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#i thought this video was like as old as youtube almost

natalieironside · 1 year

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At the risk of sounding like a 14-year-old commenting on a dad rock youtube video in 2009, I'm gay and this album came out almost 2 decades before I was born and my first thought was "Oh yeah 'cause Dark Side had that prism thing." A lot of these fools listened to it when it was new.

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berzahoes · 5 months

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manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas

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sexlapis · 6 months

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actor! toji fushiguro thoughts 💭

actor toji would be one of those hot dilf actors that women would always be drooling over, edits of him always popping up on your fyp, the most outta pocket comments underneath all of his insta posts, he would be the number 1 dilf for all the old man fuckers.

toji rarely posts on social media. he’s at that age where he just does not care to post his whole life online, but that only attracts people to him more because he is so mysterious. he would have like 10 million followers and only follow 12 people (including you)

toji would probably be one of those actors that have no variety in their roles, but everybody would still eat it up anyways. toji as an actor would typically play a villain/antagonist or an anti-hero, typically in an action movie/series and he plays them well. toji can embody an intimidating, frightening, intelligent villain very well. he could be cast as one of the most horrendous, horrible villains and be a menace towards the main cast but because he looks like that, he is forgiven.

but there are those rare times toji is casted as a father or father figure and his character would do anything for their daughter and everyone just loses it. he plays the father role well, almost too well. he is so caring, protective and sweet towards the actress playing as his daughter, even behind the scene clips with one another, he is just so gentle and dreamy. the fans cannot handle it!

during interviews, toji can be charming. he cracks jokes and he answers questions honestly, even if they make him look unprofessional. he really does not give a fuck about that, which only makes him even more attractive. he’s a little sleazy sometimes, but that just adds to his lazy effortless appeal.

he just has such a dominant personality and not in a bad way either. like if an interviewer asked a question that made a cast member uncomfortable, he would smoothly change the subject and the mood, making everyone forget about it entirely. also, his stare is really intense…like when the interviewer or a fellow cast member is speaking, he makes sure to look at them and listen really closely, not even realising how intimidating that could be 😭

despite his unprofessional personality and wealthy background, people who work with toji cannot say anything bad about him. he is a great actor with great work ethic and is always respectful to his cast members. and most of all, he is humble. due to his background and accomplishments, other actors on set expect him to be all flashy and all head in the clouds, but toji isn’t like that. toji is very aware and down to earth and he doesn’t see himself as superior because of his wealth. he sees what that power does to some people (his family) and he wants nothing not do with it.

overall, for the most part, toji is a respected actor, with a loyal (albeit crazy) fanbase, he actually enjoys his job and lives a relatively private and quiet life. people barely know anything despite his wealth and fame and prefers to keep it that way.

a/n: this was inspired by jeffrey dean morgan lmao. also i’m thinking of maybe doing a mini one shot with actress reader x actor toji in the form of one of those youtube videos like “(reader) & toji fushiguro being a couple for 10 minutes straight” i think that would be fun 🤭🤭

edit: toji & reader being a couple for 10 minutes straight is here <3

#lana del rey girlies would love him so bad #actor!toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro headcanons #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader #t

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suashii · 1 year

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୨♡୧ MIDNIGHT CONFESSION — suna rintaro x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by @nagicore for my rin round up event!

there's a knock on your door, loud enough for you to hear over the movie playing on your tv. it startles you; maybe because it's so late or maybe because the sound isn't one you're used to hearing. you've grown accustomed to suna's lack of knocking in your time living with him.

"come in," you shout, hoping your voice is audible on the other side of the door. it swings open, revealing suna in his pikachu pajama pants and an old inarizaki volleyball hoodie. they don't match in the slightest but that much brings a small smile to your face.

your eyes flit up to his. "I didn't know you knew what knocking was."

he shrugs. "I didn't want to just walk in if you were sleeping."

"how considerate," you drawl, turning back to your movie. from the corner of your eye, you can see suna standing still in your doorway. "what's up?"

"can I sleep in here tonight?"

the question catches you a bit off guard. it's not that you haven't slept with suna before, but it's never been intentional. you can't count the number of times the two of you have passed out on the couch after staying up late talking about everything and nothing or falling down the rabbit hole of strange youtube videos. the thought of him purposefully wanting to sleep beside you quickens your heartbeat, makes your mind race. "why? is something wrong with your bed?"

"i spilled soy sauce on my sheets," he admits, though, he doesn't seem embarrassed by his actions. "they're in the washing machine."

you shake your head at his clumsiness. "i told you eating in your bed would make a mess."

"is that a yes?" he asks.

you chew the inside of your cheek while silently contemplating your answer. suna's motives seem innocent enough—not that you imagine he would try anything. what you are worried about is the impromptu sleepover surfacing some feelings you've been trying incredibly hard to bury.

despite your concern, you can't find it in you to turn suna away. you'll just have to be careful to keep your silly little crush from making itself known. you pull back the covers and pat your mattress. "get comfortable."

finally, suna steps out of your doorway and into your bedroom. he kicks his slippers off before sitting beside you and swinging his legs onto the bed. even with your gaze glued to the tv, the dip in the mattress—just knowing suna's so close—makes the tips of your ears burn.

his movement still after a few seconds and you hope the lack of motion will be enough for you to calm down and compose yourself. you try to focus on the film you'd been watching before he entered but without even looking you can tell suna's eyes are on you. a quick glance confirms your suspicions.

you turn to face him. "why are you staring at me?"

"i'm not," he replies so quickly that it comes off as practiced. a direct contradiction to his words, he continues to look at you.

"you're literally staring at me right now," you argue with a shaky laugh. to be the subject of his intense grayish-yellow gaze makes it nearly impossible to act normal around him. "is there something on my face?"

suna shakes his head. "you're just really pretty when you're nervous."

the heat in your ears spreads to your cheeks and even further down your neck as you process his words. he couldn't have meant them the way your mind assumed. he's always been the joking type. "stop it. don't tease me."

you move to turn to the tv once more but suna's hand reaches out to cup your cheek, gently directing your line of sight back to him. his palm is cold against your skin, almost icy enough that you want to pull away from it. you don't though, choosing to cherish the touch you've never felt before.

"i'm serious," he says and you can tell by his voice that he means it. "you're really pretty."

your eyes scan his face and, just like his words, any evidence of jesting is absent. you blink to be sure and his expression is unchanging. this isn't how you imagined coming clean with your feelings would go—hell, you couldn't be sure that suna even reciprocated them. now, in the moment that he's made his stance clear, you're at a loss for words.

infinite responses bounce around in your skull but none of them make it to your lips. you fear that your silence may give the man the wrong idea so you spit out the first reply that you can manage to string together. "um, you're... really pretty, too."

suna smiles at that, one that reaches his eyes. “im glad you think so."

suna supposes he could have scoured through his closet in search of an extra set of sheets. he supposed he could have walked straight past your room and camped out on the couch for the night. but something compelled him to stop in front of your door—maybe his heart or maybe his curiosity. he figures both played a part in his decision to knock on your door. after all, he just wanted to see if you might feel the same.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna rintaro #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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m00nsbaby · 8 months

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Asking for help with your makeup.

Moon system x reader. - headcanons.

Steven.

You had done it for fun, asking him to do your makeup like those old YouTube videos that trended a few years ago.

He didn't hesitate at all, Steven got to work.

But first, he put on his adorable reading glasses.

You discovered he bit his tongue when he was too concentrated, and you just wanted to kiss him.

In the end, it was a bigger challenge for you than for him.

"Oh Gods, look at that." He whispered to himself as he used his finger to correct the mistake on the edge of the blue eyeliner he had applied.

Contrary to what you thought, he chose vibrant colors.

Turns out Steven wanted to try every interesting thing he found in your makeup kit.

"Can you…?" "Mhmm?" "Can you do... like Gus, with your cheeks?"

It wasn't fair that a man could be this adorable, asking you to suck in your cheeks so he could apply bronzer.

"What is this glittery thingy for?" "Highlighter, like the ones you use for your books."

He wasn't too thrilled about using his fingers with your makeup, he immediately wiped them on some surface.

And his hand trembled when he applied a touch of highlighter to the inner corner of your eyes.

Usually, you were the one who made Steven nervous, but at this moment, his brown eyes were so focused on you that you were almost trembling.

So close to asking him to forget everything and kiss you until both of you were tired.

"Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink." He held the mascara wand as you obeyed, until he was satisfied with the amount on your lashes.

No one had ever looked at you with such admiration before.

"Finished?"

Still, he didn't seem satisfied.

"What's missing?" Your voice came out curious, playful. Like you would talk to a child who can't quite express what they need. "I don't know, love."

He just kept looking at you. And your brain worked in seconds.

His eyes lit up when you showed him a palette consisting solely of glitter. In different colors and sizes.

Three gentle taps on each of your cheeks with the glitter, and now you saw him nod, content with his masterpiece.

"Done! How did I do?" He was just so… excited.

You weren't going to burst his bubble by telling him that the look screamed 'I'm drunk at Coachella,' so you smiled. Almost as excited as he was.

"It's perfect, Steven."

Little did you know, you had just triggered this to become a constant activity.

You had so many colors for him to try, and you couldn't refuse if he looked at you that way.

Marc.

Marc was… rough.

Like every second of his life, he had a furrowed brow as he worked on you, and at every moment, he reminded you that you had asked for this.

"You're taking hours." "Rome wasn't built in a day." "And now you're talking like Steven."

He rolled his eyes for the fifth time within a span of 2 hours.

"Lift your face." That request also repeated more than you would have liked.

And his hands could be coarse, but his touches were so gentle that your eyes had started to close a few minutes ago.

He wasn't going to say it, but this almost felt therapeutic.

There was something stupidly relaxing about choosing what he liked without anyone else interfering, not even those little voices in his mind.

No one could judge him for his choice of neutral colors.

You, on the other hand, as relaxed as you felt, had a racing heart.

Turns out Marc and Jake are probably the most stubborn people you know, so neither of them accepts that their body needs glasses outside of Steven.

As a result, he had to be closer to you to focus his gaze on what he was doing.

His warm, minty breath gave you goosebumps.

Did Marc have to be attractive in everything he did?

Your train of thought slowly started to drift away from the situation.

"I told you…" His hand firmly positioned itself under your chin and forced you to lift your head to look at him. "To lift your face."

You swallowed hard.

And you weren't sure if he noticed that you were about to melt on the edge of the bed where both of you were seated.

Stupid Marc Spector, he was the love of your life.

His hand stayed on your chin, his gaze fixed on you until he finally finished.

"Well?"

Finally, that beautiful smile.

"Beautiful. As always."

It didn't surprise you that he had done such a good job. Your boyfriend didn't like to make mistakes, and if he had to do a meticulous job on your face to confirm that he was talented in absolutely everything, he would.

You blushed, needless to say.

And he rewarded your hours of staying still with a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Did you like it?" "I loved it."

And his satisfied expression grew.

Jake.

Jake always organized the best dates.

Even though the looks were starting to wear you out, going out with him always meant something a bit out of the ordinary from the casual you usually wore.

"Jake?" He nearly stumbled as his eyes fixed on you.

You never ceased to surprise him.

"Sí, amor?" "Which one do you prefer?" You showed him two lipstick tubes, one red and the other nude.

He couldn't even look at anything other than you.

"Red." "Got it."

When you turned to the mirror to finish your makeup, you saw him walking slowly behind you.

It was hard to decipher Jake's intentions when he always had that mischievous smile on his lips.

You knew he wanted your attention when he placed a hand on your waist.

"Let me help you, mami."

Ugh.

You couldn't tell him no.

His index finger lifted your chin, and you could already feel the heat rising through your body, settling in your cheeks.

You analyzed his features up close. You would never tire of looking at him, that was for sure.

You handed him the already capless lipstick, and he focused all his attention on your lips.

"Open wide for me." His teasing and flirtatious tone always pushed you to the edge.

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, as always. You parted your lips for him.

He was so… delicate.

No one knew better than Jake how to drive you crazy.

"Stay still, mami." You were going to melt. You were going to die right there in his arms.

When he was done, he used his thumb to clean the edges of your lips, wiping away his nonexistent mistakes from your skin. It had turned out so well that you could safely say there was nothing to clean up.

It didn't surprise you; he always touched you as if you were made of glass.

"Can you do me a favor?" He was done, but his forehead was resting against yours, his eyes fixed on you as you tried to find the right words in your throat.

He stole your breath, quite literally. So you could only nod.

"Give me a kiss, babe."

You understood his request as he tilted his head to the side, giving you space to choose.

You left two kisses. One on his jawline, another on his white shirt collar. Both marks were perfectly formed and in a bright red shade.

Jake was satisfied with your work, and with his own.

He considered it a good way for you to mark him as yours, although he later discovered a much better way when your lips were marked all over his body, leaving not a single inch of his skin untouched by your red-stained kisses.

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morgana-ren · 7 months

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I have Dark Urge, Gortash and Astarion jealousy brain rot after that youtube video of them bickering. This is not related to the bickering but I keep thinking it!!!

"I don't remember," You hiss, fighting back the sudden lump in your throat. "I don't remember you, I don't even remember me."

"Still so quick to anger, " Gortash sounds amused as he reaches out, and for some reason you don't make any move to stop him. You don't fear him, in fact deep down there's an almost longing for his touch.

There's a slight flicker of surprise across his face as he cups your chin lightly, slowly stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze flicking quickly over your shoulder. You don't fight him, but you do fight the sudden urge to lean in to his touch, to open your mouth and brush the tip of your tongue over his thumb. You’re not sure if the shiver down your spine is your own confused arousal or the pulse of jealous anger from Astarion you can feel whispering through your tadpole. Gortash' lips quirk, there's a tiny hint of a smile as he leans in close and that burning pulse in your head turns into liquid fire through your veins. It's overwhelming, and so so confusing. Astarion's thoughts mixing with your own until you feel like you're going to drown in a haze of anger and lust.

Gortash gaze slips over your shoulder again and you feel a pang of anxiousness at his inattention, but its gone just as fast as he lowers his head and you raise your own instinctively, losing yourself in the need to press your mouth to his.

"You may not remember me, sweet thing," his nose brushes against yours as his voice drops to a whisper. "But your body does."

Malformed, foggy memories flashbang your brain as he stands so closely that you can smell the brandy and exotic spice on his skin, tugging your heartstrings from some unfathomably deep level within you. It hammers incessantly on the protective shield your mind has placed over your memories of your old life, drawing on something overwhelming and instinctive within you, though you cannot recall what.

It is an urge that makes your heart pound, but unlike the insatiable bloodlust that plagues your every thought, this one demands not only acquiescence, but obedience. Like a dog brought to heel by the call of its master, your breath stoppers in your throat as he leans in, lips brushing sensitive skin, your body anticipating the next move even as you do not consciously recognize what it might be. You salivate as a wolf over carrion, hands trembling in their need to reach forward, to pull him to you with such a force that it topples you both--

"Surely you're aware that not everything the body remembers is a good memory," Astarion speaks from behind you, his voice almost enough to shock you out of the lust-induced spell Gortash has placed you under with unnerving ease. His lips curl upward in a mimic of a smile, and yet it looks all too much like an animalistic snarl: far too much fang to be genuine.

"True that may be, but I'm sure you can feel for yourself that isn't the case here," Gortash offers him a quick and easy grin, bloodshot eyes narrowing only slightly.

Deep shame at the realization that Astarion is privy to the bombardment of desire bubbling within your core. Even as you try to hide it, your legs still quiver, heart rabbiting behind your ribs, trying to lock out the scent that cloys up your nostrils to nestle in your brain to stir up memories better left abandoned.

"Oh, I don't know about that. It seems markedly unpleasant to me."

There is a tense insecurity emanating from him, but buried beneath it, there is anger and the vicious snap of jealousy. It's all terribly foreign to him in the way that even the worm has difficulty translating, and it only makes the situation all the more awkward. You haplessly look back at him in a wordless apology, unable to even find the words to properly convey your feelings.

His eyes don't meet yours, but his hand slithers around your waist, tugging you back towards his chest in a territorial show of dominance, and as he does, there is a subtle flash to Gortash's eyes. Astarion does not let you go, and Gortash does not step back. Neither looks at you any further, but rather at each other.

It's a look you recognize; a hunter sizing up his mark.

"Funny. I remember her being capable of speaking for herself." "She's capable of a lot more than that." "Oh, I remember," Gortash cocks his head, and another pang of lust damn near drags you to your knees. Something burrows through your brain, trying to claw its way out. A half-formed memory, dark and lined in velvet; a gold-laden hand curling around your throat, hips rolling against yours so deeply it hurts, the cry of his name from your lips.

You feel Astarion recoil, his face unmoving as iron but his hand clenching enough to pain. Whatever it was, he saw it.

"Yes, well, all in the past, hmm?"

"The future is yet to be written," Gortash arches a brow, his gaze once again drawn down to yours. "Personally, I prefer an authoring hand in my own destiny."

#morgana and friends #astarion x reader #gortash x reader #oooh the girls are fighting #Sorry this is bad I told y'all I was having a rough time of it lately #Ah I love these two

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krahk · 24 days

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Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four

#Hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin #alastorxreader #Alastor x off #Alastor x you #angel dust is the best supporting character #eventual smut #Alastor

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soraontop · 2 months

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II. I WON’T SAY (I’M IN LOVE)

title i won’t say (i’m in love)

summary it’s that first “oh. oh.” moment for sora. chapter 2 to ‘10 things i hate about you’ series

genre fluff, angst, slice of life ???

characters jung sora (8th female member oc of enhypen), jake sim, brief cameos of other enhypen members xx

warnings poly ot7 enhypen au with 8th female member. sora is difficult and emotionally stunted. feelings realization. implications of sora’s not so great home life.

words 3,033

note sorry im a professional procrastinator thats why it took forever 😭 this just isnt my only focus sjfndjd i focus on so many things at once lmao. anyways, pls let me know what u guys think and if theres anything yall wanna see ?? like in the past or present time !!

PREVIOUS.

ISEULLIE: sora check out this video LOL it’s hilarious

ISEULLIE: [link]

Sora stares down at her phone, the YouTube video thumbnail staring back up at her. scorpioz being scorpioz, the title said with the thumbnail saying ‘sorajake being sorajake’. Her brows furrow, eyes darting between the picture of her and Jake mid-laugh, staring at one another over the heads of the other boys.

She curiously clicks the link, and it’s a matter of fifteen seconds before she’s giggling at her phone. She never responds to Iseul until later. In her head, she can’t even hear the bustling noise of Jay making lunch for the group and her members shouts— not that she paid much mind to it, anyway. She grew up as the only girl in a family full of boys, she could typically deal with the noise. The video sends her into a whole new world of Engene made videos of the group, mostly watching the ones concerning her. Almost every video she watches includes Jake. A lot.

She’s never realized how much she really talks to or about Jake. Yes, she’s thought about the ‘what if?’ question that Jake was never in her life and how she’d deal without him. (Her answer: She couldn’t.) But for there to be so many parts to a video series titled “Reasons to Ship JakeSora” was a bit ridiculous.

A knock on her door interrupts her watching, making her sit up in shock before she quickly swipes out of the app and clears her throat, glancing around her room for anything out of place— as if that would tell on her for watching fan made videos of her and her members. Oh, she thinks she’d genuinely die if she was caught. She can never do that again.

“Come in,” she says, hoping the person behind the door wouldn’t notice the waver in her voice. The knob turns and the door opens, revealing Jake standing with a cup of steaming hot ramen in hand. She blinks. Speak of the devil …

Jake grins that stupid crooked smile, kicking the door shut behind him gently. “You haven’t eaten all day, are you going on strike?” Amusement shines in his eyes and she rolls her eyes, an automatic response at this point. He’s almost as bad as Sunghoon, she swears. He holds out the ramen and a pair of chopsticks to her.

“Just too lazy to get up,” she manages to bite back a grin as her lips threaten to twitch. She takes it carefully, blowing on it gently and looks up at the older boy. “Thank you.” She tries not to spit the words out as if they’re poison, but old habits die hard.

Jake notices, but he doesn’t mention it. “Do you want to go watch a movie?” He asks instead, seemingly holding his breath for her reaction.

Sora smiles slightly, feeling her heart warming in her chest, “Yeah, what are we gonna watch?” She grabs her phone and ramen, shoving the phone in her pajama shorts for a free hand.

“I meant, like,” he waves his hand at her, fumbling for the words, “Outside. At a theater.” He then hastily clarifies, “With me.”

“In public?” Sora blinks, surprised. He wants to go out in public with her where it’s inevitable for a fan or some to catch them. Yes, they were seen in public all the time but that was when it was for a schedule. He nods silently.

Strangely enough, to her, it was more intimate to be seen out together without any staff or other members. It meant that he wanted to be seen with her in public.

For a brief, panicky moment, her heart stops at the thought.

Swallowing the taste in her mouth with a bite of ramen, she slowly nods, “Okay. What movie?”

Jake proceeds to ramble on about the movie, what it was about, who was starring in it, what he liked about the trailer. She tries to listen, she really does— but she suddenly finds his lips a lot more interesting. Without even meaning to, her eyes keep dropping from his eyes to his mouth, watching as he’d momentarily pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought about something before saying it.

Horror suddenly fills her chest once she realizes what she’s doing, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving her mouth. Jake, who hears, stops, looking at her in concern, “What? What is it?”

Sora’s face goes blank. “Nothing, the ramen just burned my tongue.”

Jake looks more concerned now, “Shit, I’m sorry, Sora.” He starts to lean forward and she tenses, looking at him with wide eyes as he … tries to inspect her mouth? What the hell was happening? Why was he so concerned? “Is your tongue OK? Let me see—”

Sora was already panicked with how close he was— imagine how much that tripled when he cupped her cheek and tried to urge her to open her mouth. Her heart pounding was so loud in her ears that it blocked out everything else Jake was saying. She didn't know what she was thinking, all she knew was that she had to get away from him and fast, preferably before her heart burst out of her chest.

In her haste to get away, she completely forgot about the cup of ramen in her lap and didn’t secure it before jolting up. With a painful gasp, the ramen tips over and spills over her clothes and bed. To prevent from letting out any other painful mutters, she bit down on her tongue— hard. It wasn’t as bad as she had previously said it was, but it was still warm— warm enough to hurt badly.

“Shit! Sora—” Jake bolts up after her, looking at her soaked clothes with wide eyes. “Fuck, fuck— are you OK?!” He doesn’t wait for her reply before he’s shouting out into the dorm, “Hyung! Jay! Jungwon! Sora’s hurt!”

Oh, don’t tell them that, Jake! A voice in her head groans. She never wants to worry them.

Sora faintly notices the lull of conversation from the boys outside, before she hears multiple loud footsteps rushing towards her room. She shakes her head as her door is pushed open, revealing the rest of her members crowded in the doorway. Jay pushed himself to the front, closely followed by Heeseung and Sunghoon with wide, frantic eyes.

She tries to reassure them that she’s OK, that it’s just a little spill, and a little of a burning, but nothing she’s never handled before. But their voices are overlapping, asking what happened, if she was OK, and Jungwon was rushing in with two towels, quickly wrapping one around her and putting one on the floor to clean up the ramen.

Sora blinks at the noise, getting tired of hearing the same questions so she huffs, raising her voice as she shouts, “Shut up!”

The boys shut up. Sunghoon, even in his worry, manages to raise his eyebrows and point a finger at him as if to ask, “Me?”

She breathes out, looking down at her now dirty clothes, “Thank you. I’m fine. It’s just a little spill.”

“A little spill?” Heeseung asks in disbelief, “Your skin’s red because of how hot it is, Sora.”

She looks down again, tilting her head to see the redness Heeseung claims to see. “Huh.” She murmurs, seeing how unusually red her skin was. “Well … It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“You’re going to feel it in a minute,” Jay quickly grabs her by the wrist gently, pulling her out of her room, passing by the concerned Sunoo and Niki. Her skin tingles where he grabs her, and she’s not so sure the redness on her skin is from the ramen anymore. “Hurry, go take a shower— No hot water. We’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

“Oh, no, really, I’m fine,” Sora laughs lightly, shaking her head, “Like, it’s really not even that bad—”

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother letting her finish her sentence, picking her up and basically dragging her to the bathroom. She can feel Jake’s apologetic and worried eyes on her as she’s dragged out of her own room. “Hey!” She quickly hits him lightly on the shoulder, “Let me go!”

“Alright,” he shrugs, letting Niki push open the bathroom door and quickly shoves her in. She whirls around just in time for the bathroom door to shut in her face.

Her mouth drops open, “Sunghoon!”

“Sunghoon Oppa,” he corrects.

“You earn that title!” Sora hits the door lightly, trying to wiggle the doorknob, but it doesn’t open, “Let me out! I’m OK, please don’t clean it up, I’ve got it!”

“Already started,” Niki’s voice comes through the door, “Too late. Get in the shower before it gets worse, noona, please.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Jungwon chastises her lightly next, “You know it’s the smart thing to do.” She can’t help but feel appalled, again.

“But—”

“No buts!” She can hear Heeseung shout from her room.

Sora resists the urge to throw a tantrum like she would have nearly six years ago. She sighs, the warmth now a dull ache. “I don’t even have clothes to change into!”

“We’ll get you new clothes,” Sunoo reassures her from outside the door now.

“Don’t go through my room!” She says loudly, starting off as a shriek before she forces herself to quieten down. It reminded her too much of her old self. “Just let me out and I’ll—”

“Let you out so you can lock yourself in another room?” Sunghoon sounds somehow both amused and serious now, and she has no idea how, “Get in the shower, Sora.”

“I’ll get you clothes, Sora,” Sunoo says gently, then there was a light thump on the door. She wonders if he’s resting his head on the door like she is. (He is.) “Don’t worry, I won’t snoop or anything.”

“I know, but …” Her voice is uncharacteristically weak, “Just … Get me a shirt and pants, please. I’ll get the rest …” She feels awkward saying it, her brothers were far too young to even want to help her with anything. She wasn’t used to this, being taken care of. She didn’t like it. She also just didn’t want any of the boys going through her room and finding things she never wanted them to see.

There’s a pause, and then footsteps walk away from the bathroom door, but she can tell one or two people are still on the opposite side.

“Sunoo’s getting your clothes,” Sunghoon murmurs, and there’s another pause, “Don’t be stubborn. You know we just want to help.” His footsteps then walk away, too, and she finally relaxes, swallowing as she turns to face the bathroom mirror. The mirror is slightly still fogged from whoever took a shower earlier, and she swipes at it with her hand to look at her body clearly.

She winces at the redness on her arms and thighs, knowing from experience that it would hurt way less later on. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to their managers.

“Sora,” she jumps when she heard Jake’s soft voice on the other side, turning as if she could see him. She slowly walks closer to the door as he says, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to spill on you.”

“It’s OK,” she shakes her head, frowning to herself. “It wasn’t your fault at all, I’m the one who spilled it.”

“But I brought it to you—”

“It should’ve been on the table,” Sora says it like it’s final, leaving no room for an argument. Jake doesn’t reply for a moment and she wonders if he left, but she didn’t hear him walk away.

“Still, it must’ve hurt a lot,” Jake insists.

“I’m used to it,” the words come out of her mouth before she can even think it through. She visibly recoils once she realizes, mouth parting in shock as she starts to frantically look around as if it’d give her an excuse on why she said that. “I— Uh—”

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, his tone being mixed of confusion and cautiousness, and she can imagine him standing on the other side with that cute confused look he gets. She curses herself for somehow managing to think about something like that in a situation like this. It’s just the videos getting to her, she knows it.

Sora sighs, “I just mean I’ve been cooking for a long time, remember? My mom taught me young.” Kind of, but this time she keeps the truth to herself.

“Oh, right,” Jake laughs, sounding relieved. “You know, I thought for a second …” Don’t say it, don’t say it. “You know what? Nevermind. Just … I’m sorry, OK?” Before they can get into another little argument over the same topic, she hears his footsteps walking away.

Sora wants to scream. Her face falls into her hands, slumping against the door. Her hand comes back and lightly smacks herself on the head, “Why, why, why …” So stupid of her to be so careless. They didn’t need to know anything in her home life. That was a mistake.

Why did she feel so compelled to just spill her guts out to Jake? That was the last thing she needed was for him to know anything in general. Sure, the basic stuff about her was fine, but he, nor the others, needed to know anything about her home life. She knew they’d overreact, and she just wanted life to slow down a bit so she could catch her breath.

Forcing herself off the door, she sighs loudly and starts the cold water.

Sora really can’t understand why she’s doing this to herself.

She really does try her best to not avoid Jake the next few days, she doesn’t want him thinking she blames him for the spill, but she also just … needs space. Every time he touches or jokingly flirts with her, even when he just talks to her or says her name, her heart starts pounding and her face gets warm. She’s tired of it, and needs a break. So if she stays close to Sunoo or Heeseung for the majority of the next week, he doesn’t think anything of it.

It’s the middle of the week, and ENHYPEN are at dance practice, already practicing for their first comeback despite still in the middle of promotions for Given-Taken. Sora is ever so unsuspecting, pushing her hair back up with a ponytail as the only sound in the room was her and her members’ loud out of breath panting. The choreographer claps once, “Good job, guys. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sora forces herself to respectfully bow as her members do, waving goodbye to the staff and choreographer that leave. The only people in the room now are the group and their managers, Wooseok and Hyosun, and she glances around to see that Wooseok is calling someone and Hyosun is texting. She turns to look for her water bottle that was no longer in the same place it was before, but is startled when two water bottles were presented to her at the same time.

Feeling a creeping sense of dread, she presses her lips together and looks up, finding both Jay and Jake holding out bottles of water to her. She glances between the two, who glance at her and then to the waters and then to each other. Both of their hands move like they’re going to take it back, but when they both catch what the other is doing, they freeze.

“Um,” Sora murmurs, feeling awkward as her face heats up, mostly out of embarrassment and slightly flustered. She doesn’t like the position she’s in, at all. She notices movement in the corner of her eye and turns her head to see Niki holding up her lilac water bottle in his hand slightly from his spot against the wall. “Yeah, thanks but …” She gestures to Niki, quickly grabbing it from him and starting to chug it down. Half because she really was thirsty, the other half because she wanted to ignore the situation.

Avoiding eye contact with the other members, who were watching the awkward moment, she sits in between Heeseung and Sunoo. Pressing the cool bottle against her cheek, she waits a few moments before looking back up to see if anyone was still staring at her.

Her eyes connect with Jay’s and she abruptly turns her head back to the floor, feeling her face get impossibly hot, even with the water bottle. She feels like she just got caught doing something she shouldn’t have done.

There had to be something seriously wrong with her.

“Your face is really red,” Heeseung whispers from beside her, and she turns her head to stare at him. He blinks. She blinks before turning her head back to the floor.

“Yeah, we just got done practicing,” she mutters, swallowing. She’s afraid if she stares any longer, he’ll be able to know what she’s thinking.

Here’s the thing— Sora isn’t dumb. She was placed in the top three of her class, and she was sure to get into any university she wanted. She’s also been in a relationship before, she’s had plenty of crushes— she knows. But she can’t.

Not when they’re her members.

If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t think much into it and would let it pan out.

And it wasn’t even just one of them. It was two. She really was proving netizens right. And she hated it. So what was she going to do?

Ignore it and hope it goes away. And if not, well … She was pretty sure that plan would work. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t.

As long as she remains strictly platonic with her members, everything would be fine. She’s worked too damn hard to get where she is now, she’s been through two survival shows, and she wasn’t going to go on another one again. She would succeed in her dream.

Still, she seems to forget that the heart wants what it wants.

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sturniololoco · 2 months

Note

Hiii idk if you’ll be able to do this request but I wanted to ask!! Do you think you could do a SLS story based of Sam and Colby’s recent yt vid with the triplets? Like maybe she gets rlly scared and her brothers comfort her or smth like that. I love your work btw :)) 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Scared Shitless

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: Ghosts, panic attacks, crying, etc.

SLS/N's POV

I was beyond excited once my brothers and I got invited to collaborate with Sam and Colby.

I started counting down the days till we left for Austin, and it had finally arrived!

I was sitting in the back of the van, my legs across Nick's lap. He was quietly scrolling through his phone while Matt and Chris talked quietly upfront.

I had one of my headphones in, watching some old Sam and Colby videos, just to see what I was getting myself into.

I was so excided, but that excitement turned to fear as we pulled up into the hotel parking lot.

We met the two YouTubers in the lobby of the creepy hotel, giving them side hugs, having met them once before.

"Who ready!?" Sam asked us, giving us a smile as we looked curiously around the hotel.

My brothers raised their hands and cheered in excitement while I stayed quiet, a little on edge while being in the hotel.

Soon after meeting Sam and Colby, our tour guide came over and introduced herself to us and the camera, starting the tour, totally flirting with Chris the whole time.

But not even that could ease the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The tour had gone smoothly and we were now starting to film our experiments.

It started with the flashlights. You asked us questions and responded, almost perfectly every time.

This made my skin crawl and my breathing uneven, but I held in my panic, not wanting to spoil the video or my brother's fun.

"Hey, you okay?" Chris asked me in a whisper, nudging my arm slightly with his own.

I nodded, saying,

"Oh- yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm totally good."

At this point, I was trying to convince myself. Trying to talk myself into calmness.

Chris gave me a disapproving look as I continued to nod, trying my best to sell my lie, but not doing a very good job.

"Just get me, Matt, or Nick, if it gets to be too much, okay?" He said, rubbing my arm slightly while giving me a soft smile.

I nodded, his words already comforting me as I felt my heartbeat go down. And thankfully, it was time to move on to the next investigation.

The room was dark and closed in, no matter the ghost-sensing lights and camera light. I was feeling absolutely sick to my stomach at the thought of being trapped in this room with ghosts.

And the fact that they were answering our questions perfectly did not help.

At all.

My breathing was short and detached by the time we stopped the camera to move on to the next thing.

the lights were still off in this tiny room, possibly filled with spirits.

"M-Matt..." I stuttered, my heartbeat moving at a rapid pace, banging against my rib cage.

"hey, Sam, you mind if we take 5?" Matt asked, grabbing my hand and leading me outside as the blonde boy nodded.

He took me out into the dim light of the corridor outside the creepy room and sat me down against the wall, kneeling in front of me, still holding my hand.

"Hey, breathe sweet girl. Just breathe...In...and out... that's it." He said, tracing shapes on the back of my hand while I struggled to get my breathing right.

I could feel the tears trickling down my face, but Matt's soft, calm voice was easing me out of my panicked state.

Once I was slightly back to normal and the tears weren't falling like a waterfall, my other two brothers came out in the hallway and sat next to me.

"We can stop if you need to get out of here," Nick said, giving me a side hug.

I immediately shook my head no, saying,

"i-I think I'll be fine. Just don't leave me anywhere."

Chris grabs my other hand gently and gives it a little squeeze.

"of course not sis, we'll be right here the whole time.

I nod and stand up, clutching onto Chris's hand as we walk back to Sam and Colby, ready to start the next challenge.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch! One of my brothers stayed with me at all times, helping me face my fear.

"I'm so proud of you for facing your fear kiddo!" Matt said as we began to drive back to our non-spirited hotel.

He looked at me through the rearview mirror, giving me a proud smile.

I smiled back, thinking,

I wouldn't have been able to do it without my amazing brothers.

I have some more Sam and Colby x SLS if y'all want me to do that! Let me know!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

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what-even-is-thiss · 2 years

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Changing people's minds on major things is actually a very long and difficult process for both parties. I didn't actually believe that pedestrian-centric city design would be better for people that drive cars until I spent almost a year living without a car and watched hours of youtube videos explaining the issue to me. Turns out that traffic actually does go down and driving does become more pleasant if you make it harder to drive a car and easier to walk. I just straight-up refused to believe that for years. Because people just talked about it like it was obvious. But it wasn't. Because I had spent my whole life in a car-centric city going around in a car and also I was an English major in college who did not study urban planning. You can't expect me to change my entire mindset around transportation all at once. I did reach a eureka moment like two weeks ago but that was after like three years of getting exposed to these ideas periodically and living without a car for 11 months.

And yeah this post is about my big dumb animal brain accepting the science behind narrow roads and the evils of certain types of zoning laws, but it's also about stuff in general. If you don't know why someone isn't changing their mind on something, it's probably because the information they're getting hasn't reached a critical mass in their monkey brain yet. Whenever you hear stories about people changing their minds on things or leaving a certain ideology the story never goes "A person on the internet did a slam dunk on me and then I changed my mind."

It's usually a long process that happens over the course of months or years. Seeds planted here and there that coalesce eventually into a new thought or ideology over the course of years or snap together or send someone down a new path after a certain event. Same with me about pedestrian-centric cities. For me the tipping point was finding this video, which isn't necessarily super special or the best and the guy who runs the channel, in my opinion, isn't the most qualified or the most sympathetic towards every city in every situation, but it was the feather that tipped the scales in my brain to "Oh, wait. Maybe everything I thought I knew about how cities work is wrong actually." But that video alone didn't change my mind. With the amount of stuff and people that have gradually and gently been giving me information over the past couple years, something else was bound to eventually change my mind.

People on Tumblr yelling about abolishing the car, if anything, slowed down me changing my mind. Every time I saw a person saying that driving cars is stupid and that cars are bad I took a step back into my old way of thinking in defense. Because I grew up only ever using a car to get around. Rhetoric like that felt like a direct attack on my family, who I know to be loving people who care about other human beings and who drive cars literally everywhere.

And you might say, posts and videos like that aren't actually an attack on people that drive or have to drive. Okay then. Why are they phrased like that? Because that makes you feel good? Because you're angry? Alright, your anger at how it's currently impossible to get around if you don't own a car and how people who don't actually want to drive are being forced to drive is reasonable. And now I understand why it exists. I'm kind of angry too now that I get how this stuff works. However, is calling the people you're trying to convince stupid to their face and immediately bombarding them with your most radical ideas that might be completely detached from their reality and how they understand the world really the most productive way to channel your anger?

What about a guy with a knee problem that lives in rural Appalachia? Do you think he is gonna be convinced by your angry rants about bike lanes? No. He lives on a mountain that he can't climb or bike up because he's disabled and has only ever known getting around in a car. What about a person who overheats easily living in a suburb in the middle of the desert? Do you think she is inspired by your green lush pictures of trolleys running through parks in The Netherlands? No. If she leaves her house for too long without ice water she could literally die and you're going on about getting rid of, in her mind, the only thing that lets her go to the grocery store and not faint.

And again, this post is about my inability to comprehend walkable cities, but it's also about everything else you might ever want to convince someone of. The way you talk about things with your in-group that knows exactly what you're talking about should not be the same way you talk about that thing with people that you're genuinely trying to convince of something.

#roman said a thing #rant #ok to reblog

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usedpidemo · 1 year

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Thinking about you (Choi Yena)

——————

Thank you @capslocked for reading and input <3

——————

> How have you been doing? I miss u ㅠㅠ

> I hope you’re taking care of yourself and eating well ㅠㅠ

> I can’t wait for you to hear the comeback!

> Let’s meet each other soon

> I hope you’re thinking of me too

—————

She was absolutely right.

You missed her. The old her. Clear flashes of her energetic, glowing face persisted, but so did those unfathomable, lewd expressions.

You never looked at Yena the same way you did before. She was an entirely different person after the day you met.

Not a single night passes by without you restlessly thinking about the fanmeet. You got way more than your money’s worth, even if it punched a hole so deep in your pocket that only recently began to heal from. It was both the best and the worst night of your life. Almost six months have passed, yet it hasn’t sunk fully in your head that this bright, cutesy idol moonlights as an eager cockslut to her most dedicated supporters.

That isn’t to say you’ve never stopped supporting her. To the dismay of your neighbors, her music plays over a hundred times a day inside your apartment, any of her social media posts is an automatic like, and you don’t open up YouTube without watching at least one video of her, be it a performance or her other content. It’s an obsession bordering on lunacy; it might actually be lunacy.

Your credit card may as well be linked with Yena, even though she’s nothing but an idol to you. In her eyes, you’re just a mere fan. Since that fateful day, you didn’t spend a single coin on any of her merch—not even when she had her first comeback—but you’ve always kept that Universe membership active. That notification from the app is your version of the morning newspaper. Your daily routine grinds to a complete halt whenever you hear that sound. Your brain hardwired itself to instinctively grab the phone, dash and flick through the screen, as if your life depended on it.

On the screen are four new photos. Usually she sends selfies with a common style: Acting cutesy and bright, pouting and puckering her trademark duck lips on camera. This time, it’s different.

It’s only ever seen seldomly in live performances—think her red top at that one festival or a similarly matching green crop she previously wore—but she’s rocking a white crop top with jeans, perfect belly exposed, complemented by faux panties linked to her pants. Her plaid is dropped down her arms, shoulders fully exposed. It’s bold. It’s scandalous. To almost everyone else, it’s a dramatic shift from her bubbly concepts, but you, along with a lucky few, have already seen this before—far beyond explicit detail.

Immediately, your thoughts return back to last summer. Quick, vivid flashes of her in every lewd position imaginable play in your head. Whenever you see that face, you can’t help but be reminded of how you were atop her, how your cock was deep inside her mouth, and how she was carelessly used by five different men, including you. A cloud of guilt and trauma lingers over you, still incapable of grasping how this cute girl with a colorful image, enjoys being taken in such a pornographic manner.

Still, the door to the past remains open, enough for a little light to seep in—or in this case, darkness.

Another bell, another notification. She follows up her jaw dropping photos with three perfectly timed messages:

> I can’t wait to show you a different side of me ㅠㅠ

> Some of you already have ;)

> You mean a lot to me, jigumi

It’s almost like she’s reading your mind, actively dissecting your thought process, and using the right words to drag you back into that darkness. Most people would definitely embrace and relish in it, but not you. In your eyes, she’s still an idol with a family friendly image to uphold, and not everything is tainted, but when Yena herself comes out with these kinds of photos and outfits, you’re like a parent dumbfounded at their child for being rebellious.

She’s an adult and she can do whatever she wants—you acknowledge this—but your heart feels heavy seeing her act this bold and confident.

A handful times you’ve considered dropping her. It’s not like she’s the only idol you like; you like her former members just as much, some of which are prospering in their new groups, but you’ve always had a special connection to Yena, one that was corrupted when you participated in that fanmeet. She’s still the same Yena, with the same charms that caught your attention, but it seems as if you’re looking at a clone or a variant. It doesn’t feel the same.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door, interrupting your deep contemplation. It’s probably one of your neighbors, as usual. Lxxk 2 You plays over the big television subwoofers, bass thumping, loud as if it were a concert, and it’s that time of the night when most working people should be sleeping. You should be preparing for bed too, but you’re considering other activities before you get some shut eye.

So you hop off from the couch and walk over to the flat’s entrance, powering the music down to ear-friendly levels. You open the door, and your face goes wide, completely in shock.

It takes everything in you not to shout like the building’s on fire. Celebrities shouldn’t be visiting middle class apartments randomly, nor should they be knocking on people’s doors, especially this late at night—unless an entire camera crew is behind them. Not a single camera person or hidden camera in sight.

This has to be some sort of elaborate stage prank, because the timing couldn’t be any more on point; then again, that’s what you thought when she began undressing in front of you.

Yena’s standing at your apartment entrance, grinning from ear to ear. In her tiniest, squeakiest tone, she whispers, “Hi.”

As if you were gonna say anything back, and even if you had something to say, the overwhelming emotions you’re feeling derail your train of thought.

She playfully leans her face close to yours, eyes scanning your idle, unintentionally humorous expressions. “Looks like someone’s happy to see me again.”

An understatement. Despite the emotional conflict you were dealing with, no words and no width of a smile can express how excited you were to see her in the flesh—and right at your doorstep, no less. Unless—

“It’s—it’s y-you, right? Tell me this isn’t a joke.” Doubt makes itself evident in your anxious tone. You didn’t want to expect much, only for that hope to be ripped to shreds.

“Of course it’s me!” Yena puts her hands on her waist, jokingly pouting, as if she was offended. “Who else would be knocking on your door this late at night?”

Blinking rapidly while you stare, still in utter disbelief, a momentary pause before you reply, “My neighbors?”

“Really?” Expecting a predictable answer, only to be subverted, her eyes dilate. “I’m sorry. I can come back next week if you want—”

“No!” The scream you let out echoes throughout the hallway, foregoing any form of built up subtlety. Joke or not, it’s far too soon for this fleeting moment to end. “I—I didn’t expect you to show up like this at all.”

“Nobody does.” Yena giggles, and it’s cute, warm, and everything that drew you to her in the first place. “Anyway, if you want me to stay, you can invite me inside your place and we can talk some more.”

She didn’t need to add a follow up smile. You were always going to welcome her regardless of whether or not she said anything.

—————

Call it hyperbole, but you’re really caught up in your own feelings. How wishy-washy you are— contemplating whether supporting Yena was the right thing to do, only to drop those questions the moment she appears at your doorstep, reminding you that nothing of value was lost.

From the dining area, Yena casually watches you teeter across your little kitchen, holding that smile from outside your flat. Ignore the hot kettle in your hand; you can’t last even a few seconds without looking in her direction, sometimes meeting her gaze. When your eyes do meet, there’s a spark, a connection taking form, but it’s make-belief inside your head. She has a finger gently placed on her rosy cheek. It gives you butterflies in your stomach. Then her grin broadens an inch wider, and your heart races. Every little thing she does makes you flutter, as if you’re having a crush on someone for the first time.

Yena has this large racing jacket layered on top of what appears to be a gray sleeveless dress shirt with matching color skirt, striking a balance between quirky and attractive. Even outside of her profession, she always dresses unconventionally—probably because it’s her style, and not only because she wants to stand out. Had she appeared in that fit from the photos she sent half an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been able to control yourself.

Despite the beautiful distraction occasionally getting in the way of your focus, somehow, you’re able to brew up some hot chocolate to serve to your guest. She already had dinner earlier—she told you right as you led her inside—and thank goodness for that; you didn’t want her to use your bathroom for all the wrong reasons, make her second guess the decision to randomly visit a fan out of the blue, especially right before a comeback. Worst case scenario would be a reported hospitalization and the postponing of many different schedules, all because of you.

Can you imagine the fallout?

It’s probably best not to think about it too much, especially after she drank through the whole mug like it was a bowl of ramen. There’s small residue, tiny little specks on her lips, and she has this gleeful, childlike look in her eyes.

God, you’re so cute, you think to yourself.

“It’s really good,” she says, turning her gaze to you, shifting to a more businesslike stance in a snap, smiling and nodding. “Thank you.”

No words can describe how mushy your heart feels. Being complimented by your favorite idol—your favorite person—has to be one of the highest forms of validation possible. You’re set for life. If she tells you to quit your job to sell drinks instead, you’d drop the resignation letter in a heartbeat.

“Would you like another?” you ask. The joy is too much to contain, cutting loose in the form of a toothy grin.

“This is enough, but thanks,” she replies, and you’re brought back down to earth again. Still, this memory will last as long as you live.

Deep in thought, her eyes roll down to the empty mug. Her index finger runs loops around the cup’s edge. Even when she’s doing seemingly mundane things to pass the time, you’re left in awe of how gorgeous she looks. You already saw her before, under different circumstances, and she was everything you hoped for—far better than what any camera captured. Here, with less makeup and with a more casual fit, she was as close to perfection as she can possibly be.

You look at her for what appears to be hours, soaking in the sight of a homely Yena you’ve previously only imagined in dreams. The way you stare at her, scan even the tiniest of motions, and examine every little part of her leans on disturbing at points, yet she doesn’t say a word, nor does she care to glance in your direction. She appears lost in thought, mindlessly using the cup as a tool to exercise her brain. You’re anxious to say a word, let alone ask a question—and you’ve got plenty.

“I bet you’re wondering,” she says suddenly, tone hushed, eyes focused on the mug’s base, index finger still running laps on the edge. Pausing, she repeats herself, reforming her train of thought. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Yeah.”

There’s one of your questions, delivered in a way you’re unable to. At least she knew that one, but she may as well have known everything inside your head over the last several months.

“I like to remember the people in my fanmeets.” She lifts her finger off the cup, cleans the stains off the fingerprints by rubbing it against the wooden surface of the table. “And I checked who I haven’t spoken to in a while, and guess what? We haven’t interacted since then. At all.”

Your eyebrows lift, concerned more than surprised. “You’ve been visiting your fans?”

Her eyes slide up, meeting yours in a magnetic gaze. She flashes you a grin, no different from any of her other smiles, but you’re immediately smitten. “I do.”

There’s a pause, a moment where you stare into each other like you’re both in love. You’re smiling too.

“I mean—I don’t go out of my way to visit them.” Yena breaks the tension, averting eye contact. The right sleeve of her jacket slides down, exposing a lot of shoulder and skin. It’s dangerous, how nonchalant at how sexy she is. “Everyone sends me a message, and they usually run over to my place to do the thing, then they leave.”

“Damn,” you comment, taken aback by her sudden reveal. “You let everyone run through you so easily?”

“I don’t hate it. I enjoy it.” Yena fires a mild scowl at you, seemingly insulted by the manner in how you said it. “You were there, you know.”

You lean back into your chair, rattled by her sudden stern demeanor. “Yeah, but—”

“Idol life is exhausting. I’m sure you know that, right?” interjects Yena, half pouting and half grimacing, her brows lowered. “I need an outlet from all the stress, and what better way than to get some from my fans? They get to feel good, and I feel good too. It’s a win-win.”

“It has to hurt at some point,” you reply, even more worried. The thought of Yena being used on a daily basis many times agonizes you, yet you never really mused the idea when you were using her mouth.

“I’m used to it, don’t worry.” She relaxes her composure, gradually returning to her softer side. “You weren’t this worried when you were shoving that long dick of yours down my throat.”

Consider your argument invalid. You look down at the table, guilty as charged.

“Something up? I remember how hesitant and nervous you were, but you still used me like everyone else.” She holds your hand, drawn into a knuckle, inching her face a bit closer to yours. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”

You sigh. “I don’t know if I should say it to you directly.”

“You can tell me everything.” Yena says it with endearing conviction, as if she were your therapist. Here’s the thing, though: you have no experience with one.

You pause, then you sigh. Again. There’s a line between her invitation and your doubt tugging at you from opposite ends. Months of pent-up turmoil and internal conflict, ready to unload all at once. You have to remind yourself that she's an idol, not your personal counselor, and it may prove to be overwhelming even for her. There’s her hand, tenderly resting on yours, lulling you into a sense of security, but here comes your mind, acting in ‘self-defense’, feeding you negative thoughts like the three meals you eat every day.

For a third time, you sigh.

Fuck it. You’ve got nothing to lose, anyway.

“God—where do I begin—” you huff, tilting your eyes in the opposite direction, dodging Yena’s perceptive gaze. A brief silence follows. You’re hesitant, undecided on whether to tell all or keep it to yourself, but your toes are already deep in the water—might as well dive in. “I—I thought you were special.”

Yena angles her face, quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“I really liked you from the beginning, when you were still on Produce,” you reply, eyes now facing the direction of the living room. There are a handful of framed photos, mostly Yena photocards from previous releases. “I don’t know how I can properly explain it, but—” you pause. Swallow that lump in your throat. “You were different from every idol I’ve followed before.”

She frowns. The hold on your hand becomes a tad bit tighter.

“Gosh, this is gonna sound so cheesy—” you quietly mutter, chuckling at what you’re about to say. Yena fails to suppress her own giggle, her hand trembling. “But—I thought you were just the best, you know? So funny, so cute, and so talented in every way. You were the perfect girl. Still are.”

Her cheeks blush a bright flowery pink. “That’s really sweet of you to say. Is this a romantic confession?”

“God damn it, Yena—” you quietly groan, rolling your eyes back to your skull. Way to ruin a serious moment with humor. “Kind of! If you want to look at it that way—”

“Not the first time someone outwardly asked me to be their girlfriend. Sorry to tell you this, but I’m kind of busy with myself to have relationships.”

“I mean—no! I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, obviously—”

“I wonder what she’s gonna say about this one—”

To your dismay, Yena smirks.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, ugh—” you grumble, annoyed. On the other hand, she’s laughing heartily, enjoying every single moment of the exchange. “Can I just cut to the point?”

She cackles a bit longer before gradually calming down. “Okay, okay. Continue.”

“Okay, where was I? Perfect girl. Right. Point is, I wanted to follow your career and watch you succeed. So when I heard you were coming out with a fun and colorful concept, I was so excited. I knew it was the perfect match for your personality. God, you had no idea how overjoyed I was when I found out I was gonna finally meet you face to face. All that album spending was finally worth it. Then the day arrived, I thought it was gonna be simple and fun. God.”

“Then what happened?” she asks, casually, seemingly oblivious to the sudden widening of your eyes. There’s trauma written on both of them.

“Then you started stripping.”

The little smile on her lips curls, turning serious. “And then?”

You couldn’t really answer, not because you didn’t know—you do—but because you don’t want to elaborate. Even thinking about it now, with whatever confidence you’ve mustered up until this point, this is as far as your resolve can go.

Sighing, you say, “You became tainted to me.”

Yena nods. Ridiculous as it sounds, she immediately understands. “Oh.”

You feel something loosen; it’s her hand on yours, pulling away. A tense silence follows, while you both ruminate over everything that you’ve said. It’s heavy—perhaps a bit too much to take in all at once, like you predicted.

“I still don’t regret it,” she says, pouting. Call it cold, insensitive, or callous, she shows no sign of remorse. “But I understand where you’re coming from. Look at this young idol, she’s cute and sweet, but then she lets herself get used by everyone for fun. I guess you wanted me all to yourself? I don’t blame you. Everyone wants me for themselves, too.”

For a moment, she was close to figuring it out. For a moment.

“It’s not even that,” you reply, unamused at the somewhat narcissistic answer. “I mean—you’re not wrong—”

“There you go!” Yena interrupts, internally celebrating and patting herself on the back. “You’ve said it yourself that you wanted me too. Well, here I am—”

“It’s not that simple!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air out of frustration. Forget that she was an idol, forget that she was a guest—you’re yelling at her the same way you argue with your landlord about rent. “Can you listen to me for just one moment?”

She looks at you, eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen, stunned, speechless.

For a moment, you hesitate, regret almost immediately striking you in the gut. You don’t blame her if she decides to walk out on you. Wasting time arguing with a fan should be the least of her priorities. She’s a soloist who can go about with her career in any way she wants. You have just as little power over her as anyone else—none.

“God, forget about it,” you say. If there was any moment not to be human, not to be you, it would be now. “I mean—I really do want you, but I just—”

“No, no. Go on. I’m listening.” Yena’s tone and expressions are dead serious—a far cry from the usual jumpy side she normally shows. Her hand snakes back to grab yours. At first, you draw it an inch back, until you change your mind and reach it out for hers again. An olive branch of sorts.

“I don’t know where to begin, Yena. You’re so cute,” you say, staring into her starry eyes, twinkling under the dining room light. “I didn’t expect you to be such a—um, you know—”

“A cock slut?” She says it so casually, it’s off-putting to the ear. It still feels weird to hear those two words come out from those seemingly sweet lips, even though you’ve heard them before.

“Yeah. A cock slut.” The words escape your mouth like puke. You can feel your conscience gradually die calling her one, worse than any profanity you’ve ever spoken. “Can you not—”

“Of course, of course.” Yena nods. “Sorry.”

“Anyway—” You pat her hand tenderly, rolling your eyes while you condense your thoughts into something coherent. “Look, I just—I really can’t tell if you’re still Yena after what happened. I know this is so stupid, but I always liked your cute image, and now it’s ruined.”

She caresses your hand back, showing a little reassuring smile. “Aw. I’ve heard that before, and I understand where you’re coming from, but as an artist, I want to make the music I want, and I want to be more than one-dimensional. I want to show sides I never could when I was in a group. I want to be great at everything, so you can be proud of supporting a multi-talented idol.”

“I’m already proud of you,” you whisper. “You’re already perfect in my eyes.”

“I appreciate it, and I appreciate you for supporting me all these years.”

Next thing you know, your hands are no longer on each other—they’re caressing rosy cheeks, feeling the warmth and affection of the other’s skin. You’re staring. With much of the angst you’ve repressed is finally poured out, there’s nothing left except a growing desire of want and lust.

“So, you don’t want to support me anymore?” she asks. Seeing the disheartening look on her features breaks your heart. It’s like saying farewell to a best friend going away, never to be seen again. “I understand, but I am always grateful—”

“No. I still want to cheer you on. I just—this is just a little too fast for me, seeing you mature gracefully.”

Her smile grows a bit wider. After the dark clouds, the sun shines brighter. It’s not over. “I’m still young, so I’m not maturing that fast. At the end of the day, I’ll always be your duck—and your smiley hero.”

—————

It happened way too fast. Love makes no sense.

How quick those tense moments fly by, only to be replaced by bliss so shortly after.

She kissed you, pulled you close by the fabric of your shirt. Feelings of a long distance relationship that may have blossomed in another life spring forth. It’s reconciliation. It's a reconnection.

It’s like the last half-hour of superficial melodrama never even happened.

Then again, you should have known exactly why she was here to begin with.

Before you know it, you’re making out with each other passionately as you head into the bedroom together. Her jacket’s long gone, forgotten somewhere in your living room. Based on how muted the music has become, you may have a hunch as to where it ended up. There’s little resistance from your end; you submit to her quicker than when you shared her with others.

Some things are best experienced alone, and making love with Yena is one of them.

Your lips trace down to her chin, to her soft, sensitive neck. She whines. It’s a sweet sound that tickles your ears. Raising her head up for greater access, you leave marks deep into her flesh, assert full ownership of her body, even just for one night. You hold her by her shoulders, hugging her like your favorite pillow, kissing her delicious, mushy skin, leaving red blemishes on her cute figure, glowing brighter than the sun.

“Mmm, this feels so good,” she whines, humming. She grabs a fistful of your hair while weaving her other hand between your chest lightly pressing on hers. The little separation breaks your attention. When you regain some semblance of restraint, you note the last of the buttons on her dress shirt come off, a black bra revealed behind it. With an inviting smirk, she looks at you with glazed eyes, indicating what she wants without the need for words.

There’s a tinge of anger, some leftover frustration, in those hands of yours. You shove her down, send her crashing to the bed. It only serves to arouse Yena even further. Your pupils are dilating, driven crazy by the lewd scene playing out in real time. It’s a possessed, hungry stare, ignoring all those endless hours of existential contemplation within mere seconds.

How quick you are to throw away your qualms on a whim.

She looks up at you with an intense, deep glare. Instantly getting up from the fall, her fingers dig deep into your pants.

She isn’t the only thing quick to rise tonight.

Your pants are the next to fall, shortly followed by your underwear. Only now do you realize the disparity between you and Yena—how you’ve been talking to her in your pajamas while she’s dressed up like a star. Given the circumstances, you’re not at fault, but still—shameful. The only thing saving you from embarrassment is your lack of self-awareness, and that your erect cock demands complete attention. Soon, those carefully curated nails dig into your skin, making you wince. A brief retaliation. It’s not like you can do anything back, even if she gracefully relinquished control to you.

Nothing worth getting flustered for, you’ll both be down to your barest shortly.

“Can I?” asks Yena, in her cutest tone, hot air against your tip making you shiver. It’s almost fucked how she pleads to you while readying herself to do the one of the filthiest things imaginable. Tip barely grazing her strawberry lips, her nails itching to grab you by the length, it would be criminal at this point to say no.

You barely notice you’ve given your approval. Almost immediately she takes your tip into her mouth with a delicate hum, so hungry to taste you, so eager to claim you. It takes every bit of your strength not to crumble right then and there, not to succumb to your weakness, clutching at her raven colored locks for support. Both her hands grab you by your girth, stroking your shaft as she plunges it deeper into her maw, devouring you.

Every breath you take is tense, like it’s the last one before you inevitably drown. Based on how consumed you are by pleasure, you’re practically halfway there. Mouth agape, eyes completely shut, hands gripping and losing hold of Yena repeatedly while she vigorously sucks your cock, purring with delight as she engulfs you with her wetness and spit.

“Ummmppfff.” Yena releases your dick from her mouth with a sloppy pop, your shaft now coated in a fresh sheen of saliva and precum. The relief is only temporary as she leashes your cock with her hand, pumping you at a steady but excruciating tempo.

When you manage to reopen your eyes, the first thing you see is the pornographic expression in her eyes meeting you halfway as her tongue laps up your tip, followed by your underside, then down to your balls, swallowing some of it in her mouth. Kissing around your balls, she refocuses her attention back to your cock as it leaks some more.

“Oh my God—” you groan, still holding onto her locks, before the rest of your unspoken words deteriorate into nothing more than pleasurable, erotic sounds. In some twisted form of appreciation, she pecks up your balls as your tip stains her tiny nose, before putting your girth back into her mouth again.

The short bursts of moans you make spiral into a strain of prolonged, breathy groans. Add the occasional drop of her name and a curse, and it’s the perfect string of praises to give to her. Yena’s tempo goes haywire, losing herself in ecstasy of your cock deeply buried in the back of her throat without any gag reflex. She’s all blushed up, makeup and sweat and precum glazed on a perfect canvas—an expression of wanton desire. Before it dawns on you, she surrenders herself to your most basic of urges, allowing you to fuck her face without consideration for thought or comfort.

The hair tie keeping her locks together loosens. Another chain unshackled. You don’t really need your eyes open to know how much Yena loves your cock—how she tightly keeps your shaft sealed between her lips with each thrust, how she sings the sweetest song, and how much spit she lathers all over your shaft. All of these sensations combine for a shiver that’s the closest experience to heaven, almost as if she’s ripping your soul out of you.

Yena rushes the pace even further, grabs your ass from underneath you. She doesn’t care that she chokes and coughs from desperation to fill her mouth. She knows something you don’t. The signs are starting to show: the rapidly expanding tension in your loins and the quivering in your legs—an inevitable climax is about to happen, and you’re trying in vain to keep yourself in this position even a second longer than you deserve.

“Fuck, Yena, I’m gonna—”

Determined, she pushes you against her, makes sure your cock is tickling the deepest part of her throat. It’s enough of a rush that spikes an incomprehensible high before you’re sent spiraling back down to earth almost as quickly. Just like that, you’re gone. Your body shuddering, Yena takes you all in like an open faucet, thirstily swallowing every thick, warm shot of cum down her dry throat.

She releases your withering cock from her airtight lips with a familiar sounding pop, breaking the thin connection between her mouth and your tip made of saliva and seed. Playfully, she swallows her throat in a show of glee, grinning from ear-to-ear. That’s the first thing you see when you regain your senses.

Your legs are barely holding out, only supported by whatever willpower left in you remains, and your hand pressed into her long, loose dark locks. While you’re gathering yourself, she grips onto your thighs, licks the tip with her filthy, cum-stained tongue, then around the rest of your shaft to render it ‘clean.’

You consider that a night well spent, and more than enough, but for Yena, one isn’t enough. To her, it was merely an appetizer.

“You done?” she asks, innocently, but to your ears, it’s almost teasing, mocking—at your poor stamina.

“Not yet,” you say, still gasping in between.

“That’s what I wanna hear.”

Yena pulls you overhead, sends you down to the bed on all fours, hovering atop her lithe figure. It’s an arousing sight enough to make you hard, but sore—and you’re slowly coming around the fact that you sorely needed her. So you lean down and kiss her, show her intimacy you’ve previously only done in private, behind these same closed doors by yourself, when it was only you and a photograph of her.

Kiss her again. The way it plays out seems ripped directly from your dreams, but something seems a bit off—she still has the rest of her clothes on.

So you quickly dispose of them, to the floor where they belong—bra first, followed by her panties. In between, you shower her with delicate kisses down her body, from her chin and neck, to her chest as you peel the lingerie off her, down to her toned tummy. You reach between her groin, make instant work of her underwear, and note her already sopping, wet cunt.

That too, you give a kiss of appreciation.

Right as you’re about to leave, Yena’s thighs begin to clench between your face, denying you an opportunity to leave without a taste of her as well. It’s a brutal sweeping force pulling you in, and you can do nothing but concede, allowing yourself to get swept away in her over wetness. Her body writhes, squirms as you indulge in her, lapping your tongue around her tasty flesh and her sensitive clit.

“Mm—oh t-that’s so—f-fuck—” she whines, tensing up and body clenching tighter as you devour her with greater hunger than what she did to your cock.

It only serves to spur you on, unlocks a deeper level of thirst and instinct you thought you never had. With a frenzied pace, your tongue sticks to her mouthwatering clit like a magnet, with her mmms and aaahs in the background urging you to take it all. Any spilled drop of her would be a waste, and you're determined to make sure none of it goes anywhere except your mouth.

Her body quickens and accelerates to its natural bliss, faster than you expected, and you can feel every nerve, every fiber burn and tense beyond the point of repair, yet she can’t—and won't—stop moaning, unable to keep herself shouting with ecstasy, crying out your name like you’re her savior. Hands gripped on the sheet, she eagerly anticipates the moment you’ll deliver her to her nirvana, her paradise, and you’re working your hardest to bring her there.

Digging your fingers between your thighs, you slip a digit around her delicate folds, and it drives her mad. She lets out her loudest yelp, a scream worth a neighbor’s concern, but you’re beyond past caring for subtlety. Let them knock, let them burst through the door. They’ll have to drag you away for you to stop.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, I—”

It’s on a rather weak flick that sends her careening over the edge. Your face becomes a vessel for a torrent of ambrosia, of gooey juices to gush over. She twitches and groans, enveloped in a shockwave of her own high. Releasing your fingers from inside her, you barely hold her upright, keep her legs suspended in limbo while you’re still an outlet of pleasure she uses to fill up.

Winding down, the grip on her thighs loosens. For the first time in minutes, you can finally breathe. When you emerge from her delicious clit, you’re a beautiful mess, a canvas made of ecstasy and slick—an image she always draws for every fan she meets, and perfectly recreates.

And it still isn’t enough to satiate her.

“I need that dick inside me,” says Yena, delivered low and seductive. She extends her arm out, points out your already hard cock. This was her plan all along—to buy time while you ready yourself for the second time. “I can’t go without at least one nice warm load in this wet pussy.”

You sigh—not out of frustration, but exhaustion.

She smirks and silently giggles. “I didn’t see you grumble like that at the fanmeet. Now that we’re all alone, you have me all to yourself. Come on. Use me. Fuck me.”

It’s not just in the way she says such profane, salacious words to lure you, it’s in the elaborate order she says them—like she’s practiced it meticulously a thousand times, and knowing everything now, it makes complete sense.

Yet with the way your body moves, how you almost immediately respond to her call, it works to near perfection.

Hand on your cock, you hover atop her, line your shaft against her sopping cunt, force a gentle whine in response. Testing the waters, you whisper against her lips, “How do you want it?”

“Any way you want,” she mumbles back, smiling sweetly, but the intent behind the expression is anything but. Her hand traces the outline of your free arm, up to your cheek, caressing your face tenderly—a display of gentleness in the middle of high tension. “From here, from behind, on all fours—maybe even my mouth again. All up to you.”

So many options to choose from, you wish you had the strength and the endurance to do them all—maybe in that order as well. It’s an inconsequential question and challenge, but the decision making is more than existential. You don’t know when you’ll get to have an opportunity like this again.

Her lidded eyes stare into yours, anticipating your next move. Leaning into her ear, you moan into her as you penetrate her pussy with your shaft, her cry melding with yours into a harmonious sound. Your hands intertwine with hers, lifting them over her shoulders as you slip your cock into her tight, suffocating cunt. Missionary might be the least inviting of all the possible positions, but you wanted to see her crack, to see her fall apart, to see her break.

Unsurprisingly, she does. Between one deep nail into her after another, you watch Yena crumble into a lewd, pornographic heap of skin. Her eyes go shut and her lips curl, melt wide open, moaning and cursing like they’re the only words she ever knows. The same expressions that haunted you are back, but with the way you’re smiling, now you’re master over them—it doesn’t torment you anymore.

Call yourself hypocritical, but you’re enjoying every moment of this, every moment of your cock buried inside of her cunt—for yours alone. Combine your collective moans with the sound of your thighs sloppily slapping against each other, you’re making beautiful music.

“Fuck, Yena. Fuck, Yena.” Your thoughts loop between those two words, with nothing else to fill in the gaps, and it eventually materializes on your lips. There’s her breasts, bouncing vibrantly with each ripple of her body, so that might be the distraction. You grip them with a hand and it doesn’t change anything. At best, it only changes her pitch. You’re fucking her, that’s for sure.

Many nights you’ve secretly wished and pined for this moment—and at times, you’ve slept with wet fingers pretending it would come. Now it’s here, at its apex, and you don’t want to let the time slip away—at least not yet.

Your body doesn’t follow, doesn’t recognize you’re one whole entity. It’s rebellious. It thrusts, it picks up speed, it only knows to go either 0 or 100. There’s no in-between. Yena’s perfect figure recognizes how unruly you are. Her pussy flexes against your cock harshly. It may as well be a death grip. It’s almost taunting to see how difficult she makes it for you to slip out, so determined to make you cum in as little time as possible.

She has places to be, but you’ll make sure she doesn’t walk out of here unless it’s limping.

Even that proves to be counterproductive. The way you rail her, exert every last bit of effort into ensuring your dick is deeply buried inside her as humanly possible proves to be too much for your own body. Your pelvic joints flare up, ache and sore, pleading for you to be gentle, but anything less would be a disappointment to Yena. That’s how she wants it, and you’re more than willing to sacrifice yourself to give her everything.

You’ve drowned out her loud screams at this point. Even the idea of a few more minutes seems out of reach. Yena helplessly quivers beneath you, screaming in both agony and joy as you wildly fuck her, completely submissive to your most radical of whims. Rational thinking is practically non-existent, only dependent on the most basic and primal of your instincts to end her—and yourself.

Mouth agape, exposed neck with red sores all over from marks you’ve unknowingly made, she cries out, aware of your plight, “I can feel you’re so close to cumming—Give it to me—I can tell how badly you want to cum—just give in and fill me up!”

You can’t even look at Yena, losing the last of your restraint rapidly by the second. The sight of your cock spearing her beneath doesn’t help either. It’s basically over. With a deep thrust and sigh, you give in and do as she says: fill her up.

The groan you make is inhuman, borderline animalistic. Without thought, you let yourself go, fire thick shots of cum, one after another inside her soaked pussy. The painful but thrilling feeling lingers on for what may as well be hours. You can’t stop throbbing inside her, pulsating inside her greedy cunt, waiting for your cock to finally stop shooting a presumably infinite amount of seed to fill her with.

Using the last of your strength, you move yourself to the side with enough space that when you eventually crash, your outstretched arm gently settles atop her bare chest. Gone are the loud, deafening moans and unrecognizable bed creaks, replaced by deep, gentle breaths.

—————

Thank goodness it’s the weekend, otherwise you’d be worrying about the work day to come while you lie restless in bed. Actually, you do have something concerning—the heap of reports your boss gave you earlier that day. You’ll get it started after you’ve gotten enough rest, which will take you into the afternoon.

It’s not the monotony and the tedium of work driving you crazy tonight. It’s Yena. You both should have been completely tired by now, bodies completely drained of all their strength. Instead, you’re trying your hardest not to give in to her advances while she playfully demands another round with you.

Toss and turn as many times as you want, pretend to act like you’re sound asleep as much as you want, she doesn’t buy into the act. She’s considerate enough to be gentle, but mischievous, kissing every part of you, clambering over your shoulders, looking at you with an unassailable bliss, all while you’re evidently miserable. You were done.

“You don’t have work tomorrow, right?” she asks, so sweetly but quite taunting. Her arm wraps around your waist, teasingly going for your groin, completely numb at this point.

“I don’t.” A feeble lie. Even the slightest notion can start another wildfire, so you desperately avoid entertaining her, yet she proves to be more persistent than you bargained for.

“Come on, then. I suppose you don’t have a little more for me, right?” Yena flips you face up that you’re staring into each other’s eyes. She’s still hungry, still greedy, a fire still brightly lit within them.

Sighing, you lightly lift your head, pulling her face close for a chaste kiss. Then she steals whatever control you have. It spirals out into a full-blown make out session.

Next thing you know, she’s riding you, moans overpowering the aching and groaning you loins feel, demanding every last drop out of you, yet you can do nothing but watch helplessly as you succumb to her wanton desires.

Then you flip her around and pound her against the backdrop of a mirror, making your argument completely pointless.

Plenty of time has already gone to waste, and you will spend some more, but you don’t regret a single second of it.

—————

“Thank you for a wonderful time,” says Yena, cheekily smiling as she crosses beyond your entrance door. Fully dressed and mostly clean, she sounds like a guest for a simple dinner—as if you didn’t rail her five times throughout the night.

“Yeah, thank you as well,” you say, holding your throat between words, unsure whether you’re feeling guilty or awkward—perhaps both, but it’s a terrible disguise for the high you’re actually feeling. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Gosh, you should just drop the act. I know you actually enjoyed it.”

Caught red-handed, you lift your hands, shrugging your shoulders playfully. You’re lightly smirking, barely suppressing a chuckle. She’s right. “Yeah. Sure did.”

“Comeback’s on Monday. Maybe I wear this outfit during the showcase,” she remarks—the first time she’s said something about her occupation throughout her stay with you. Winking, she adds, “I hope you enjoy the new music. I’ll show a different side of me.”

“Heh. I have already seen it.”

“And I have already seen yours. To be quite honest, I quite like it.” Yena shoots continued winks at you, her favorite weapon of choice. “I’d like to see more of it, in fact.”

Tilting your chin up, amusement clearly written on your features, you fold your arms. “I know you’re busy and all, but I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again.”

“I don’t really have a lot going on. Just some appearances, but no serious music show promotions, so you’ll see me sooner than you think, who knows?” Yena waves you goodbye while you slowly but quietly pull the door on her, her cheery smile persistent even with the sight of your evident sadness. “Please rest, okay? Oh, and check your table later. See you.”

Instead of taking her words to heart, the dinner table is the first place you head to, not your bed. On the edge lies a polaroid of you two like a couple, her arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Behind is a 10 digit number with a note written beneath in tiny letters, but with the three most encouraging words your eyes will have the joy of reading.

> Call me anytime. <3

—————

(A/N: I figured it was high time to write a Yena fic again. 34-35 days is like the longest gap between fics on a non-hiatus period. I thought it was kind of interesting to explore what happens to an OC after one of those fanmeets like that of Make me smile, make me scared. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #izone #yena #choi yena

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stickthisbig · 7 days

Text

Look it was a really fuckin rough day and internet drama is what is keeping me afloat so here's some bullshit about Watcher

I don't want to talk about creative decisions. Creators deserve to be paid and TV costs a lot of money, and whether you think a TV model makes sense and reflects the brand's appeal is ultimately a matter of taste.

I want to talk about how much this fuckin thing costs.

If you are going to make a venture like this survive, you must aim at the money. I am the money. I'm financially independent and old enough to have kids who watch the show but have no income, I am a long-time BFU/Watcher fan who's splashed out for merch and a live show, and I've subbed to multiple similar services (RIP Alpha). I am the boring adult that you must convince, because I am the one who can pay for this without a second thought. You will not make it through this on the empty promises of children.

The closest comp to Watcher is not Dropout; it's Nebula. And trust me on this- they would prefer you to compare it to Dropout, because of how much better it makes them look. Compared on full prices (because you can almost always get a discount), Nebula costs half of what Watcher does, for a much, much larger catalog. I am a huge fan of Nebula. I've watched hundreds of hours on Nebula, because there is loads of varied content from creators who have expressed exactly the same wishes for creative freedom as the Watcher team.

And honestly, if we are gonna talk about comparisons to Dropout, you're never gonna be able to watch BFU on this service, so it's apples to oranges anyway.

I am certain that they will make more money percentage-wise through this service. It's not on me to care about their yield from youtube vs a dedicated streaming service vs a partnered streaming deal. That's not my job; I'm not their accountant or their dad. It's on me to look at value for money. I am not a charity, and when you put yourself up as a commodity, I'm gonna kick the tires and leave if I don't like the price.

I'm not going to pay $60 for this, or $42, or $6/month, because it's a bad value on my end. It is less content for more money. $30 still would have been too high, but there was a price point where I, the person with the intersection of money and interest, would have said yes. That is the trade-off: you can wait around forever for somebody to spend $60 and end up with $0, or you can get three people who balked in for $20 each and end up with $60.

Look, we're all friends here, we know the Watcher crew is not so damn dumb that they didn't look into joining an existing streaming service. It's not a fuckin grand revelation that there were potentially other options, and obviously they must have thought about this for longer than ten minutes. But when your service is MUCH more expensive than its closest comparison (Nebula) and the same price as the well-established competitor you'd like to be compared to (Dropout), why on god's green earth would you think I would buy it if I was anything short of obsessed? Where is your growth plan? How is this sustainable? The absolute best plan for me is to wait until the next series of Ghost Files is over, pay $6 to watch the whole series, then cancel again.

Also you're fuckin leaving money on the table by not having delayed VOD on youtube but at this point, that's none of my business.

If it's worth $60 to you and you've got the money, you do what's right for you. But I'm out. No hard feelings! But also no $60.

(Also I do think 100% saying that the back catalog will stay on youtube is a walkback and not what he said in the video, so like, watch that)

#watcher #anyway off to watch some nebula I think #oh yeah I forgot #most of nebula cross-posts to youtube anyway

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novaawayne · 1 year

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Interview || Izuku Midoriya

pairing: izuku Midoriya x female!reader

summary: You are a famous YouTuber who is dedicated to talking about heroes. One day you accidentally do an interview with the number one hero, Deku, without really knowing who he was. Give the almost heard that both are fans of the other.

warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff. i really love this little piece of sunshine.

wc: +2.8k

a/n. English is not my first lenguage. please send some request for izuku

masterlist

Since you were six years old, you had been very interested in the world of social networks. You liked the way people brought up various topics through the camera. From cooking recipes, to a video blog of daily life, to crafts, and even tutorials.

That's how, at the age of eleven, you asked your parents to help you open your own YouTube channel. You wanted people to know and listen to you, but not only that, you wanted to talk to them about your favorite topic: superheroes.

You were never really interested in becoming one since it seemed very dangerous but that didn't take away the great admiration you had for all of them.

At first your parents didn't agree with this, the internet was a dangerous place, especially for a little eleven year old girl. But seeing your great insistence and that it was something you really wanted, they agreed to help you as long as they supervised you. You really couldn't be happier.

In your first few videos, you showed off your favorite hero merch collections and talked about how much you admired them. They were actually terrible videos. You spoke very fast or had very long silences and because you didn't know how to edit, the videos remained as they had been recorded.

But over time you got better. By the time you turned sixteen, you already had a little more than ten million followers as you had worked hard to cover everything related to the heroes of the moment. You had gotten exclusive interviews with heroes like Best Jeanist, Edgeshot, Present Mic, and one with All Might.

That last one was what took you straight to the top. It had not been easy to get that interview but the man had been very kind answering the questions of a girl with big bright eyes.

That's how your parents gave you a professional camera along with audio equipment. They never really imagined you would go this far but they couldn't be more proud of you.

Later you managed to attend the AU sports tournament, where you interviewed some of the future heroes and took videos of the various games. Your audience loved the way you recounted the events and how you carried on so naturally.

May was the same place where you met the cutest guy in the whole wide world. Izuku Midoriya. Just seeing it was like having directly seen the beauty of the starry sky. It was the moment you decided that you would be his number one fan.

However, the years began to pass. You attended university to study communication and various companies sought you out because you already had more than 100 million subscribers on YouTube, more than 120 million on Instagram and around 65 million on tiktok.

It was rare that someone didn't know you when you went out on the street and it was even the same hero managers who looked for you to ask you to do an interview because of your great reach.

On the other hand, although you didn't know it, Izuku knew you. Since before the UA tournament, since he was a big fan of heroes, he was amazed with your content from when you still had only 5 subscribers, he was one of those 5, in addition to your parents, your aunt and your older cousin . And he never missed a single one of your videos.

He recognized you immediately when you attended the UA tournament and wanted to ask you for a photo but he was more shy and didn't dare to talk to you. You were so pretty and he had serious trouble talking to girls.

However, he never stopped following you and admiring your work. He thought it was really incredible everything you had achieved from such a young age and on your own.

Izuku's only regret was that his paths hadn't crossed again. He was now number one and he really wanted to meet you in person but he hadn't found the right opportunity.

Izuku even knew that you were a big fan of him since a lot of your videos talk about him and he didn't miss the way you got excited when you made a video exclusively for him.

However, their paths were about to cross forever.

That day you were going to do a live walk through the streets hoping to meet a hero. Those were some of your most popular videos right now, because although you were looking for heroes, you would also sometimes interview passersby to give them an opinion on their favorite hero. You even went out into the streets to play some games, asking questions about the heroes and giving some gifts to whoever answered correctly.

The fun thing was that it was all live, so you could answer a few questions while you were walking around and talk to your followers.

You were in an uncrowded park and you were getting ready to start recording.

All your team was ready, standing behind the camera.

Yoru, your cameraman gave you the signal that everything was ready and that's how he counted down before starting. You started with your typical greeting and at one point you already had two million views.

You started talking a bit about what you were doing today and how excited you were. You sent a couple of greetings and finally stopped looking at the chat on your cell phone when you saw a couple sitting on a bench.

"Hi!" you greeted them with great encouragement but they seemed confused by your sudden appearance.

“Oh, aren't you y/n? The one from that channel that talks about heroes” the girl asked you with a lot of emotion.

"I am the same. Would you like to play a game to win a surprise prize?”

The girl looked at her boyfriend with emotion.

"Of course we want"

The boy seemed nervous about the sudden appearance of a camera but seeing his girlfriend so happy about him cheered him up a bit.

"OK. Then I'll ask you ten questions about some heroes and if you answer all of them right, I'll give you something."

They both stood up and listened carefully to your questions.

On the other hand, Izuku was leaving his agency after a grueling mission. They had sent him to rest because his last mission had lasted three days and he had hardly slept a little. It was so that the number one hero put on a cap, sunglasses and a sweatshirt to go out without being recognized. He wanted to walk for a while to get some fresh air and go for something to eat.

He had barely gone a couple of blocks when his phone rang. He quickly took it to see what it was and smiled to see that it was a notification that you were live.

He hurried to put on his headphones and open the video. There you were, as radiant and happy as ever. However, something caught his attention. The place where you were seemed very familiar to him.

He looked around him trying to remember.

“I'm very sorry, you have failed four questions but don't worry. I'll give you these Dynamight commemorative cups.” Izuku heard your voice and looked at the screen again. Someone had handed you a pair of glasses with Bakugo's face printed on them and you handed them over to the couple.

After a short farewell, you continued on your way.

“There aren't many people in this place but while we wait to find someone who wants to play, let me tell you that I recently bought Deku's hoodie. The one that is limited edition. It took me a long time to get it but I did and you can't imagine how happy I am"

Izuku let out a chuckle as he looked at you. But then you turned around and he perfectly recognized that building. It was his agency, you were in the back park. It was true that it was not a very busy place. It was so that he hastened his pace to find you.

It didn't take more than five minutes and from afar he saw you and your entire team. He didn't know that so many people were helping you with these videos but he found it fascinating.

He put away his phone along with his earphones and began to walk casually to make it look like some kind of chance encounter.

And just as he planned, you came running up to him.

"Hello!" You greeted him with great encouragement “my name is y/n. Would you like to play a game with me?”

Izuku was silent for a moment. Luckily you hadn't recognized him yet but he couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you were in person. The camera didn't do you any justice.

"Sure," he said after a moment, "what kind of game is it?"

You laughed a little.

"I will ask you ten questions about some heroes, if you answer all of them correctly I will give you a great gift"

He shrugged. He knew everything about most of the heroes, his whole life was dedicated to studying them and thanks to you he got much more information.

"Okay," he said.

That's how you started with the questions and you were surprised at how well he was answering them. You decided to save a really difficult one for last but he answered it without the biggest problem.

"Wow, you really know a lot about the heroes" you congratulated him "as a prize I'll give you a choice between three things. The first is a collectible figure of Deku, the number one hero. There are only six pieces of this figure. You can also choose double tickets to the superhero theme park. Or lastly, you can choose a jack-in-the-box that contains different merchandise from various heroes” you gave him a big smile.

Izuku couldn't be more captivated.

"Actually I'd like something else," he muttered nervously, scratching his forehead with a finger.

You looked at him curiously.

"What thing?"

“Maybe a photo? I'm actually a big fan of yours since I was a kid."

You blushed at his words but immediately began to laugh.

“Of course we can take a photo, come here. Give Yumi your cell phone and she can take some pictures of us” you told him.

The man took the cell phone from him and handed it to what he claims to be your assistant. However, he also took off his cap and glasses but at that moment you weren't looking at him because you started to send some greetings.

"I'm ready" Izuku said and that's when you looked at him. You almost fainted at that moment when you saw who it was.

It took you a full minute to react but even so you started babbling.

"Hero Deku" you muttered after a moment.

He let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Hello"

You took a deep breath and stood next to him so your assistant, who had a huge smile from ear to ear, could take some photos. You quickly realized that Izuku didn't touch you in any way. His arms remained away from your body at all times. At present there were no longer men as chivalrous as him. If you already loved him before, now you loved him even more.

When the go-gos finished, it was your turn to feel embarrassed.

"Hmmm... Hero Deku, would you allow me an interview?"

"Of course!"

You quickly looked for the notes application on your phone because you had a list of all the questions you wanted to ask Deku if you ever had him in front of you.

It was actually a very long interview and your views increased more and more. You realized how easy it was to talk to Deku and the man had so many things to say that you didn't realize two hours passed. It wasn't until the end of the interview that you realized they had broken a viewing record.

"Thank you very much to everyone who is watching us right now" you said excitedly and Izuku next to you "and many thanks to the hero Deku for giving us this interview. It was magnificent. Hero Deku, would you like to say something to the public? We have broken a record and right now more than fifty million people are watching us live”

Izuku looked surprised but the camera focused on him and you held out your microphone.

"Well, I'm not quite sure. Cameras always make me nervous. However, I want to thank you all for the support you have given me throughout my career. I promise to always protect you."

You smiled excitedly.

“Would you like to say goodbye with me?” You asked him. Your cheeks had started to ache from the big smile that hadn't gone away.

"I would love that"

They both looked at the camera with a serious face and pointed their index finger.

"See you next time" they spoke at the same time and made a movement as if their hand was a gun.

The live ended, your team of five started clapping, and finally approached Izuku for a photo or autograph. He very gladly agreed but he still wanted to be alone with you for a moment. He wanted to ask for your number or if he felt brave enough a date.

"I'll go put all this in the van" Yoru said, carrying a couple of suitcases in each hand.

“Thank you all very much for your work today” you spoke out loud and little by little your team withdrew.

"We'll wait for you in the van" Yumi asked you this time.

You looked at Deku and then at your assistant. You immediately denied.

"No, I think I prefer to walk"

The woman let out a big smile as she raised and lowered her eyebrows. But she just gave you your bag and left with the others.

The sky was already dark, you had started recording quite late so it was normal for it to be like this. The little boy's lights came on and you looked at Deku.

"Thank you very much for the interview. I'm really a big fan of yours and it's an honor to have met you."

Izuku blushed.

"It's no big deal. Also, I'm also a big fan of yours. I've watched all your videos since you started at eleven and even though you deleted many of those videos, I still remember them."

It was your turn to feel like your face was burning.

"Well, then... I think I'd better go."

"Is it alright if I accompany you?"

You looked at him with big bright eyes.

"It’s okay, thank you"

-•

It was a year later. You were in your studio doing a live Q&A. You wanted a quiet live so you chose to record in the morning when there were a little less people.

However, the chat filled up immediately.

“Today we will read some questions from Instagram. Many want to know how my collection has grown, so I will show you some things, also last night I received a big box with new merchandise that I ordered a month ago”

Your background had completely changed, they were no longer those stuffed animals and dolls from when you started, now there were several glass cabinets full of figures and merchandise of various heroes. In addition, there were some neon lights that adorned each side of the room. That morning they were pink.

You started answering some questions and stood up when asked about the new Shoto figure you had mentioned in your Instagram stories. Also about the Red Riot cap and Headphone Jack headphones.

"Honey, can you bring the box that arrived last night?" You yelled as you put the giant Lemillion figure back on.

‘When will you show us your boyfriend?’

'I have a suspicion that his boyfriend is someone very important and that's why she doesn't want to show it'

'We all want to meet the person who stole the hearts of our y/n'

You read the chat with a smile.

“I'm sorry, but you know I'd rather keep my personal life out of this. But I promise if that guy proposes to me, I'll show him when we get married” you started laughing.

Someone knocked softly on the door and you stood up to open it. Izuku appeared with a big smile and a huge box in his arms. You stood on your toes to give him a quick kiss and the man set the box on the floor.

"Thank you, Izu" you murmured, giving him another kiss on the lips.

"No problem honey"

Izuku went straight to his shared room and continued watching your video. He really was in love with you and was already planning how to ask you to marry him.

↬ written by Novaawayne

#izuku midoriya #bnha deku #bnha midoriya #izuku x y/n #my hero academia #izuku midoria x reader #mha deku #deku x reader #Deku x you #izuku x you #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #midoriya x you #midoriya fluff #izuku fluff #deku fluff

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kennysboxergf · 6 months

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Hello Darling, hope you're doing well ❤️‍🩹 Could you write something about Niko and reader fighting and reader is so mad that she's giving him the silent treatment and Niko is so sad and needy because he hatessss it :(<3

Talk to Me ~ Niko Omilana

“Babe?” Niko called out. His words echoed through your apartment as you refused to reply.

His voice dug into your skull like an electric drill, irritating you more.

He had left after a fight between the two of you had turned dirty to ‘give you some space’. Fucking bitch.

“Baby?” His voice rang out again, he was closer now.

And also more irritating apparently.

He walked into the room you were sitting looking like a lost puppy. You refused to give in to his charms. His big brown eyes and nurture d eyebrows couldn’t sway you.

He spotted you and a big boyish smile grew onto his face. His eyes lit up as he called out your name.

You crossed your arms.

He tilted his head in confusion but the smile remained big on his face. He walks diver to sit down next to you on the couch.

The feeling of the couch dipping down caused you to get this irritating feeling down your back. One that no amount of scratching could get rid of. You furrowed your eyebrows and turned away from him.

His smile faltered behind your turned back and he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You shrugged it off.

“Y/n? Babe? Talk to me?” He said when you wouldn’t give him a response.

“Baby?” He tried again.

Your lips remained sealed.

He got off of his seat to bend down in front of you so the two of your were in eye shot of each other again.

You couldn’t bare to look into his eyes so you tried to look any where but him.

He tried to move his head to meet where your eyes were looking but gave up. He sighed and looked up at the general direction of your face.

“Let’s not do this” he said, whispering it to maybe make it less douche baggy?

You huffed and reached for the remote sitting next to you. He kept looking at you with those big, brown eyes but you couldn’t give in, atleast not yet. You searched around YouTube for a while, anything to get your mind off the man next to you, pouting at staring into your soul to get you to look back. You hovered over one of his videos before clicking on an old Chunkz one just to add salt to the injury.

You heard a little gasp of offence come from your right which almost caused a little smile to pull through the mask you were putting on. Almost. You were still plenty pissed off, remembering some of the arguments he had made against you earlier.

You watched and laughed along with the video, Niko next to you looking more and more like a hurt puppy next to you throughout. He called out to you a few times but you ignored every “baby” and “I love you” that came from his mouth.

Your phone buzzed next to you and you looked at the caller ID. It was Sharky. He always read people very well, knowing when to avoid them if they were in a bad mood. Or comfort them, like now.

You picked up, “hey”

Niko couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation but he bathed in the sound of your voice again, even if it wasn’t directed at him. Every syllable felt like a warm palm holding his cheek but also the other hand stabbing him in the gut. He felt so bad about the fight and just wanted to explain himself but he hadn’t realised how much it affected you too.

And this was the worst kind of punishment, he could handle you yelling at him, even a few slaps and pushes of the chest but you ignoring him? Not listening to his pleas? That was torture, to say the least.

You talked away happily to Sharky, not noticing how Niko next to had this hands in between his thighs, staring into the floor deep in thought, biting his lip. His eyes were flirting back and forth as he fought with himself to find a way to talk to you.

You only noticed him when he suddenly lifted himself off the couch and nearly ran to his room. You were worried for a second but a small “y/n?” From the phone brought you back to your conversation.

It had been around 15 minutes and you hung up with Sharky. Niko still wasn’t back so you shrugged to yourself and continued with you video. It had barely started when he came into the living room.

You fought you initial instinct to look at him. You still wanted to talk to him but you also wanted to teach him a lesson, and tell him what he did was wrong.

Niko came around to you eyesight of his own. You tried to look away but gave in this once, looking him square in his eyes. To Niko the eye contact felt like warm sunlight on his back.

He held up a little notebook, the first page said “I’m sorry”. You read it and tilted your head at him.

He flipped the page. “Please talk to me again”

You looked away. A gentle hand on you knee brought your attention back.

The page was turned over again, now it read “I get that some of what I said was wrong can we please talk it out?”

You squinted your eyes at him, not sure this was enough to make you forgive him.

“Please, y/n, I can’t do this anymore” he flipped the page to reveal. That paired with his eyes looking up at you, slightly watery and wide was enough to make you break.

“Alright” you whispered softly into the room.

Niko closed his eyes and dropped his head like that was the greatest thing he had ever achieved.

“Alright, Niko, talk to me” you repeated.

You saying his name was the sweetest thing, the thing that brought peace to his entire being, and he jumped up to hug you.

You fell back onto the sofa with a shocked gasp. He started kissing all over your face and neck and chest and everywhere he could reach. You laughed, but whispered in his ear “get off, I’m still mad”

He pulled himself away, like a shy school boy, “sorry, let me explain myself”

You wouldn’t tell him right now but bai voice was also the most beatitude thing in the world to you, you wouldn’t know what you would do if you could never hear it again.

—

my bad it’s been so long baes it just too much school and my grades are dropping and it makes me sick to my stomach 😀

but I’ll try, hope this is alr for now

Tschüss <3

#beta squad #niko omilana #cute #niko x reader #niko x you

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