and bright and makes you want to dance and that's whathe's looking for in music. Zenyatta doesn't listen to all that muchmusic, but he does enjoy “ancient” (in Genji's words – it'sfrom the around 1980s) rock music purely because Mondatta liked itand it makes Zenyatta think of him. Either way, Lúcio sighs deeplywhenever either one of them gets to chose the music.

who collects something unusual

Depends on how you define “unusual”. Genji didn't start out with much in the way of worldly goods, sincehe left most of what he had back at the Watchpoint when he left (andbefore that, in Hanamura when he was “killed”) and only had whathe could carry, but he starts to collect more things once he settlesin somewhere. He collects things like video game merch and comicbooks and things like that, nothing all that weird, though he can bea bit of a packrat about it. Zenyatta collects less, but it tends tobe things like... pressed flowers and pretty stones and cheapfigurines he bought in a market while he was traveling and a cheapplastic necklace a child made him after he helped her mother, thatsort of thing.

who takes the longest to get ready

Neither take that long, tbh. I mean,Genji's a nudist both of them are varying degrees ofrobotic, so it's not like they have hair to do or make-up to put on,and neither of them are too fussed about clothes. Zenyatta's themost likely to take a while to get ready but that's purely because hehas a tendency to get distracted by everythingand moves really really slowlyeven when he is actively getting ready.

who is the most tidy and organised

Zenyatta. Genji is tidy only by thevirtue of not having many physical possessions to his name. As soonas he begins planting roots again, gets a space of his own, andbegins amassing possessions again then he is easily the slob of thetwo. He will leave shit lying anywhere and then get frustrated whenhe can't find it – Hanzo can attest that his ability to keep hisspace clean has not improved from childhood.

who gets most excited about the holidays

See, I would normally be inclined tosay it's Genji because I can just see him getting super giddy andexcited about holidays, but after we've experienced both a Halloweenand Winter event I think we have to accept the fact that apparentlyit's Zenyatta. He had an elaborate skin for both holiday, heobviously gets so into it. “Paint me like a skeleton, Genji” “Master, you're an omnic, youdon't even have a skeleton...” “That's why it's a costume,my student, and besides it'sHalloween. Help me reach my back.” Or: “Zen... what is that?” “A walnut.” “Yes, I see that, I was more interested in whythere are giant walnuts all around the room.” “Well, I'm gladyou asked...” As opposed to Genji's “My Halloween costume? Cyborg ninja” – what a cop-out you little shit. Genji absolutelyforgets about holidays are happening until like the day before.

Zenyattais just super enthralled by all big celebrations and can't wait toparticipate with everyone and drags Genji into them whether he likesit or not.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Genji: “Everyone likes to be thelittle spoon, it makes you feel safe!”

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Genji gets the most outwardlycompetitive, and will cheerfully trash talk both the people on theother team and on his ownteam. He is a very loud player of just about anything, who'llhappily crow about his victories. Look, he spent his childhoodgrowing up training with Hanzo, so he has learnt to A) take anythingvaguely competitive very seriouslybut to also B) be chill when he loses because Hanzo was alwaysobsessed with winning and Genji refused to give him the satisfaction.

Zenyatta,however, gets stealthily competitive. He stays looking and talkingtotally calmly and peacefully, preaches sportsmanship and generosityto fellow players but then he'll just... say something very casuallythat most people might not even realize is petty andcompetitive unless they're paying attention. (“To hold a grudge isunhealthy... for you”, “The master still has a few tricks” –Zenyatta is secretly savage af and Genji totally knows it, especiallyafter the first time he and Zenyatta sparred and he was landed on hisass in no time flat. No one believes him though, they all think Zenis a complete sweetheart.)

who starts the most arguments

I honestly don't think they have a lotof full-scale arguments. If nothing else, their relationship isbuilt on like... aggressive levels of open and healthy communication. So if either has an issue, they might have disagreements – evenlong, extended, debates – but it's something they talk about atlength until they're able to work something else. If anything Genjiprobably brings the most up, but they recognize that an argument is amutual thing, in which two people are meeting an impasse, not one orthe other's problem.

who suggests that they buy a pet

GENJI WANTS A DOG, LET'S GET A DOG,ZEN

what couple traditions they have

I normally think of them as a prettyyoung couple, and one that hasn't spent their whole time in oneanother's presence (Genji going back to Hanamura to confront Hanzo,and I imagine Zenyatta was off doing things as well, and the twointended to meet up again later) so I think they're still in theprocess of making traditions. They enjoy meditating together, especially in the evening aroundsunset. It's a nice way to wind down from the day. They're also inthe habit of chatting in the evenings, which started because theywere separated for long periods of time. Genji calls in the evenings(since Zenyatta is less bothered about being awake at odd hours thanGenji is – an omnic doesn't get jetlag) and that's something thatcontinued even after they met back up again, they'll often try to puteverything else down and just cuddle and talk before going to sleep.

what tv shows they watch together

I feel like they'd enjoy watchingsitcoms together the most. They both have a terrible sense ofhumour, and it's a nice way to unwind, sitting around together andlaughing along with some stupid show with a ridiculous laugh trackand a guaranteed good ending. If it existed at the time, they'd likeBrooklyn-99, I'm sure of it. Long series are nice because then theycan pick something and just watch an episode or two night afternight, whenever they have a chance.

what other couple they hang out with

I imagine they're both pretty social sothey probably hang out with plenty, simply by the virtue that theyboth enjoy spending time with friends. (I'm not going to botherlisting because it totally depends on who you headcanon as a couple.)

how they spend time together as a couple

Honestly they're best friends, they'llhappily do just about anything together. Meditation is obviously abig one for them, since that was what originally brought themtogether, but they sleep together, fight together, travel together –hell, Zenyatta will happily float along with Genji through asupermarket while he's buying groceries and they'll both enjoythemselves because they just like getting to spend time together. They enjoy simple domesticity because it feels like a luxury neitherwas sure they'd ever get to experience (Zenyatta because of the stateof omnics' rights, Genji because for a long time he felt like afterbecoming a cyborg those sorts of options were closed off to him).

who made the first move

I could see it going either waydepending on the hc/fic but listen, listen, my favourite isaboslutely Genji doing it by accident. I like to think that it's in Nepal, Genji's been there for quite awhile now, him and Zenyatta have become very close friends at thispoint and then it suddenly strikes Genji that, oh shit, hehas major feelings for Zenyatta. And he is mentally freaking outbecause would Zenyatta even be interested?? Sure he's seen omnics inromantic relationships but Zenyatta's never really expressed aninterest one way or another... and would he be interested in someonewho isn't an omnic? Or in a man? Or just... in Genji as a whole,given that Zenyatta has seen every rough edge that Genji has at thispoint? And then what if Zenyatta doesn't wantthat and Genji ruins their friendship? What if Zenyatta getsuncomfortable and wants him to leave the monastery – this is theonly place Genji has truly felt he belonged since The Incident, hedoesn't want to lose that–!!! and basically he freaks out forapproximately four hours, it completely consumes him because this isway higher stakes than any of the playful flings he had as ateenager, he doesn't want to break something, but now that he'sstarted thinking about it he can't stopthinking about how much he wants to fucking kiss ZenyattagodDAMMIT.

Andthen the evening comes and he and Zenyatta are meditating andZenyatta is asking him about his day and, look, at this point Genjihas gotten very used to just talking to Zenyatta about any emotionalissues he's having. Before he can stop himself it just... pops out. And all of a sudden Genji realizes he's confessing that hehas feelings for Zenyatta and all the misgivings he has to go alongwith it and he's FREAKING OUT EVEN MORE NOW BECAUSE THIS ISN'T WHATHE MEANT TO DO IT WAS AN ACCIDENT butZenyatta is just/// so flattered/// and so excited and so willing totry this and everything works out beautifully and it's fluffy andperfect The End

who brings flowers home

Zenyatta is the most likely to bringflowers home, by that's more in the interest of having flowers athome than anything necessarilyromantic. He tends to see flowers, wild or otherwise, and getenraptured by them and decide to decorate their space with them. Genji gets flowers less often, but will often get Zenyatta flowers asa gift on an anniversary or something. (He likes to bring home live,potted flowers for Zenyatta, since he tends to get melancholy whenthey finally dry up and die. Although with the sort of lifestylethey live the flowers still have a bad tendency to die.)

who is the best cook

They both suck at cooking. Zenyatta doesn't need to eat, and the Shimada family had people tocook when Genji was young, and then Overwatch had a cafeteria when hewas there. Genji is the best cook simply by the virtue of beinghuman and having, on the rare occasioned, needed to make food forhimself so as to not die. Fortunately, neither of them really need“good” food. As previously state, Zenyatta doesn't eat, andGenji can't actually taste food anymore so it doesn't really matterhow disgusting he makes it, he's not going to know the difference. God help anyone that comes to their place for dinner though.

so... anyone else wanna send me a ship? help ease the painful sting of a new semester with silly inbox games?

#overwatch #zenyatta #genji shimada #genyatta #crychanwastaken #bene speaks #thoughts #omg thank you for this #genyatta is my otp to end otps they are precious and pure #also whoops this ended up being longer than intended #ship ask meme

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