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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

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Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

“Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

“I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #one direction #harry styles fanfictions

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ravnsbae · 2 years

Text

Scars and Skates. pt 6.5

prev || masterlist || next

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: angst, social media au (kinda)

Word Count: 1.1k

An: uhoh. New characters are coming. The next chapter will be text based again, almost like a prelude to the next few written chapters. Hopefully my plans for this don’t change over the weekend.

Taglist: @reallyloudstarlight @nattisbored @hugs4chan

~~~

You wandered into the bathroom, pulling out a pair of loose jeans you threw in your bag a few days ago and pulling them on, shoving your tights into a pocket. You checked yourself in the mirror, smiling as your phone buzzed on the counter, picking it up you saw an Instagram notification.

chrisbang started following you

Quickly grabbing your bag you walked out, spotting Chris leaning against the wall on his phone.

“How rude, you’re stalking me again.” You teased as you pressed follow on his account too.

He smiled at you turning his phone around to show you the notification he just got. “Now we’re stalking each other.”

You both laughed as you walked out of the main doors, the cool air whipping at your face as you walked next to Chris, watching him shove his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks for being there this morning.” You said, breaking the awkwardness and looking over at him.

“Why?”

“The boys in my class couldn’t stop staring at you, it was nice to see them so excited about skating.”

Chris smiled, he could understand what you meant. “Maybe we should teach together then.”

“You? Teach kids? You’d just end up being another kid I‘d have to control.” You laughed as you approached the café, Chris opening the door and letting you in first.

“You still get the same order right?” Chris asked, looking over at you and watching you nod. “Find somewhere to sit, I’ll get it.”

You walked over to the seats closest to the window and flopped down, leaning your head against your hand watching Chris as he ordered, your mind wandering filling with questions you wanted to ask him.

Why did he give up pairs?

What happened to your old coach?

Did he still hate you?

That last question seemed stupid, he couldn’t hate you after the way you were both acting on the ice earlier, the closeness and skinship, but then maybe it was an act, keeping his enemies close, but then it’s not like you were skating against each other.

“Don’t think to hard Y/N, you’ll hurt yourself.” This pulled you back to the real world, Chris had sat down and was looking at you with his head tilted slightly.

“You’re so kind to me Chris.” You said smiling at him as he handed you your coffee.

“What were you thinking about?” He asked, taking a sip of his own coffee and looking at you, trying to read your face.

“The amount of questions I have to ask you.” You could see your answer surprised him, as his eyes widened slowly.

“Shoot then.”

“Alright then. Why aren’t you skating pairs anymore?” You asked.

“Seojin.” He said, looking at you. “She got super clingy, never wanted to skate alone, even if I was skating with the other guys she’d go mental, my only option was to quit pairs, actually you know what, let me show you something.”

He pulled his phone out and pointed the camera at you, your head spinning around to look away as he took the picture, hearing the shutter you turned back glaring at him.

“Just wait, she’s crazy honestly, even now she’s still clingy and it’s been like 6 months.”

“Do you still talk to her or is she THAT crazy.” You asked, hearing your phone buzz you picked it up to see Chris had posted the photo to Instagram, tagging you in the description. You looked up hearing his phone buzz, watching as he smiled and turned it towards you so you could see the screen.

“Wow, she really hates me doesn’t she.” You said. “You know what.” You head looked down at your phone again, tapping away at your screen until you hear Chris laugh.

“She’s gonna come after you.” He said, as he read your comment.

“Let her.” You smirked another idea popping into your head, you switched to your camera and took a photo of Chris, busy looking at his phone.

“Let’s really annoy her, because we both know she’ll stalk my Instagram now.” You said posting the photo you had just taken onto your profile, as almost instantly Chris’ phone buzzed again, turning the screen so you could see it.

“Wow.” You said, staring at the screen reading over the messages. “So are you still in contact with anyone from back then?” You asked, putting your phone away as it buzzed in your hand.

“Not really. You?”

“A few, Felix still messages me a ‘Happy Birthday’ but that’s about it.” You said sighing. “You two were close, what happened?”

“The simple answer, Seojin.”

“Say no more, from that little rage there I can see her being several times worse.”

You both sat there, talking for a few hours, you learned that Chris had been searching for a coach until someone recommended your current one, how your old coach was still teaching pairs, but wasn’t having luck and that Chris was hopeful to make it to at least one Worlds as a single skater, you also told him how you did in fact give up skating for several months and how you failed to find another partner with the same connection as you had with him, watching his cheeks flush slightly.

“Hey it’s true!” You whined, watching him.

Pulling your phone out, the buzzing in your pocket driving you crazy, your eyes went wide, several missed calls from your coach and you were both 10 minutes late to your session, jumping up you shoved your phone in Chris’ face, his eyes also going wide as you both grabbed your bags and jogged out of the café.

You both pushed through the doors of the rink, seeing your coach on the phone, turning as he saw your reflection in the glass.

“You can’t do this, I have three skaters here who need ice time!” He yelled into his phone, pointing towards you both angrily and then to the chairs next to him, Rejin giggling in her chair as she watched you both sit down.

“What’s happening?” You asked, jumping in your seat as your coach yelled into the phone again.

“I don’t care if they need ice time too, they’re the competition!”

“Some coach has hired out the ice for their students since the rink they skate at is undergoing repair.” She mumbled, scrolling on her phone, smirking as she asked “Have a nice coffee date?”

“How did that happen? We have it pre-booked for weeks.” You said.

“The coach there must be tight with the rink manager here.” Said Rejin shrugging.

“Damn it!” Came from behind you, turning in your seat you looked at your coach.

“Careful coach, you might burst an artery or something.” You joked, as he rubbed his temples.

“Not a good time Y/N, we’ve got several skaters from another rink coming in to use our ice. I believe it’s the coach that you were under before you quit Chris.”

“WHAT?!” You both said, looking at eachother.

That could mean only one thing, Seojin.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan smau #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids smau

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

i wish i could disappear

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, feelings of anxiety due to social media harassment, invasion of privacy that border on stalking

recommended listening: brutal | olivia rodrigo

series masterpost: here

a/n: and we're off to the races!! i love this album and olivia so much. there's a shoutout to goon by tobias jesso jr. in here bc it's my favourite album to cry to lmao (highly recommend giving it a listen!). i'm on the fence about this one but am posting it anyways because i don't think i can make it any better

How the fuck do people find your social media?

All of your accounts are private and Kevin makes sure to never tag you on the rare occasion he posts a picture of the two of you together. The wives and girlfriends who have public accounts make sure to never post about you, and you’re careful not to comment on posts often. You’re a private person and though you understand that due to the nature of your relationship with Kevin you intrigue some fans, you don’t want to give them more than you have to.

Despite making no attempt to open up to the public or media, every day you wake up with hundreds of follow requests from complete strangers. At first it was a little exciting knowing that people were curious about your life but after years of the same routine it’s become draining. It takes you nearly twenty minutes each day to weed through them and accept only the people you know personally. Kevin doesn’t actually know how many people want to catch a glimpse of your daily life because you do your best to keep it from him. Knowing would only bring him stress, and you want him to be able to focus on winning games and loving you with his entire heart.

☼☼☼☼

The phone on your desk rings loudly, pulling your attention away from the computer screen that has way too many numbers on it for your liking. The finance department needed someone to proof their audit before sending it away and since you’re the only one in human relations that has a business degree the job landed on your shoulders. Eager to take a break, you pick it up and press the receiver against your ear.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side laughs gently, but you immediately know it’s Kevin. “Hi sweetheart,” he says warmly, “How’s work?”

“Fine I guess. It’s work, Kev. Nothing terribly exciting happens here,” you explain but continue to fill him in on all the coffee pot gossip you got this morning. Kevin listens as you complain about forgetting your lunch on the counter and chuckles at how upset the situation makes you.

“What if I told you I’m outside your window with a burrito bowl?”

Excited at the possibility of seeing your boyfriend before dinnertime, you whip towards the window and spot Kevin on the sidewalk, waving like an idiot despite knowing your office is on the fifth floor. You hang up quickly after telling him you’ll be down in two minutes and let the receptionist know you’re stepping out for lunch. There’s a line for the elevator so you head to the stairwell, taking them two at a time in your haste. You’re crossing the street to the small park where Kevin has set up a picnic before your co-workers are even out the door.

You plop down on the blanket beside Kevin and lean into him. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before passing you the food he brought. You take a bite, sighing at the taste. Kevin knows you better than you know yourself and knew exactly what to get that would satisfy your mounting hunger.

“Thanks babe,” you smile, holding up your fork and offering him a bite. He takes it graciously but makes a face. “What’s the matter?” you laugh as you take the utensil back.

“I fucking hate avocado.”

The two of you eat in relative silence, speaking only when you remember a detail from your morning. Kevin tells you about the drills he’s going to lead at practice in the afternoon and what he plans on cooking for dinner since he’ll be home before you. You insist you can whip something up when you get home but Kevin shakes his head. He reminds you that relationships are give and take, and that you’ve made dinner the past three nights because he had a string of games. You manage to reach a compromise that has you doing the dishes before you have to return to work.

Kevin insists on walking you back to your office even though you protest vehemently. Your relationship is far from secret, and has been the topic of workplace gossip more times than you can count, but after five years you’ve learned to ignore most of it. However, you don’t want your co-workers to think you flaunt your NHL player boyfriend to prove you’re better than them. They all love Kevin, and a couple of them congratulate him on last night’s goal as he follows you down the hall. A few of the newer hires stare in awe and shake his hand, completely blown away that one of Philadelphia’s biggest stars is asking how they like their jobs.

“Pretty soon they’re going to approach you to do PR for us,” you chuckle as you flip the light on and close the door of your office.

His laughter echoes off the walls as a pair of strong arms find a home around your waist. “It would be kind of fun to hear myself crush those radio commercials.”

“Since when do you listen to the radio?”

“Checkmate,” Kevin sighs, pulling you closer. He kisses you quickly, not wanting to give a show to anyone who could be walking past, but it still sends you reeling. You don’t want him to pull away and kiss him again.

You get your way for a few more moments and then Kevin’s leaving with a promise to not burn the house down and wishes for a good rest of the day. Focussed on giving the audit its final once-over you don’t bother pulling your phone from the drawer you had placed it in when you got to work that morning. You turn up the small radio at the corner of your desk and get to work scanning the document for errors. There’s a mistake halfway through that skews the rest of the data and fixing it takes a bit of time, but it isn’t a huge deal. You have nothing else to do except answer a few emails and organize meetings for after the weekend.

An hour or so later you’ve completed all your tasks and debate what to do. It’s too early to leave for the day, so you decide to kill time by checking your phone. You’re expecting a few notifications, perhaps two or three memes in the group chat you share with your friends, but not the hundreds that greet you.

The majority of them are instagram notifications, and assuming they’re just more fans requesting a follow you ignore them, instead heading to your text messages. There’s a picture from Kevin of a dog he found walking home and another from your mom asking why you haven’t called home in a few weeks. However the one from Claude’s wife is the one that piques your curiosity.

Just a heads up that someone posted a pic of you and Kev to one of those stupid wag pages. I filed a request for Instagram to take it down but it’s gotten a lot of traction. Sorry :((

Your heartbeat increases rapidly and a million thoughts fly through your head at a rapid speed. Fingers shaking, you respond with a thanks and open up the dreaded app. You don’t see it immediately, your feed being full of photos belonging to friends and family, but it’s in your messages almost two hundred times. Many of them have text attached and you know there will be a comment about your relationship regardless of which one you open.

Tapping on the most recent message you brace yourself for the worst. The new window opens a photo someone took of you and Kevin while eating lunch in the park across from your office not even three hours prior. It’s grainy and the camera angle is strange, but you’re eating and Kevin is looking somewhere out of frame. The accompanying caption reads Kev and his girlfriend out for lunch today! Follow @philllywagupdates for more :).

You let out a sigh of relief – it could have been a lot worse. Personal pictures of yourself have made it onto pages like that before and most of them they’re paired with mean-spirited captions about your appearance or other trivial matters. Assuming you’re in the clear, you head back to the page of the original message to thank the person for bringing the post to your attention. However, the message accompanying the post is anything but positive.

He can’t even fucking look at you. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you

The blood in your veins runs cold. You know it’s not true – Kevin’s made it clear you’re the one and truthfully you’re just waiting for a ring – but it doesn’t stop the sting you feel. What could possess someone to say such horrible things? You decide not to respond despite, possibly opening another can of worms with the seen function, and close the app. Leaning back in your office chair you focus on anything but your phone, looking out the window at passersby while regaining your breath. It works for a while, but eventually not knowing what others said eats away at you. You go through every single message to see hundreds of similar comments to the first, with only a few saying they’re glad you’re happy or how posting the picture is a violation of your privacy.

By the time you’re finished your spirit has been crushed. However, it’s also an acceptable time to start the weekend – at least no one in the office will have to see you cry. Things are hastily packed into your bag and you wave a few quick goodbyes before once again taking the stairs. You curse yourself for deciding to walk to work that morning and set off in the direction of home wiping away tears. The last thing you need right now is for someone to recognize you, but you have to get home. Tobias Jesso Jr plays at much too loud a volume through your headphones and Kevin will most certainly remind you it’s bad for your hearing, but the melancholy piano riffs of Goon overpower the thoughts swirling around your head.

Do people really feel that way about me?

Are my friends just too nice to stop inviting me places?

Does Kevin really feel trapped?

Hundreds of similar sentiments and situations cross your mind as you stumble through the streets of downtown Philadelphia, but you force them as far back as possible before opening the door to the apartment you share with Kevin. Hoping to slip inside undetected, you take your shoes off slowly and throw your jacket on the end table instead of hanging it in the closet. Your plan fails somehow and Kevin hears you, greeting you in a goofy apron covered in flour.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, but it drops once your eyes meet and he sees the hurt on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, trying to step around him in pursuit of the bathroom.

Kevin doesn’t buy it and sees right through your feeble words. “It’s not nothing if you’re this upset. If you don’t want to talk now that’s fine, but I think you should get it off your chest.”

You know he’s right, but you also know you can’t tell him the true cause of your despair. “Just some work stuff,” you sigh. “The audit got all fucked up and I had to fix it even though it’s not my job.”

It’s not technically a lie, which makes you feel better, and Kevin buys it. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips in sympathy. “Go take a shower and the gnocchi should be ready by the time you’re done. We can spend the night cuddling on the couch.”

“And watching Selling Sunset?”

“We can watch whatever you want sweetheart,” he chuckles. You part from him with a final kiss and head to the bathroom. Hopefully the steam from the water will carry away the negativity brought on by that damn post.

☼☼☼☼

Time passes but the hateful comments on social media don’t stop. In fact, you’re pretty sure they get worse. It’s so bad that you’ve deleted every app except facebook because you need it for work. Kevin doesn’t notice your abstinence from social media, but he picks up on how you spend more time criticizing yourself or staring off into space. When he pushes you either brush him off or feed some bullshit excuse about how work is getting you down. You know he doesn’t believe you but trusts you enough to come to him when you’re ready to talk.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to tell Kevin what’s been going on. There’s been scrutiny from social media before, when you first started dating, but it quieted down after the initial media frenzy. He helped you through that but it’s different this time around. Never before have you had strangers tell you your life is worthless or that your boyfriend should end your relationship. Some of the other wags notice your absence on instagram but chalk it up to you just taking a break. They reach out via the group chat and send wishes to see you at the next home game. It’s nice to know they care, but the voice in your head that has grown much larger in recent weeks tells you they don’t truly mean it. This leads you to decline the invite as politely as possible, citing extended work hours for your absence. In reality you’re too anxious to be anywhere that isn’t home or work, petrified someone is going to post something that will add fuel to the flames of those who interrogate you.

It’s another Friday afternoon, and you’re leaving the office early once again. There’s a small craft exhibition taking place around the corner from work and today is the last day it’s open. You had been meaning to go all week, hoping to find something small to add to Kevin’s birthday gift. As you step out of the building there’s a small group of young women, who don’t look old enough to have graduated college, standing off to the side. It fills you with dread, worried that somehow someone found out where you work and the insults are going to start occurring verbally, but you force yourself to be rational. You work fairly close to one of the artsier districts in the city and it’s more than likely they just want to find a cute mural to take pictures in front of.

You pass by and swear you hear them snicker, but you remind yourself you’ve just been jumpy lately. When they peel from their place on the wall and follow behind at a distance you think the coincidences are running out. It seems a little too strange how their movements line up with yours, and you go down a few winding side streets in an attempt to lose them. Part of you feels ridiculous because what group of barely legal girls would track a full-blown adult around a city of nearly two million people, but your life is currently strange enough you can’t be sure. They don’t follow you, and by the time you reach the market your heart rate has returned to normal.

The first few stalls have little to catch your eye, but a few rows in you find a leatherworker who makes adorable wallets. Kevin’s is ridiculously old and falling apart at the seams – his mom bought it for him before the two of you got together. You think a new one will make a perfect addition to the concert tickets you already bought and browse the table for something simple and elegant. A deep brown one with tan braiding around the edges catches your eye and you know it’s the one for Kevin. Checking the price to make sure you have enough cash in your wallet, you approach the shop owner to purchase. The older man has a kind smile that reaches his eyes as he thanks you for purchasing from him.

“No, thank you for making something so beautiful!” you gush. “My boyfriend is going to love it.”

It’s then you hear it – snickering accompanied by the click of a camera. You look over your shoulder to see the same group of girls from before laughing as they huddle over a cell phone, no doubt already starting to broadcast the photo across the internet. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Those girls don’t deserve to see their mission accomplished, but the longer they laugh at you the harder it is to swallow your feelings.

Head held high, you thank the owner one more time before holding your head high and walking past the group. The only way out is past them so you hold your breath and pray they don’t notice you. Unfortunately you aren’t that lucky, and one of them looks up just as you come into earshot.

“If Kevin doesn’t leave you after that sorry excuse for a gift I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she sneers.

Another one chimes in, “You’re honestly so pathetic.” They all cackle in amusement, and you speed up. The tears flow freely now, and you call an uber even though it will be a ridiculous amount of money. You just want to get home.

The uber driver doesn’t say anything when you get in, though you know it’s strange to be bawling your eyes out at four in the afternoon. You can’t help it – weeks of keeping all the hate to yourself finally got to you and being followed with the sole intent of ridicule is the final straw. At one red light he silently passes you a box of tissues, which you accept gratefully.

Luckily the lobby of your apartment complex is empty and you manage to get to your floor without encountering a familiar face. There’s a few hours until Kevin gets home from his final roadtrip of the season, and if you play your cards right you can get all the tears out and be as normal as possible before he comes through the door. You don’t even bother to put anything away, just head straight to the bathroom to slump against the tub. Sobs rack your body and you lose all sense of time. All you can feel is the hurt you’ve been holding in releasing itself and soaking the material of your blouse.

Kevin finds you laying in the position hours later. He tripped over your shoes coming in the door and immediately knew something was wrong – you always place them neatly on the rack in the closet upon arriving home. Peering through the quiet house for a hint at where you are, he sees the bathroom light on and makes a beeline for the room. It breaks his heart to see you like this, and even more so because he doesn’t know what spurred it on.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he coos, maneuvering his body to sit beside you and pull you into his lap. “What’s the matter?”

You bury your head in his shoulder and clutch the material of his dress shirt as you cry harder at the sound of his voice. Kevin takes your reaction in stride, rubbing circles on your back and working on evening out your breath. He doesn’t pressure you to speak and provides the stability you desperately crave as the world around you spins. An unknown amount of time passes before your tears run out, but spend it all on the bathroom floor curled into Kevin.

“I guess I should have told you sooner,” you mumble, “But I didn’t want to bother you.”

Concern laces Kevin’s features and his eyebrows knit together. “Tell me what?”

“I, uh, have been the subject of some internet hate for the past little bit,” you say sheepishly. It feels stupid to not have told him now, but you can’t change that. “But you were really busy with the season and I wanted to make sure your head was completely focused on the game so I just dealt with it myself. I deleted the apps and tried my best to go about my life. And then today after work I was followed by some people and they said some really hurtful stuff and shit became a little too real.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Why are you sorry Kev? You're Not the one sending me death threats.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair back into your ponytail. “Maybe not, but I still made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was going on. What kind of partner am I?”

“The best one,” you say confidently. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just want to forget about it right now. Can we just disappear for a little bit?”

Kevin wraps his arms around you tighter, as if he can engulf you to protect from the cruel outside world. “We can do whatever you want. If you want to get out of the city for a bit if you want, or just spend the next few days here away from prying eyes.”

“I love you.”

You say it because you mean it, and if you could scream it from the rooftops you would. Kevin is incredibly easy to love, even when you make it difficult for him to love you back. You know another much longer conversation is coming about everything that has happened recently because communication is the only way to solve problems and Kevin deserves that, but you’re thankful he’s willing to put it to rest for a few more moments.

He cracks a smile for the first time since he’s been home and kisses the crown of your head. “I love you too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Always and forever.”

Things are far from over and though you still never want to show your face in public ever again, you know that Kevin is going to do whatever he can to make things better and that’s enough for you.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @ricohenrique @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#i don't love this but here it is!!!#one day i'll like the stories i write #kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #sour

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

Dammnnn these new pics!! SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS!!! And I literally cannot!!

Honest question tho, how does Kate react when she finds out Anthony is an instagram boyfriend?? I feel like she would freak out early in the relationship and then later be okay with it and maybe even request pictures be taken??

Okay, I love the idea of Anthony as an Instagram boyfriend for a couple of reasons

1) It's the huge himbo energy that Anthony radiates where Kate is concerned

2) Kate is really self conscious at the beginning of their relationship. She doesn't think that Anthony belongs with someone like her, but what better way to show her she's wrong.

Kate felt that she had a reasonable grasp on where she sat on the scale of attractiveness. She wasn't one of the startlingly beautiful people of the world, like Edwina, and she honestly didn't believe that there were truly ugly people in the literal sense so she was... somewhere in the middle. Just lotted in with the other averages of society. And it had honestly never bothered her. What did bother her, just a little, was that her boyfriend was one of the startlingly beautiful people of the world.

From the very first moment she'd seen him, Kate had known that he was unfortunately, given their contentious relationship, probably the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He had thick, chestnut hair that tumbled a little roguishly over his forehead, and eyes that seemed to see right through you, a sharp angular jawline covered in a five o clock shadow and it all made for a very startling visual. And this wasn't exactly a problem. Because he was, obviously, very nice to look at and sweet and kind, and very good in bed but it all made her feel very ordinary next to him.

Kate had had an instagram account, like just about everyone else in the world, since she was in university, but she rarely posted on it, honestly, what did she have to show? She knew Anthony had a fairly active account from several very undignified stalks when she couldn't sleep at night, And she knew he wanted to post pictures of them together, but she was a little scared of letting people into the perfect bubbled forming around them. Afraid that if he saw what people would inevitably write about her, he would realise as well, how miraculous it was that they were together at all. But then, to shy away from him publicly had felt like a lie, so she had taken the first step and posted a picture of them together.

What she hadn't expected, other than the thousands of new followers, was that Anthony would want to take pictures of them all the time, of her. The first time it had happened, they'd gone out to dinner, and as they stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a car to collect them and she'd turned towards him and he'd suddenly been fumbling for his phone.

"What are you doing?" She'd asked frowning.

"Just stay right there, this lighting looks amazing and you're so pretty." He'd said smiling, happily.

And she'd actually laughed, hadn't been able to help herself.

"Perfect!" He'd said kissing her cheek, tapping away happily on his phone. Kate's phone buzzed in her hand. "I sent it to you, if you want to post it. Or, wait! Can I?!"

Kate's brow had furrowed automatically, confusion in her chest. "You want to...post a picture of me on instagram?" Anthony had nodded, and Kate had honestly been a little incredulous. "Why?"

Anthony's own brow had furrowed. "So I can show everyone how pretty my girl is." Kate's mouth had fallen open a little, "Sorry, have I gotten something wrong? We're like doing this publicly now, right? I thought we were um, do you not like me-?" he'd started rambling. and Kate's heart had clenched at his sudden nervousness, her lips cutting him off with a quick kiss.

"I really like you." her fingers running over his eyebrows affectionately. "No one's ever... wanted to really post pictures of me before. I just don't know that it's really..."

"None of your boyfriends took pictures of you?!" He'd said incredulously. "But you look like that!" He'd gestured at her.

"Yeah, I think that's the point." Kate had rolled her eyes.

"Well, they're stupid not to appreciate you. I'm going to take so many pictures of you, you'll be sick of it." Anthony had said, tapping away on his phone for a moment, sliding it back into his pocket as the car arrived, tugging her inside until she toppled against him, his voice hot in her ear as he said "Now let me take you back to mine and I'll show you just how much I appreciate you."

And really, by the morning she'd completely forgotten about the picture he'd posted until she lay cushioned against his chest going through the numerous texts and notifications she'd gotten and saw

AntonBridge tagged KateSheff92 in a post

She'd sighed, a little curious as she clicked the notification. And her breath caught oddly.

Smile brighter than the lights and twice as pretty Anthony had written, the lights from the city behind them highlighting her face, her head thrown back as she'd laughed at him ad even she had to admit, she looked different, happy, something closer to beautiful than she'd ever felt before. And, feeling emboldened, she scrolled through the comments, past the thousands of likes there.

Kate Sheffield out there getting this and I can't even get a text back

Why is this so cute though?

Anthony Bridgerton: King of Simp Nation

The last one was from Edwina which made Kate's eyes roll, but even so, she couldn't help but feel her confidence bolster just a little.

"What filter did you use on this?" She'd asked, a light kiss on Anthony's cheek.

Anthony had hummed, leaning into the feel of her lips against him. "There's no filter on that Kate. My girl's just pretty I'm afraid."

And she'd rolled her eyes, but the next time they'd gone out she'd tossed her phone to Edwina and said "Take a picture of us. Apparently I have to show him off a little."

And Anthony's smile in the picture was a little blinding.

#anthony is a simp #as kate deserves #bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

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shunsuiken · 4 years

Note

hi how bout headcanons of y/n and akaashi being each other's online crushes

THIS ONES REALLY CUTE AAAA thank u for requesting <3

akaashi and his s/o are each others online crushes.

so lets begin with how you guys discovered each other

akaashis the vice captain of fukurodani vbc and he likes to post instagram stories of bokuto spiking some balls

because their ace is the best ace amiright 🥰

he also likes to post videos of his members playing around

like konoha and bokuto having makeshift sword fights using brooms while washio stares at them confusedly in the distance

you end up coming across his instagram page because 1. its public 2. wtf hes so cute

so you decided to follow him!

you end up screaming literally three hours later because

akaashi

follows

you

back

you lowkey highkey went batshit crazy and your friend had to physically restrain you from throwing yourself out your window

whew sis youre whipped already 😳

and akaashi followed you back because he kinda recognised you from somewhere?? like he thinks hes seen you at a match before

like you were prolly in the seats, watching fukurodani go against, what hes assuming, is your high school vbc team

turns out hes right because once he checks your ig page out, you have some highlights under your bio and one of them said “vb matches 🏐”

so he taps on it and after about four stories, he sees his own uniform and the painful dump your highschool had pulled on fukurodani

akaashi literally gave himself a vibe check because he himself couldn’t actually fucking believe he was stalking your account

but the feelings mutual because you did too!

but you both don’t know that. duh

so you two obviously have never formally met before but i guess you guys can be called “online mutuals” since you guys often like each others photos

like you guys never miss to like a post when the other uploads one

and whenever you see akaashi’s @ pop up in your notifications board, you kinda just squeal and blush because omg.... the cute dude who you’ve never met before liked your photo.... again

(akaashi thinks you’re very cute, esp when you laugh... there was one post you uploaded and it was a photo of you mid laughing w a friend at a convenience store and he had a nosebleed at how cute & aesthetic you looked there)

(konoha was so concerned with akaashi’s flustered face it looked like he just made out with someone 💀)

you’re kinda curious as well like there hasn’t ever been a dude who is this consistent with liking your posts

and so early on when you’d just uploaded them 😳🤚🏼

you even experimented it at some point like the latest he would like one of your posts is thirty minutes

now now hunty its not just him whos guilty

because you are always there to watch his vbc videos whenever he posts on his story

is it weird to say you might have his story notifications on 👉🏼👈🏼 teehee

akaashi notices this whenever he checks his story views because your name is literally within the first fifteen ig @‘s

its also kinda confusing as well because you both don’t know if you hold anything mutual for each other even if you both pay attention to each others media pages often

cus that doesn’t guarantee anything mutual

but at some point konoha finds out about akaashi’s lil crush on you and discovers that its a lot worse than he thought LMAOO

so he and bokuto (because he obvi wants to help be a great wingman to his underclassmen) secretly take akaashis phone while hes changing and snap a quick selfie of themselves

they send it to you through your dms and the notification you see is literally “the user of this account has a crush on you”

[dinosaur screeching ensues]

and you reply back “???” because you’re like omg?? the feelings mutual??? but also like??? huh??

akaashi is yelling, there is chaos in fukurodani’s vbc clubroom and everyone else is in tears at how hilarious the situation is

“bokuto-san, konoha! what were you two thinking??1?1??1?1” akaashi’s swore hes never felt this panicked in his life

he sees your reply and he replies back saying “i’m sorry, my friends took my phone in secret.”

then you’re like :( was that just a prank? that was mean :( and you get kinda disappointed but before you can even reply back he literally speed types this:

“my friends aren’t wrong though”

WHAT

aha did he just confess his feelings????

then i guess it means its your turn! ;D

“👉🏼👈🏼 what if.... what if i also feel the same way??”

akaashi_has_stopped_working.exe

konoha and bokuto are liking the way akaashi’s face is smiling so brightly tho 😚 they know they Won

#Bokunoha1stWin 🏅

you and akaashi end up getting to know each other better, he also likes the way you use memes to express your feelings sometimes

its amusing and endearing at the same time

you also become confident enough to reply to his stories whenever he posts them, sparking more cute conversations with him

he also likes to ask you where you go on weekends since you always go to such cute and aesthetic places

you guys slowly become that pairing thats always matching with the cutest clothes during ‘hang-outs’ and when yall post these photos everyone in the comments are like 👀

and its only called ‘hang-outs’ cus yall haven’t made anything official yet

but you both know you hold each others hearts 🥰

#haikyuu!!#akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #hq x y/n #hq x reader #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

Insta Queen

Prompt + Pairing: Social Media AU, ‘Water’ + Pipabeth

A/N: MY FIRST PIPABETH FIC!! I actually loved writing for these two, I really underrated how good this ship is. Can't belive I've posted for 8 days in a row! I'm kinda proud of myself but I'm also kinda scraed that I might jinx myself. Anyway, hope yall enjoy and please comment! <3 from Phi phi!

Read on A03 WritersMonth 2021 Masterlist

“Are you stalking Piper on Instagram?” Percy asked Annabeth as he watched her scroll through her phone. He stood behind Annabeth who thought she was covertly stalking her science Partner- Piper Mclean.

“Ah!” Annabeth shrieked before wincing when she realised that she was in a library. “Percy, what the hell?”

Her best friend smirked as he saw the phone. Piper Mclean’s instagram was no noobs- afterall, she was the well known daughter of a movie star. It was no surprise that she had many, many followers and Annabeth was here clearly contemplating whether she should be one of them.

“What do you mean, what the hell?” Percy asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

Annabeth grunted and turned back to her phone as Percy took a seat next to her. She seemed hypnotised as she scrolled through the pictures of her practically perfect science partner.

“Careful Annie, someone might see.”

Annabeth suddenly hugged her phone to her chest. “ Really?”

“You’re practically drooling,” Percy sniggered before pouting as he rubbed his sore shoulder which Annabeth had abruptly punched from the response. “ I was only kidding.”

“Go kid somewhere else.”

“Because you’re busy thristing over your science partner?”

Annabeth huffed as she blushed heavily while staring at the picture of Piper on her phone, grinning cheesily with Hazel beside her. “ Precisely.”

Percy groaned before jolting up. “ Wait- so you admit it! You were thirsting over Piper Mclean!”

At this, Annabeth wrapped her hand around Percy’s mouth, yanking him back down. “ Not so loud, you incompetent bumbling bafoon!” she hissed.

“You should like her photo,” Percy mumbled from behind Annabeth's hand. As she had yet to set his mouth free, he poked at her fingers… with his tongue.

“Percy!” Annabeth yelped as she wiped her hand on her best friend's shoulder.” Gross.”

Turning back to her phone, she glanced at the beautiful- Radiant- picture of Piper before noticing the small red heart in the corner. She took no notice of it until she realised what it truly meant. She almost let out a deafening yell as she turned to the tall, black haired boy beside her.

“You seaweed brain! Look what you’ve done!” She shoved his phone into his face, causing Percy to drop his mouth into a small ‘o’. She was in fact so panicked that she didn't even take it into account when Percy took her phone out of her hand and analysed it.

She snatched her bag and with a heavy grunt and left the library who were- for once- grateful to be rid of Annabeth.

She was simply finishing some math homework when she heard the ‘ping!’ of her phone. Dashing over eagerly in the hopes that Piper may have texted her, she checked the notification- only for it to be a note from Instagram telling her that Piper_Mclean had posted again.

Weird- she didn’t follow Piper, why was she getting notifications? Maybe Insta noticed her stalking and was being considerate.

However, her very thoughts were replaced by a horrific reality when she found that she did indeed follow Piper_Mclean. Almost sporadically, she scrolled through all of her ‘Following’ on her Instagram and she was mortified to find Piper’s account with the little blue tick verifying her right there.

Nonononono

“Annabeth?” Percy’s tired voice rang through her phone as she dialed him. “ Why are you calling me at … 12:00?”

“Don’t even try it, fish face, I know you’re online on the PS5 party- Why on earth am I following Piper?”

“You’re following Piper? I get she’s a celeb but isn't it a bit much to be full on stalking her home and stuff now?”

“Not that- Oh my god, just wait until I see you at school; I'm going to peel your face off! You followed her for me on my phone, didn’t you!”

“Uh well-”

The phone line cut out and Percy stared at his phone as he propped his feet up in front of him and put his headset back on.

“If she was just going to call me to scold me, couldn’t she have waited until the next day?”

“Perseus Poseidon Jackson!” Annabeth screeched as she found him, propping his skateboard under his arm.

“Sup Annie?”

“Don’t ‘sup’ me- You know what youre crimes are!”

“I also know how to make up for said crimes,” Percy smirked, which ultimately terrified Annabeth more. She gulped as she remembered the last time Percy had tried to make up for his crimes rather than simply endure the punishment.

“Wha.. what did you do?”

Percy winked. “Just you see.”

Annabeth fidgeted with her pen as she waited for her partner to sit next to her in science. Normally Piper was an on time student. Despite being relatively popular and active among social media- she was also a top pupil achieving grades almost as good as Annabeth herself.

Finally she heard a bag polo down beside hers and she looked up to see Piper sitting beside her and as per usual- she was smiling. Annabeth could feel her face heating up as she prepared herself to apologise deeply for what had happened the previous night.

“Piper, I am so sorry abo-”

“You followed me! I was trying to find your account but I didn’t know which one was you and I didn’t want to accidentally text the wrong person.”

Annabeth was breathless. “Huh?”

“Your number,” Piper frowned sadly. “ You never gave me your number.”

P[iper Mclean- daughter of the famous, successful and rich Movie star wanted her number? Beautiful, stunning Model like Piper Mclean wanted her number? Intelligent, hardworking and loyal Piper wanted her number?

Annabeth quickly scanned the room for cameras or for someone to jump out at some moment and shout ‘Pranked you!’ but alas, no such message came.

“Do you not want to?”

“No! No, no- I just um..” She gave a brief cough, “ I just needed some water,”

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you saturday- at the study cafe?” Piper flipped her notebook open as she asked Annabeth out in what she thought to be a super nonchalant manner- her smile only slightly increased when she saw Annabeth cough and slightly choke on the water she was drinking.

“What?” She rasped.

“”Saturday. Me, you, study Cafe?”

Annabeth, who had now lost the ability to speak, simply nodded, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Piper let out a hearty laugh. “ It’s a date then.”

Those very words had Annabeth's stomach erupting into confetti.- and to think this all came from a simple like on Instagram

#writersmonth #Piper McLean #Annabeth Chase #piper mclean fanfic #annabeth chase fanfic #pipabeth #pipabeth fanfic #pipbaeth fluff #piper x annabeth #annabeth x piper #piper x annabeth fanfic #annabeth x piper fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #percy is annabeths wingman #piper is confident #annabeth is kinda shy #pjo #pjo fanfic

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currywaifu · 4 years

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: mutuals 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: miyoshi kazunari/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: me? back w/ fluff? it’s expected at this point! his speech is hard for me to replicate, but I rly do love Kazunari so I hope I did this scenario justice! I, uh, got too excited at the prospect of “insta mutuals” oops~ hope you don’t mind the additional media TT

The Insta notification that popped up on the top of your screen distracted you from the game you were playing. Normally you’d flick the notif away, but as soon as you realised what it was about, you rushed to finish the rest of the stage.

You and Kazunari have been Insta Mutuals for nearly a year now, ever since he hit you with a follow and you proceeded to stalk his readily-available socials.

The two of you had been liking and commenting on each others’ posts for weeks on end, starting off with you praising his most recent graphic design work to him sending a paragraph of heart emojis on the most recent fan art you drew.

Somewhere in between following each others’ spam accounts to tagging each other on Insta story games, he finally slid into your DMs and the rest was history. Sort of.

You knew what people said about online dating, or even just long distance relationships in general, but try as you might it was hard not to fall for Kazunari.

The more you talked to him, the less he stayed as your “funny artist mutual” and soon enough he progressed into the “still funny but also really sweet and cute artist online friend, 10/10 would date if asked” category.

You didn’t bother stifling your laugh as you looked at the message he sent you, immediately liking his selfie before saving it on your phone.

Okay, no. He can’t just hit you with an “I do wanna meet u already” and then take it back but not fully commit to it!

You waited for him to respond through text, but instead got hit by your ringtone blaring loudly at such an ungodly hour. At the sight of your contact nickname for him, you eagerly answered his call. You rushed to get the first word in, him doing the same unbeknownst to you.

“Kazu-“

“Babe, I-“

The both of you paused, his eventual laughter easing up your tension as you let out a giggle of your own. You mentally told yourself not to be so nervous— Kazunari and you would have this conversation eventually anyway; besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to see him in person. It was quite the opposite, actually. You just figured that conversations like this needed to happen in call, at least.

“Shoot, should probs shut up so Mukkun doesn’t wake up,” Kazunari commented, his voice volume already lowered, “do you wanna go first?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with resolve. You gathered up your thoughts, formulating the next set of sentences that would leave your mouth, before ultimately deciding on one question. “I just need to know first… how serious were you about meeting up irl?”

“I mean, that wasn’t what I meant when I sent the message? But like, it’s still valid, you know?” he paused, but when you didn’t say anything he decided to continue, “it’s not the first time I’ve thought about meeting you. I think about it a lot, actually.”

It was a bit of a shame the two of you chose to voice call instead of video call. You would’ve loved to see your boyfriend’s face just about now, though you supposed it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a heart attack a quarter to 4 in the morning.

Plus, you weren’t sure you could handle him teasing and throwing compliments at you due to your clearly visible elation, if the upwards stretch of your lips was anything to go by.

“Babe? You still there? Did you pass out, or…” In reality it had only been a few seconds, but still you didn’t want to leave him hanging. Not when the two of you were talking about something that meant taking the next step in your relationship.

“I’m still here, Kazu,” you reassured him. Your voice shook slightly, a sliver of your excitement slipping through the cracks. “I’m the same. Like, no lie I was shocked we brought it up like this, but, um… I’m ready, and if you’re ready, too, I want to meet up with you.”

“Wait, wait, wait— hol’ up! So we’re finally going—“ he laughed for the second time tonight, a fuzzy-wuzzy warmth escaping as its sound equivalent. “Wahh! Of course I’m ready! Can’t wait to finally see what a cutie you are irl♪ Hngg, how am I supposed to sleep now? I’m too hyped up!”

You rolled your eyes, despite understanding exactly how he felt. His infectious cheerfulness amplified the blossoming commotion occurring inside your brain. Despite not making any official plans yet, the prospect of finally meeting up had you frenzied.

Still, one of you had to be at least slightly responsible. While you wouldn’t claim to know his daily schedule, if Veludo Arts was anything like your university, he should be as swamped with workload as you were. Actually, maybe that was the reason he was up so late? That’s how it was for you, anyway excluding the fact that you took a break to stamina clear.

“It’s nearly 4 am… do you wanna continue planning this tomorrow? Err, rather, in a couple hours? After our lectures end, maybe?” You asked, though by the tiny whine Kazunari let out you had a feeling he wasn’t going to agree so quickly.

“Ehh? Why don’t we do it now? I have so many ideas about where we could go, and what we could do… oh! I could introduce you to everyone in Mankai! I’m sure they’d love-“

“I’d love to meet them too,” you cut him off, tone as firm as you could manage at this time, “and I want to hear your ideas, really, but I just know if I let you keep talking the sun will rise before we’ve even decided on a date.”

You chuckled as Kazunari let out a sound of protest, though you had a feeling he knew you weren’t wrong about your assessment. “Zuzu~ Let’s go to sleep now, okay?”

His phone microphone picked up on an audible gasp. “Ehh, how come you rarely call me Zuzu? It’s cute when you say it!”

“Because it sounds like a nickname you’d give to a Pokemon!”

“Uwu, maybe I’ll get Itarun to lend me a copy? Then I’ll catch the cutest Pokemon and name it after you~” you nearly groaned at how fluffy he was being. Seriously, he was distracting you from your agenda of going to sleep!

“Kazu! Stop flirting with me at 4 am or we might not fall asleep!”

Though you couldn’t see him, you were 200% sure he had a wide grin plastered on his face right now. “Me? Using tactics to get you to keep talking with me? Never,” he claimed, professing his false innocence.

“Well, I’m not falling for it! I may not be able to physically tuck you in bed right now, but I can in spirit!”

“Oh!? Then can you give me a goodnight kiss in spirit, too?”

At this point, you were sure that even with just a poke on the cheek you’d be able to feel the heat beginning to envelop your face.

As Kazunari finished laughing, you let the quiet lull of the night seep in the conversation for a few moments before gently breaking it.

“I’d rather give you a kiss irl, though.”

And just like that, you claimed victory over the game he started. With how Kazunari sputtered, a part of you worried that he’d disturb his roommate’s slumber. Still, an even bigger part of you was smug to have him speechless for that much of a duration.

“Babeeeee,” he drawled, “you’re so, so, so unfair… I, like, really want to hold you tight right now…” he murmured, the rustle of his bedsheets discernible through the call. You found yourself nestling onto your bed, too, snuggling up to a soft pillow.

“Soon,” you suddenly yawned, your tiredness seeming to have settled in the comfier you got on the bed. “We’ll have a lot of time to plan tomorrow and the days after, yeah?”

Kazunari let out a hum in agreement, a comfortable silence following suit.

“Kazu?” You muttered quietly, careful not to disturb your peaceful atmosphere.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Good night,” you said, heart aflutter as you heard his response.

“I love you, too, cutie~ sweet dreams♪” he said in an unbelievably soft tone, before ending the call.

After quickly connecting your phone to a charger, you fell back atop your bed and hugged your pillow tight, already anticipating the day you’d be able to hold Kazunari in your arms, and you in his.

…

Morning come, you hastily prepared for class as you always did. You fell into your usual routine— as soon as you were out of the bathroom, you selected an outfit and went over the things you needed to bring to uni today.

You stopped for a minute; taking a quick selfie to post on your story and emphasise your exhaustion to your close friends, before making yourself some breakfast. Within less than 5 minutes, your phone pinged— a recorded message from one of your favourite people this early in the morning.

"Mornin' piko☆ You're looking cute as always today♪”

There was no way you would admit to how many times you replayed it to Kazunari, but even so it was a good way to keep you positive for the rest of the day.

You don’t remember Veludo Way being this rowdy, though it was hard to trust your memory when it’s probably been years since you’ve last visited. Somehow, it was not tough to imagine Kazunari walking around and performing here— the liveliness of the streets difficult to not associate with one of the liveliest people you knew.

While the original plan was to meet up at a cute and trendy cafe you saw all over people’s SNS, the two of you agreed to meet up somewhere less crowded and more meaningful to him— the theatre which he’d performed at multiple times in the past.

As you saw the building from a distance, you wondered when you’d be able to see him on stage, too.

A shout of your name pulled you out of your thoughts, and you couldn’t help yourself from running over to meet up faster with the figure that was jumping and waving around in your direction.

Had you any sense left, you probably would have told him that you didn’t want him embarrassing himself in public, but in reality it was quite apparent that you were just as excited to finally see him in person.

“Kazunari!” you can’t help the little shriek you let out as you finally embrace him, only joyous laughter and each others’ names escaping the both of your lips. When you finally got a good look at Kazunari, you nearly wanted to bury yourself into his shirt again.

Everything still seemed so unbelievable. That this was real. That it was finally happening. It almost felt like the dreams you’ve had of this moment many times before.

“How are you so beautiful in person, too?! It’s totes like I’m falling in love with you again♪” Kazunari exclaimed, squeezing you one more time before finally settling on holding hands with you. “Ahh! I super, duper love you!”

Except it wasn’t. There was nothing imaginary about his warmth, and the way his words made you feel, and the beaming sunshine of a smile he aimed at you.

“I love you, too!”

want to order again?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! kazunari #kazunari miyoshi #miyoshi kazunari #cafe: dessert menu #a3 x reader #a3 actor training game #a3! game #a3! actor training game

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skrltwtch · 3 years

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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louiserandom · 4 years

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Play Games with Me

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: E

A/N: Commission for the amazing @rookie-d💙💗 thank you so much! *hugs*

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi and fic commission info in the header!

Tobirama SenJERK has never had sex in his life, Madara types, as always brimming with spite when it comes to his least favorite person in town. Maybe on the planet.

Rereading the comment and satisfied that there aren’t any typos or any hint whatsoever at some kind of hidden affection (which isn’t there, never was and never will be, Madara reminds himself firmly), he hits ‘Comment.’

“Take that, you dumbass,” Madara mutters under his breath, and really, this could be classified as childish, were he not completely in the right to take vicious revenge upon the fucking asshole who dared refer to Madara as ‘so idiotic it’s pitifully adorable’ on his last stream. Hah! Like Tobirama isn’t the less intelligent one of the two of them; Madara has watched enough of his Uncharted 4 gameplay to note that Tobirama took twelve seconds longer than him to figure out arguably the most difficult puzzle in the game. And although Madara’s sub count doesn’t quite reflect his superior intellect compared to Senju’sーnot that he’s checked in a whileーit’s likely a testament to the viewers’ total lack of taste, if anything else.

(Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty four viewer’s, to be precise, according to this morning’s stats and minus the handful of Madara’s fake accounts that he created just in case to keep up with his chief competitor. Admittedly, it might be a tad annoying.)

A notification pipes up.

Hm, I wonder how you’d know that, MaddyGamerboy? Are you stalking me? I must admit, I’m flattered.

Madara sputters at the reply. At yet another butchering of his perfectly adequate nickname. The fucking nerve of the guyーand people fucking wonder why Madara hates his guts?

(Madara knows it doesn’t really help his case that he’s touched himself to fantasies of the younger Senju more times than he’d care to count, but hate-fucking a thing isn’t it? Hate-masturbation must be too, he supposes. Not the healthiest outlet for negative feelings, but it makes him feel good enough.)

(Heavenly, to be precise.)

I AM NOT, YOU SELF-OBSESSED DUMBASS, Madara types, simultaneously taking care of the half-a-dozen typos that appear of their own accord.

No.

Deep breath. Stop fingers from shaking. Think about something witty to say.

Pff, he writes, for lack of any better word to express his indignant huff, like I give a shit about you. You’re dumb.

It did sound much better in his head, but Madara has spent over a minute writing the comment already, and he doesn’t want to appear as if he’s thinking too hard on it.

He posts his answer, not dwelling too match on the number of likes on Tobirama’s comment far outnumbering the hundred Madara’s garnered. Again, Tobirama’s audience is clearly not the best judge of character.

“FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS, SENJU!” Madara shouts at the reply that follows, consisting only of the words:

Thanks for the sub btw.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Madara hisses. “Like eight fucking fake accounts do anything to boost your stats, I don’t even like all your videos from each one of them, you ass!”

I DID NOT SUB DONT BELIEVE HIM

I’m happy to have another loyal fan ;)

HE IS FUCKING LYEING!!!

With seemingly every single person in the comments raving about how it’s about time MadGamer69 and admitted he admires FlyingThunderGod’s skill, Madara has to consciously restrain himself from smashing his laptop against the wall.

“You can just tell him you like him, you know.”

Madara startles, almost stumbling to the floor when Hashirama returns with their drinks and quickly put-together snacks, always the one to rummage through Madara’s kitchen because Madara hardly cares what edible and inedible things existed there or what to do with themーthat’s Izuna’s job.

“I do not,” Madara snarls, as Hashirama flops next to him on the couch, “like that stupid clusterfuck you call a brother!”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, with that ever-present pout on his face. “Be civil.”

“Yeah, when he returns the favor,” Madara glowers, grabbing a milkshake from Hashirama’s hand. “Did you forget that he fucking started it? Do I need to quote his “pitifully adorable how so much stupidity can fit in such a short man” again?” Madara can’t help flailing his arms a little, though far too conscious of this habit now since the Tobirama has started pointing it out. He makes up for it with what he hopes is a deadly enough glare. “Did no one in your family bother to teach him manners? Did you?”

Hashirama only sighs. “And did you forget,” he asks, “how before that you abused my invitation over to our place to hide his Golden Youtube Gamer Tablet?”

Madara groans. “It’s called a Gold Play Button. Idiot.”

“Now you’re insulting me,” Hashirama grumbles, “and who cares? The point is, you’d be upset too if he hid yours.”

“Youtubers care,” Madara says, “and also, that’s irrelevant, that was revenge for him making fun of my perfectly adequate gameplay.”

“To be fair, you were dying quite a lot in that playthrough...”

“He took twelve seconds longer to figure out that puzzle in the game!” Madara growls.

Hashirama rolls his eyes. “Well, of course, because that Yellow Flash guy was flirting and distracting him in the chat.”

Madara blanches. "That good-for-nothing pipsqueak was what?”

“See,” Hashirama drawls, “you are jealous. Why would you be jealous?”

“I-I’m not!”

“Madara, you are so far in denial, that as your best friend,” Hashirama says firmly, slapping a hand over Madara’s mouth before he can muster another protest, “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer. Anymore, that is, because this has reached a breaking point. So, please, for me, I am begging you, just try politely asking if maybe Tobirama would like to accompany you for coffee somewhere tomorrow? Maybe brunch? I mean, come on, I know you guys don’t hate each other anymore. Seriously, you guys seem like you enjoy arguments, and hey, who am I to judge how people express affection?”

“Affection?!” Madara shrieks, shoving Hashirama’s hand away.

“And please stop pretending you don’t have printed out screenshots of my brother’s videos hidden under your mattress because Izunaー”

“Is a fucking snooping rat!” Madara hisses.

Hashirama sighs. “If it helps you feel better, maybe Tobirama might possibly not feel extreme dislike towards you but actually the opposite,” he says, smiling nervously as Madara blanches.

Because... what?

He blinks, running Hashirama’s words through his mind again.

“And how would you know that?” he asks, suspicious. “I swear if you dared tell him anything about my possibly nonexistent feelingsー”

“Possibly?” Excitement starts bubbling in Hashirama’s eyes. “That’s progress!”

“Definitely nonexistent feelings, dammit!”

Hashirama, the asshole Madara calls best friend for some reason, giggles. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. I promise, stop glaring or I will start pouting,” he threatens, and Madara schools his expression back into a light scowl to avoid the infamous Senju pout.

Like a curse, memories of said pout curling Tobirama’s lips spring to mind, and Madara has to physically shake his head to banish those thoughts.

“Listen, the fact that we’re not as... aggressive as we used to be,” Madara says, “doesn’t mean we suddenly like each other.”

“Madara, you insist on coming along every time we hang out,” Hashirama points out.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yet every time we do,” Hashirama presses on, “you’re hyperfocused on bickering with Tobirama instead of talking about wholesome stuff with me. Did you even notice that I brought Mito with me the past few times and it was literally a double date?”

“Was not!” Madara shoves at Hashirama with his shoulder and stands up to pace, because there goes the tell-tale sweating of his hands, the fluttering in his chest and stomach and the memoriesーof him and Tobirama secretly filming the other on camera when they do stupid shit, their almost daily Best Playground Insult Contest that’s been memed half to death on Twitter, the one time they got separated from Hashirama and Izuna in Disneyland because they’d got caught in their arguments so much it devolved into discussing their favorite games and an actual conversation that had Madara’s insides tingling.

No.

No, no, no. If anything, they were just gradually becoming something not unlike friends. And Madara’s occasional fantasies behind closed doors were nothing but a means to a pleasant end.

Not. Feelings.

No matter how much he’s grown attached to the site of messy, white-gray hair that he knows is soft to the touch from all the times he’s tugged on it to irritate him. No matter how piercing Tobirama’s unique red eyes may look. No matter how objectively hot his recent workout routine video wasーand Madara knows he’d only watched it so many times because he wants to improve his own routine, right?

Right?

Madara groans. “Why are emotions so fucking confusing!” He slumps onto the floor and wraps his arms around his knees, hitting his head over and over again on his kneecaps because, “I don’t even know what I want from him, okay?”

There’s a brief silence before Hashirama joins him and keeps him from abusing his head further. “How about,” Hashirama suggests, rubbing a comforting hand on his back, “you just ask? Listen, he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. You two fighting less and at least making an effort to get to know each other better?” Hashirama brings out the puppy dog eyes. “That would mean the world for me.”

Madara glances at him before looking away again, focusing on a random photo of the wall. One featuring Tobirama right after his university graduation with a wide smile on his face. Quite the adorable face, too, and the unprompted thought makes Madara want to descend into oblivion. Preferably forever.

“That’s difficult,” he says lamely.

“But not impossible,” Hashirama says, “and hey, it’s better than waiting for the Yellow Flash guy to actually make a move on Tobi and start occupying all of his time. He’s a really big fan.”

“Fuck Minato,” Madara scoffs, “the guy just showed up and is just shamelessly emulating Tobirama’s style. That’s dumb.”

“Dumber than you claim Tobi is?” Hashirama prompts.

Madara thinks about it. “You know what? Yes.”

“As I saidーprogress!”

Madara can never go through with his impulses to punch his well-meaning best friend, and so grabs the nearest pillow from the couch and smashes it into Hashirama’s face to shut him up.

Tobirama returns home only to find Hashirama and Madara standing by the front door, frowning as they watched something that sounded like a tsunami of some kind.

“Listen, it’s gotta be one of those black holes or something twisting that vortex. Look how stuff disappears right into it!” is his brother talking, and Tobirama is already heaving a frustrated sigh.

Please don’t tell me you think there’s a black hole on Earth.

“There’s no black holes on Earth, idiot! The nearest one is way off, like near Pluto or something,” Madara says.

Ah. Even better. Tobirama chuckles under his breath, crosses his arms and leans against the wall, observing the two idiots he knows and loves.

He mentally kicks himself.

Well, one of them, he loves. Of course he loves his brother.

The other is... complicated.

“And besides, that could just be the Loch Ness monster or a cthulhu or something. See how dark the water is?”

“Or maybe,” Tobirama says, making them both jump, “it’s a natural phenomenon that’s a tad too difficult for both your brain cells to comprehend? I’m happy to explain though.”

“I’m happy to see you fuck yourself,” Madara greets him his usual way, scowling despite the exceptionally conspicuous blush painting his cheeks.

The contrast never fails to make Tobirama’s heart beat faster. He hates himself for it.

“Mm, Madara,” Tobirama teases, “not in front of my brother.”

As expected, Madara starts spluttering, and Tobirama is left wondering again how he avoids making a total fool of himself in each and every one of his videos. It seems Madara saves most of his flailing for the comment section.

“You,” Madara snarls, pointing Tobirama’s way, “are an asshole, Senju, but spending time with the better part of society might do you some good. So see you at brunch tomorrow and do not be late.”

And with that, Madara gives Hashirama a cursory wave and stalks off, leaving Tobirama frozen on the spot.

Did Madara just?..

Tobirama blinks, swallowing heavily as he feels his throat running dry and his heart rate pick up.

No fucking way.

He must have imagined it. Through his stupor of trying to figure out what the hell just took place, Tobirama vaguely registers Hashirama’s facepalm.

“Sorry for that,” Tobirama hears his brother speak through the rush in his ears. “He meant, uh, will you please join him for brunch? Tomorrow at 11 am, Eggspectation?”

Tobirama blinks harder.

“I,” he starts, “I don’t... Did you blackmail Madara into asking me out?”

Hashirama looks scandalized. “What? No!”

“Did Madara just ask me out?”

“Well, yes, Tobi.” Hashirama chuckles nervously. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Tobirama glares. “The idiot’s wake up text to me today was literally a collection of trashy limerick poems about how much I suck. Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You,” Hashirama says, wincing as a long-suffering expression settles on his face, “you guys send wake up texts to each other?”

A moment of awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Sometimes,” Tobirama says, defensive, although the damage is already done.

“And you’re still not going out? Tobirama, you do realize he’s in love with you, right?”

“Don’t say things like that, Anija!” Tobirama snaps, hoping the dim lighting in the corridor conceals the blush he can feel heating up his cheeks. Fuck. Now he’s turning Madara. “Yet, I mean.”

“I’ll save the celebrations until after your date then!” Hashirama sing-songs like the idiot he is.

Tobirama resigns to his fate. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ll thank me for this.”

“If it goes well,” Tobirama glowers though it’s ineffective, really, against his brother’s bubbling positivity, and the sheer awe still coursing through him from Madara asking him out on a fucking date is actually enough to make Tobirama want to hug him. He refrains. "Now, thanks, Anija, but I have work things to attend to.”

“Sure! Just don’t forget, 11ー”

“Eleven eggs and uh, no expectations, got it.”

“Wait, Tobi, noー”

With no time to waste, naturally, Tobirama bolts into their apartment and straight to his room to choose an appropriate outfit. And to mentally prepare himself for something he’s almost given up hoping for.

Tobirama cannotーwill notーmess this up.

Tobirama makes sure to arrive about ten minutes early. Not because he’s worried or nervous, of course; maybe just a little, but mostly just to get his bearings beforeーfinallyーa date with Madara goddamn Uchiha.

Madara, who’s been Tobirama’s stupid crush since high school, and just as in love with gaming as he is, only that didn’t turn out to be such a great bonding point between them, as Tobirama had hopedーbefore he actually got to know his Anija’s best friend.

Madara, who seemed to dislike Tobirama at first sight and only grew to hate him more over the years as they both found more joy in arguing than they did in talking.

Madara, who, despite this, blushes every rare time Tobirama genuinely smiles at him or drops a suggestive joke, who has an arguably unhealthy obsession with Tobirama’s ass which he always ogles when he thinks no one is looking.

Madara, whose plastered ass Tobirama had to drag home the other week, amid drunken speeches about capitalist injustice, some wacky conspiracy behind the disappearance of the dodo bird and... something quite interesting.

“Listen, Senju,” Madara was slurring against Tobirama’s shoulder, as the latter cursed every single nonexistent god that Hashirama had chosen that fucking day to go on a road trip with Mito, Toka and Izuna, leaving Tobirama in charge of this walking trash fire of a man. “Listen. Tobira... Tobi. Tobirama. You’re so hot.”

The words almost made Tobirama stumble.

“What, Uchiha?”

“And cute... So pretty, too, I wish you could see that...” Madara went on babbling. “I think you do. But still. Wish you could see me like I do. I mean see you. Like I do...”

“Tobira, you’re just, you’re unfair...”

“I hate you and I like you then I love you and I hate you again, why you’reー” A hiccup. “How do you exist...”

“I just want to hold hands and just... walk and talk and be together and...”

Tobirama watched in ever mounting confusion as Madara leaned completely into him, humming as he hugged Tobirama tightly and said,

“Is that too fucking much to ask...”

Tobirama stood, shell-shocked, with Madara whispering impossible nonsense in his arms, wondering if he was in a dream.

The next day saw Madara returning to his usual self insulting Tobirama at every goddamn opportunity, which left Tobirama... confused.

Confused, and conflicted, and sleepless for the rest of the night, thoughts held captive by the utter idiot whose ultimate goal seems to be to ruin Tobirama’s life.

It’s maddening.

Of course, he’d suspected that Madara’s flailing and constant blushing interspersed with screams and insults (the most creative ones, reserved only for Tobirama, it seemed) were signs of not so much dislike, as the complete opposite. Of course, Tobirama had tried flirting with Madara, just bordering right there on the edge of suggestive, only for his advances to be seen as patronizing or condescending. And hearing Madara speak to him this way, in a drunken stupor no less, when he’d probably have no causeーor abilityーto lie is...

Maddening. Annoying. Exhilarating. A tantalizing opportunity. Maybe a glimmer of hope.

And of course, Tobirama told his brother; they never really had any secrets between them. And of fucking course Hashirama had a hand in convincing Madara to change his usual behavior, which is nice and all, but doesn’t help the nerves wracking through Tobirama’s body, nor the crippling fear that he’s going to somehow screw this up.

But no. Deep breath. Exhale. And remember Anija’s advice.

Tobirama takes the last turn before he’s faced with their meeting place, surprised to find Madara already there.

Even though he’s usually always late. Sitting inside by the window, looking out onto the street with a slight frown, Madara keeps worrying his bottom lip and, apparently, trying to break a spoon.

It paints an endearing picture. Tobirama sighs, feeling a smile tugging at his lips.

This man...

Tobirama comes in, approaching him slowly, allowing himself a few moments to watch Madara needlessly fix his wild mane of hair, appraise his reflection in the spoon, try out several fake-looking smiles before settling on a scowl and going back to his nervous tics again. With another sigh, Tobirama takes the few steps left to his date, repeating Hashirama’s advice over and over in his head.

Just be yourselfーand have fun!

Just a few minutes into their date, it becomes obvious that Madara didn’t get the same advice from Hashirama.

Or just didn’t get the advice, period.

With their orders made and beverages served, they’re left to wallow in a less than comfortable silence, broken only by Madara’s... uncharacteristic attempts at conversation.

“Are you enjoying the tea?” Madara asks Tobirama with all of the softness of a brick wall.

Tobirama isn’t used to the man being eloquent, much less polite, and he has yet to have at least one conversation with Madara that doesn’t devolve into a pissing contest. So theoretically, Tobirama should be enjoying this.

But it only seems wrong. Annoying. Not them.

He tries to recall if, maybe, their first meeting was an adequate exchange? Tobirama thinks to the day Hashirama first introduced them. Only flashes of spilled milkshakes and jibes at intelligence run through his mind, and of course that was the very first time he’d called Madara an idiot pipsqueak, receiving quite the lame ‘stuck-up dandelion’ in turn.

Unsurprising.

“Yes,” Tobirama says, taking another sip as he eyes Madara struggling on the other side of the table. Struggling to do what is the question: either sit straight, or assume a more relaxed posture, or reach towards his own drink, or avoid eye contact, even though he keeps glancing his way when he thinks Tobirama won’t notice. Tobirama does, every time, and that just makes the whole ordeal more awkward. “Nice weather,” Tobirama says, with about as much enthusiasm.

If Madara wants to play this stupid game, Tobirama will indulge. Just to see how long it takes for Madara to break and return to his blustering status quo.

“Yeah...” Madara clears his throat, eye twitching as he manages to hold Tobirama’s gaze for a commendable three seconds this time. “Hate the sun. I meanーI mean I love the sun. Ugh. It just, uh. Burns.”

It’s both saddening and funny to see Madara visibly deflate.

“Skin too sensitive, huh?” Tobirama starts small. “Just like your ego?”

Madara’s jaw clenches and his nervous look shifts into a glare before he looks away again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he flashes an unnaturally cheery smile.

“Heh, nice,” Madara grits through his teeth, “nice joke, Senju.”

Tobirama raises his eyebrow as Madara flinches at his own words.

“I’m glad you appreciate my sense of humor,” Tobirama says, barely reining in a smirk.

“Sure! You’reーyou’re funny.”

“And?”

“And what?” Madara frowns, confused.

“And what else am I?” Tobirama demands, feigning thoughtfulness. “A recent assessment of yours was that I look and act like a self-obsessed dumbass, I think.”

“No-no,” Madara blurts out, looking much a cornered animal, “I think you... you are... you look not at all so terrible today?” he finishes with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Tobirama wants to scream from the agony.

No. This won’t do, otherwise he might as well leave.

“Can you just call me a stuck-up asshole like you always do or recite one of those horrible limerick disses?” he demands.

Madara actually yelps. “What? No! I mean, wait.” He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re acting weird.”

“We’re on a date, if you were too stupーpreoccupied to get my invitation, Senju,” Madara says, jaw still clenched as he doubtless refrains from swearing, “and I’m being civil!”

That’s the advice he must have gotten from Anija, Tobirama thinks.

What a tragedy.

“Madara,” Tobirama implores, leaning his eyebrows on the table and meeting Uchiha’s gaze, “have you considered thatーI prefer it when you aren’t?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, thank fuck!” Madara slams his hands on the table, heaving a massive sigh as Tobirama laughs in relief. “I was ready to fucking die, you piece of shit! How does your brother stay so fucking kind all the time, it’s fucking torture!”

Tobirama rolls his eyes. “It’s a talent, naturally. Just like your talent at embarrassing yourself and mine at being awesome.”

“You’ve got it a little backwards, Senju,” Madara sneers, “but it’s excusable, given your level of intellect.”

“Twice as high as yours?” Tobirama parries.

“Twice as little.”

“That’s more like it,” Tobirama says, grinning despite himself, “I thought you were a decoy or something. You’ve told me to fuck off every single day since we first met and this was getting worrisome.”

Madara’s laugh is sudden, melodic, sending those irritating tingling sensations through Tobirama’s body. He makes an effort to appear outwardly calm.

“Maybe because you managed to piss me the fuck off every day that I’ve known you,” Madara scoffs, “but you’re all right sometimes. I guess.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as he keeps nervously fixing and running his fingers through his hair.

A stupid, tantalizing habit. Tobirama imagines carding his own hands through the messy locks, tugging Madara’s head back toー

He forcefully aborts the thought process before he’s faced with a problem of the harder kind. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll try to strangle each other when we game together.”

“We’re playing today?” Madara asks.

Tobirama tilts his head to the side.

“You haven’t planned one gaming session after our date?”

“Um,” Madara says, blinking rapidly, “why should I be the one with the plan?”

“Because you’re the one who invited me,” Tobirama deadpans. And anyway, Madara is always the one to egg Tobirama on to gaming, which would usually only ever lead to semi-playful brawls and their fighting making Hashirama cry.

And without Anija there to assault them with his antics, Tobirama wonders what their play-fighting might lead to... and promptly shuts off those thoughts again. Control, dammit.

Madara opens his mouth, then closes it, sighs explosively and says, “All right, fair enough. But you’re the strategy pro here. And my thing is RPGs.” He smirks. “I can improvise.”

And Madara does, in fact, improvise, leading Tobirama on what he hopes is a satisfying daylong adventure. It’s strange, walking by themselves around Konoha without anyone else with them (not that they’ve taken to ignoring Hashirama and Mito anyway on their most recent group outings), free to talk about and do anything they want. Strange and perfect, the way Tobirama switches between poorly concealed bashfulness and his usual confidence, as their jokes and jibes at each other, every little prank they pull never fails to make them both laugh.

It’s perfect.

Just like Tobirama’s smile is, directed at him without any pretenses as they set off to explore the lush, gigantic forest surrounding the city, rumored to be home to mythical, many-tailed creatures. And that’s followed by their forays into an abandoned chemistry lab; the scares they get in the woods from intermittent growls coming from the shadows are nothing compared to the horror Madara feels when Tobirama insists on touching broken vials and experimental equipment, and going through doors with dilapidated ‘DANGER. CHEMICAL HAZARD’ signs.

“If we’re infected by some deadly and insidious poison,” Madara whispers as they explore the lab’s tunnels, “I’m going to fucking kill you before it does. Painfully.”

“It’s for science,” Tobirama says. “And trust me. We’re safe. I got a degree in this.”

“Youtube is practically your full-time job at this point. What the fuck else do you need?”

“The satisfaction of discovering something cool?”

“And deadly.”

"Unlikely.”

Madara groans, cursing his life, as well as his inability to say no to hisーapparentlyーnew boyfriend.

The boyfriend who’s just discovered another hidden pathway to a deeper level and has scurried off towards it like an excited five-year-old. Despite himself, despite his intent to keep complaining, Madara can’t hold back the grin tugging at his lips.

Still perfect.

Just like their lunch date which turns into a picnic by the Naka river, where Madara remembers meeting Hashirama way back when. Just like the first time Tobirama grasps his hand, fingers gently massaging it as he laughs at Madara stuttering to a stop from whatever rant he’d been on, heart in his throat and mind suddenly focused on whether his palms are too sweaty or not.

His mind goes blank. Eyes focus only on the man in front of him, whom he yearns to strangle just as often as he craves to tackle him onto any surface and ruin him completely. And it should feel wrong, it should be, only Madara hasn’t quite felt so right about anything in a long time, and with every minute they spend with their familiar bickering, just with a layer of something more behind it this time, it becomes harder and harder to deny how good being near Tobirama makes him feel. Happy. Complete.

Madara winces. Oh, gods. He’s waxing poetic now.

All worries about that fly out the window when Tobirama, without so much as a word of warning, leans in and draws Madara by his collar into a kiss.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t spring up to awaken alone in his bed like he always does, after dreams like these.

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out to be Madara’s best kiss to date.

Maybe he’s exaggerating, if just because he’s been craving this so damn much. Tobirama’s lips are hot, gentle, and welcoming against his, a curious tongue darting out to coax Madara’s lips open and deepen the kiss. The delightful drag of his tongue, his hands, rough and demanding on Madara’s chest, waist, thighsーit’s not long before he’s dizzy with it, barely holding back moans of pleasure for fear of sounding too desperate.

“Fuck,” Madara gasps as they pull away for breath, lips still touching as their eyes stay locked and he’s treated to Tobirama’s downright ravenous gaze. “That wasー”

Tobirama cuts him off with another kiss, then another, and it’s not long before they find themselves tangled in a mess of limbs and loose clothing. The hard ground presses against Madara’s back as Tobirama settles on top of him, ravaging Madara’s mouth with a passion that soon has his pants feeling too tight.

Fuck.

He groans, hips thrusting of their own accord and feeling Tobirama's own erection through the fabric.

Madara makes an immense effort to pull away, stifling a whine at the loss of contact.

“Bed,” he says, mortified at his own crudeness far too late after the word comes out. “Fuck, I meantー”

“Yes,” Tobirama growls, capturing Madara’s lips in another open-mouthed kiss before he hauls him up to start gathering their things. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours? Izuna,” Madara rasps, head too clouded to explain more in-depth, but Tobirama seems to understand.

“Anija shouldn’t be back for a while,” Tobirama says, a devastating grin on his face, “lots of time for us to play.”

Gods.

Madara scrambles to his feet fast enough to stumble, and for once, Tobirama has nothing to say about his clumsiness.

They all but crash through the front door, not even bothering to lock it as they rush through a cursory check to make sure Hashirama is out like he said he’d be.

“Fuck, thank the gods,” Tobirama sighs in relief before dragging Madara back into liplock.

Madara can’t hold back a moan this time, heat ratcheting up between them as he wraps his hands around Tobirama’s neck, pulling him closer as they stumble to the couch. Madara ends up straddling him just so that their cocks brush through too-rough clothing, kiss growing urgent and sloppy, as wandering hands touching every inch of uncovered skin.

Clothes fall away, leaving them both shirtless, and Madara needs a few moments to take in the miles of pale skin, so soft to the touch, toned muscles rippling as Tobirama squirms under him, gasps and groans escaping his lips in answer to every one of Madara’s touches. He leans in to mouth Tobirama’s neck, sucking bruising kisses onto the soft skin there pleasure flaring at the base of his stomach each time Tobirama moans and arches against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” Madara whispers, with a hint of incredulity. “That’s... fuck.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama rasps, eyes unfocused, “because... just get on with it.”

“If I knew this is what it took to finally get you to shut up,” Madara chuckles, “I would have tried this a long time ago.”

If he weren’t so sure Tobirama genuinely despised him. Butー

“I fucking wished you would!” Tobirama snaps, though the irritation rings hollow with the breathless tone.

Madara blinks in shock.

“You did?” Madara asks, moving lower to lap at Tobirama’s nipple, sucking the hardened nub into his mouth and eliciting another delicious whimper. “You thought about this? About my hands on you, touching you?”

“Yes!” The desperation in his tone only adds to Madara’s mounting confidence, one that he so rarely ever feels in Tobirama’s presence.

“My mouth on your cock,” he continues, heart hammering against his ribs as he trails kisses lower and lower, “would you like that? While I finger you, getting you ready to take me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tobirama’s hips jerk, making them both moan at the friction.

“Off,” Madara grunts, tugging at Tobirama’s pants with one hand as the other works the belt off his own. They scramble, a bit awkwardly, until they’re both naked and sprawled on top of each other, and Madara all but drools at the sight of Tobirama’s cock, hard and straining, beads of precum already leaking from the tip.

Perfect.

It’s tempting to just let go but Madara decides to take his time. Strokes Tobirama’s sides and chest, fingers his nipples, kisses every inch of skin he can reach, sucking bruises and biting slightly. He marvels at every little keen and groan he wrings from Tobirama, relishing how needy he grows with each second, how he moans Madara’s name, curses him and urges Madara to touch him, sliding his dick against his and huffing when Madara doesn’t do anything about it, before finally devolving into pleading.

Just what Madara’s been waiting for.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama’s whines, a soft, desperate sound that makes Madara groan in turn.

“Please what?” he asks, knowing he’s being a tease and enjoying the hell out of it.

Tobirama musters a pretty non-intimidating glare. “Just... fuck.”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” Madara raises an eyebrow, making sure to wet his lips, letting his tongue gently graze the head of Tobirama’s cock. “I can bottom. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck!” Tobirama squeezes his eyes shut, heavy breathing interspersed with desperate whines. “Just... suck me off. Please. Now.”

“That’s it, Tobirama,” Madara drags out the syllables of his name, a smirk tugging at his lips, “when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He wraps his lipsーfinallyーaround the head, licking at the salty fluid gathered there, ears ringing from the heady feel of Tobirama’s cock against his mouth, his hands tangling in Madara’s hair, the sounds slipping from Tobirama’s lips that are borderline fucking obscene. Madara takes a breath to brace himself and takes Tobirama a few inches deeper. His length is hot, stiff, and heavy in his mouth as Madara presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, sucking hard, wringing another delectable whimper. Tobirama’s thrusts up, cock hitting the back of his throat, and Madara chokes for a moment, his own dick jerking at the sensation.

“Madara,” Tobirama breathes, “Madara, gods, you feel amazing.”

The words send another rush of pleasure through him, and Madara takes himself in hand to release some of the unbearable tension, stroking himself slowly as he relaxes his throat and sinks down to take Tobirama to the base.

Tobirama’s moan is a sweet, drawn-out melody. One that Madara enjoys making louder and louder as he starts moving, setting a fast-paced rhythm, uncaring for how debauched he may look, drool leaking out of his mouth and coating Tobirama’s cock, throat constricting around it as he takes him deep, lets him stay there, tongue gliding along his shaft. Tobirama soon devolves into barely coherent pleading, until ‘please’, and ‘more’, and Madara’s name are the only words coming out of his mouth.

It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming, far too much. Madara gives up stroking himself, the pleasure ramping up far too quickly, too soon, though Tobirama isn’t doing much better. Madara draws his lips up along his length, lapping up more precum gathered at the head, even as Tobirama’s hips jerk again and the hand in Madara’s hair tightens, urging him back down.

“Madara, please,” Tobirama keens, “I need...”

Madara has a pretty good idea of what he needs. He swirls his tongue over the head, descending again until his nose is pressed against Tobirama’s stomach. Madara swallows around him once, twice, a third time before he feels Tobirama nudging at his shoulder in a warning he doesn’t pay heed to, starting to bob his head again, wrapping his fingers around the base of Tobirama’s cock, using both his mouth and hand to bring him to completion.

“Fuck, Madara, Iー”

Madara lets out a muffled groan once he feels cum spilling against his tongue, swallowing rapidly as Tobirama’s cock pulses, again and again, through an orgasm that has him writhing and and trembling underneath him, hands tightening in Madara’s hair enough to hurt with the kind of tantalizing pain that only adds to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tobirama pants, watching Madara through white lashes, eyes dark and hazy as another shudder runs through him, “fuckーI want...”

Madara releases him with a wet pop. “Want what, Tobirama?” he whispers, voice too hoarse for him to speak properly.

Tobirama grips his shoulders in lieu of an answer, directing Madara to turn around so his back is pressed against his chest.

Then Tobirama’s hand wraps around his cock andーoh.

Madara has pretty much forgotten about his own pleasure, too focused on not coming too soon and making sure Tobirama was enjoying himself.

“My turn,” Tobirama murmurs against his ear, tone still breathless but with a commanding edge to it now that makes Madara shiver, “and lemmeーlet me hear you, Madara.”

Gods. He groans just from the sound of Tobirama’s voice. The feel of his teeth nibbling at his earlobe, his hand setting a quick, harsh rhythm that builds up the pleasure to impossible degrees. Tobirama’s heated skin pressed against his back, his thighs, the fingers of his other hand carding through his hair with a gentleness that contrasts with his harshness before.

It’s too much.

“Go on, Madara.”

Tobirama’s fingers swiping at the precome gathering at the head of Madara’s cock, smearing it over his shaft. His voice, a muffled whisper coaxing Madara to let go, to come for him, to say Tobirama’s nameー

“Just like that, Madara,” Tobirama grunts, “louder for me, come on.”

Madara thrusts into his grip, all but fucking into Tobirama’s fist at this point, moans his name as the heat grows unbearable the closer he gets to release.

“To-bi-rama...” He comes with a broken groan slipping from his lips as cum spills all over his stomach and Tobirama’s hand, each pulse coming stronger than the last, leaving him dizzy and boneless in Tobirama’s arms for however long it takes for his orgasm to abate.

Feels like forever. Probably a lot less. Time does seem to slow down, though, both of them collapsing against each other onto the cushions, breathing raggedly and curling into each other as Madara turns to bury his head in the crook of Tobirama’s neck.

It still seems unreal. Too perfect. So right.

They lie there for a minutes, coming down from the high, limbs tangled and lazy kisses exchanged here and there. Tobirama looks so peaceful, like Madara’s never seen him before: eyes half-lidded, hair messier than ever, sticking in every direction, skin still flushed and marked, all over, with hickeys and teeth marks, the mere sight of which has Madara’s dick stirring in interest, recent orgasm or no.

“You know,” Madara says, hands running over Tobirama’s chest, barely grazing his still sensitive nipples and making him shiver, “if this is the game you want to play, I’m really not against binging it. The rest of the dayーweekend, if you want.” Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s neck. “Make the playthrough as thorough as possible.” To his collarbone. “Unlock all achievements and, uh,” Madara trails his hand along Tobirama’s chest to his groin, past his length and to his ass, "explore every location.”

“If that was some thinly veiled euphemism,” Tobirama says, barely holding in laughter, “for you wanting to fuck me sideways...” Madara holds Tobirama’s gaze as his fingers hover just over Tobirama’s hole. “Then Madara, for fuck’s sake, stop trying to be subtle and get to work.”

Madara barks out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Tobirama.”

Madara dips his voice low and deep, like he’s noticed Tobirama loves, and relishes the whimper it earns him. Relishes the way Tobirama arches against him, looking for friction, how delectable he looks, ready and responsive, so eager for Madara’s touch.

He knows then and there that if it’s up to him, Madara will do anything to make this last.

#madatobi #tobimada #modern au #youtuber au #lou writes #idiots in love #madara is in denial (and thirsting)#tobirama is laughing (and equally thirsting) from the sidelines #fluff and smut #humor #meow

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kururuyakku · 3 years

Text

little update on myself

hey guys, i never thought id post this here ever again but. hey. i want to give an update on myself since once in a while i get DMs asking what happened and ive updated on my twitter but not here. its under a read more because theres... few triggers.

first if you have question here’s a rundown

so, shit happened. thats the simple way to add it. on what happened on tumblr i wont go into it again because it was honestly so fucking stupid, but here’s the rundown: no, i dont ship pedophilia. i was AGAINST the ship, but someone cropped a comment where someone was wrongly explaining the ship to me, and people jumped at my throat from it. i never shipped it and spoke against the ship. no im not a terf for not wanting to have sex with someone, and sending me rape threats about it and shaming me for it is just rape culture, and it was disgusting of those who did it. shame on you. i’m not white, and all those racist ass anons y’all sent won’t change it. yes, I have black alters, i have alters of different races, and when I provided MANY legit sources yall just said ‘’im not reading that’’, as well as completely ignoring other people with DID who tried to explain. so that was straight up ableism. again, shame on you. (also this post from my friend that explains well too)

now, outside of these things, more shit still happened which im not proud of. but these things won’t be any more public than it has already been, because honestly, it’s nobody’s business but those involved and I already made a mistake by publicly attacking the person involved. so it’s all i’ll say on the matter because again, nobody’s business but those involved and i don’t want to turn my life into a reality TV more than it already became.

my friends and i, now for years, have been accused of pedophilia, grooming, and being predators. Now, yes, some of us/my friends have done wrong things, and we’ve/they’ve apologized for it, but pedophilia and grooming was not part of it. They have NO PROOF PROVIDED, their story never follow each others, and some claimed to be victims despite never having been in direct contact with my friends at all. we have a whole document that we spent weeks making in our defense with visual proof and statements from witnesses.

my abusive, compulsive liar, two-faced, cheating asshole of an ex is now spreading this mess and calling me a predator, and a danger to minor, and completely ruined my dream of wanting to write a children’s book, all because I defended people wrongly accused of pedophilia. I got trauma from the whole thing, even developed two new alters, went back into therapy, because I was harassed so badly from it, got many death threats every day, rape threats, said im a danger to my niece and my nephew, and was stalked and harassed on every platforms. i couldn’t hide, they would find them. we couldn’t block, they would message us on other accounts and tell us to die.

enough is enough. we went through self-harm and suicide attempts because of this shit. went to the hospital. brought to the cops and we’re heavily talking of a lawsuit, but we’re waiting until our friend is mentally stable enough and recovers properly. i truly, genuinely cannot do this shit anymore. im tired of being followed everywhere and having everything i do being watched, tired of crying when i think of my sister’s children, tired of my life being ruined over false accusations.

i know im not the best person in the world. i know ive done some mistake, but im owning up to them. im trying to be better every single day and im just trying to survive another night. but these days, internet culture is just too toxic for me as i battle through the revival of my BPD and crippling depression.

so, please, leave me alone. leave us alone. we’re tired, and i cant bear seeing my friends go through another suicide attempt or, god fucking forbids, make it work. we’re tired. we just want to draw and have fun. stop with the goddamn harassments, stop calling us predators, stop the witchhunting that goes through social medias. leave us alone. im so fucking tired of fighting back.

ive suffered through rape threats, death threats and massive stalking that gave me massive trauma and caused two new alters. im terrified just posting this but i need to. im scared just commenting on my mom’s post on facebook because what if someone finds me there. im shaking when i hit ‘post’ when i try to be brave just a little and post my art to try and get back out there despite my name being dragged through the mud. im scared whenever i have a notification somewhere. i want to be okay again.

if youve read this, thank you. if youre a friend of mine, and youve stuck with me through this entire mess, thank you even more. maybe one day i’ll be okay enough to be out there again without being terrified for my life.

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 5 years

Text

Grateful

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Story with smut, M/F/M, no stucky. Oral sex. OVER 18 ONLY

A/N: 4K Commission for: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester

Summary: You are feeling inadequate in your relationship with Steve and Bucky.

The coffee shop was busy as you navigated through the small afternoon crowd to get to the display of muffins, stomach growling for something blueberry or chocolate- maybe both if they did that. You reached the display and bent down, eyes beckoning back and forth between the blueberry and chocolate chips. Deciding it was a self love day, you opted for both and wait your turn patiently in line. It smelled like brewing coffee and baking goods, and when your turn was up, your cell phone started to ring. Quickly, you ordered the two muffins and coffee, before handing over your debit card and scrambling to pick it up.

It was Bucky and you smiled as you said hello. “Did you guys just get back?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, he sounded a bit tired but his voice warm.

“You sound tired, are you headed to the apartment?”

After a quick briefing with the team he said. He mentioned picking up take out on his way home and when you asked if Steve was around, he handed over the cell to his friend. Steve’s voice was warm and steady, he asked how you were and if you missed him. The café had become loud and you tried to whisper that you did, but he said he could not hear you and you laughed.

“Of course, I missed you, I always miss the two of you.”

“Good, we’ll be home soon,” he promised, excusing himself. “The meeting is started, see you soon, honey.”

The two of you hung up just in time for your order to be called – leaving a tip, you gathered the coffee and bag of muffins, claiming a spot at a table near the large bay windows. The weather was becoming warmer, summer was just around the corner and the thought of less layering made you sad; you loved the jackets and scarves, not to mention Bucky and Steve both looked great in wool winter coats. Bucky in a black one, while Steve opted for a dark blue coat.

Relaxing in the seat, you took a sip from the coffee and eased into your daily social media feed, scrolling through photos and alternating between the blueberry and chocolate muffins. Nothing out of the ordinary, except you had been tagged in a photo by Steve, who had posted it this morning. Clicking on the notification, you saw that he had taken an aerial photo of the city, must have been from the quinjet. You were tagged in the corner of the photo and the captioned read: Finally coming home to my girl.

It was sweet and it made you smile, Steve was such a romantic and your relationship with him was public – the thing the public did not know, and only the people close to you did, was that Bucky was also in the mix. It had happened organically over a course of two years, it started off as mutual friendship after you were hired to work with the Avengers on PR stuff and media control. You had to conduct interviews with each of the members to get a feel of their character, Steve was a bit apprehensive at first but the two of you hit it off rather quickly. You had a pretty easy-going sense of humor and Steve could not resist but Bucky on the other hand was a different story.

He was stoic and shy, so you asked him to meet you outside the facility for the interview – you picked a stop near the lake and just talked to him, mostly asking one layer questions until he opened up more and things started to meld after that. The two men sought your company, especially since you practically lived at the facility – damage control was a constant need, but slowly you turned into almost like an assistant to the Avengers. You helped them normalize their lives, they were superheroes, but the media acted like they were celebrities – gossip and tabloids were constantly coming up with stories about them that were untrue. It was your job to paint them in a colorful light – not that that was hard.

Enjoying your muffin, you clicked on the comments and smiled at all the positive greetings, welcoming Steve back to the city, but the further you scrolled down, it seemed the more negative. Just like a celebrity, huh? The good and bad things people will say, Steve had tough skin, but you did not. There were mountains of comments on how Steve could do way better which you could only assume was from people who had clicked on your profile – it was private, but your profile photo still showed. It was a typical posing photo taken outside a bar Steve, Bucky and you frequent. Bucky had taken it and told you to pose with your hand so your hip, you did, and he liked it so much he had a wallet size print of it on the dashboard of his car – the man adored you.

Yet, people were cruel and you were dating two gorgeous men (although they only knew about one of them), and people were quick to point out all your flaws; you were not skinny enough, tall enough and did not live up to the male gaze standard society pushed. It hurt, even though you wish it had not.

Sighing, you closed the app and tried to focus on the two muffins waiting to be consumed – except now, you were not feeling so hungry. Gazing around the café, you could not stop from comparing yourself to all the women walking around. Feeling insecure, and hating it, you quickly packed up and left – hailing a cab back to the apartment.

When you got home, the apartment was quiet; it was a two bedroom layout that was nestled in the middle of Brooklyn – a place you found to help Steve and Bucky feel at home, and also a place for the three of you to escape from the facility. Most nights the three of you shared a bed but occasionally Bucky would become sleepless and have nightmares, so he requested his own room for those times. But ever since friendship turned into something more, those nightmares were few and far.

“Parker,” you cooed out, closing the door behind as you walked into the apartment – it was quiet until you heard the pitter pattering of small paws on the wood. It was Parker, the orange cat Bucky and you adopted. Steve was more of a dog person, but it did not take much convincing once Parker was home.

“Hey, buddy.”

You kneeled and started to pet him, ignoring the buzzing on your cell – the whole cab ride home you were getting tagged in photos that paparazzi had taken of Steve and you over the last year. Again, superheroes were treated like celebrities and were followed around, even when they were trying to be normal – therefore you understood why Bucky stayed out of the public. Steve, well, everyone knew who he was in and out of the suit – so he learned to tolerate the photo stalking, although he was known to give a stern look here and there.

“Come, Parker, let’s get you some food.”

The cat followed you to the kitchen and meowed as you took out his food, following you to his food dish. As you fed him, your cell buzzed again, so you gave in and walked over to the kitchen counter. It was a text from Bucky, saying the meeting was running later than he anticipated and the two would be home soon with food. You wanted to reply but you had an itch to go back on Instagram, so you did.

Boy, you wish you hadn’t.

Twenty minutes later, you were on the couch in the living scrolling through countless photos of Steve and you, and a few of Bucky. There were posts dedicated to the notion that Steve Rogers aka Captain America would ever date someone like you – someone who was short and curvy (not that false curvy that was just ass and boobs). You were not a Victoria's Secret model, let’s just put it that way and while you were perfectly fine with your body, people could be hurtful with their words. Especially when they could hide behind a screen.

There was a photo in particular that someone had taken of Bucky and you in a coffee shop, the two of you lingering near a window somewhere in Brooklyn – he was smiling at you, the one he often saved for you, real sincere and quiet, if a smile could be quiet. You were holding a coffee and smiling right back at him, and the comments were cruel.

He must be faking that smile; he has to put up with his teammate’s girlfriend.

She’s basic AF

HOW IS THIS CAP’S GF??

You remembered that day, it had been the first time in weeks that Bucky had decided to venture outside the block of your apartment. He asked if you would occupancy him to get some coffee and Steve urged you to go, kissing you goodbye on the forehead as he held Parker in his arms. That day, Buck dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, black glove on his left hand. He quietly pointed out places he knew back when he was a kid, noting how much things had and hadn’t changed. You listened contently and when you were inside the café, he told you he loved you – it was the first time he had said it since the three of you all moved in together and he mentioned how much he wanted to kiss you but what would the world think about him kissing Captain America’s girl?

“I’m your girl too, James.”

He smiled then and you smiled back at him, then he noticed a woman taking a photo from outside the café window.

You sat up on the couch and glared at the screen in your hand – Steve always said not to get carried away with the negativity and even offered to take down his social media. A part of you wanted him to, but you knew it made him feel connected to the world, so you said it was okay. Turning off the cell, you placed it on the coffee table adjacent to the couch and laid down. Your hand ran over your stomach, poking at the pockets of fat under your shirt and sighed thinking about how perfect Bucky and Steve’s bodies were – perfectly sculptured works of art. It made you feel unworthy and you didn’t like that feeling, so you decided to just sleep until two arrived.

…

“She’s not answering my texts, maybe she fell asleep.”

“Natasha just texted me, she’s been fighting with people on your photo again.”

Steve frowned and searched for his cell, Bucky watching as they waited for the elevator door to open. The latter was holding take out from the Chinese place you loved so much while Steve’s eyebrows scrunched as he read over what was happening on his last post.

“What the hell is wrong with people, Buck?”

“They’ve always been the same, nothing’s changed much, has it?”

Steve sighed and followed Bucky into the elevator, and when the doors closed, he looked over to his best friend. “I hate bullies.”

Parker met the pair in the small foyer of their apartment, the cat purred and rubbed against each of their leg before Bucky picked him up and followed Steve further into the apartment. They saw you sleeping on the couch, Steve sat on the coffee table and picked up your cell when it began to buzz. Bucky gave him a look as he tapped on the Instagram notification and saw that you were being tagged in awful posts. It made him angry and Bucky didn’t have to look to understand, instead he walked around the couch to you and sat on the edge, effortlessly shifting your body. He reached down to touch your face and he smiled, looking at Steve.

“It’s good to be home.”

Steve grinned. “Especially when we have her to come home to. I got to say Buck, ever since we made the move in with her, things have never felt better.”

“Agreed.”

Bucky looked down at you, Parker still in his arms, and leaned forward to kiss your cheek, his lips on your skin stirred you awake. You jumped up in surprise. He grinned as you brushed back the hair from his face and looked over to Steve.

“You’re back!”

Parker jumped out of Bucky’s arms into yours and he nestled on top of your lap, purring as you petted his back. Steve asked if you were hungry and mentioned the takeout he left in the kitchen, you said no and the two exchanged glances. Steve held up your cell and apologized for tagging you in the photo.

“I should have known better; people tend to show their worst online.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, you shouldn’t have to worry about this.”

Bucky reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. He reminded you that people didn’t know your life and that at the end of the day, it only mattered what you thought of yourself – and a little of what Steve and he thought, he said jokingly. It made you smile, his sweetness but your brain hyper focused on the result of reading all those comments – no one thought you were good enough for Steve or Bucky. No one. Both men sensed that your smile and assurance that you were fine was false, so they exchanged a knowing glance.

“You brought food, yes? I’m hungry.”

“In due time,” Steve answered, taking Parker from your lap.

You eyed him and asked what he meant, but Bucky gently grabbed you by the chin, forcing your gaze to move to him. Steve’s footsteps were heard going down the hall, and you wondered where he had gone until Bucky kissed you gently on the lips. His lips caught you by surprise, but you melted back into the couch as he pushed you down, his body hovered over yours. You could not help but groan when his tongue played against yours and his hand moved to caress the side of your face – Bucky’s reputation as the Winter Soldier was the opposite of his ways of being a lover. He was gentle and tended to your needs before his own.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered into your ear, giving the edge of your lobe a loving nip. You groaned again, gripping his shoulder with both hands as his lips moved from your ear down to your neck, where he pressed little kisses until you grasped in pleasure. “That’s my girl.”

“She’s both our girl, Buck.” Steve appeared in the room, now dressed in gray sweats and nothing else. Bucky stopped his kissing and got up from the couch, saying something about putting the takeout in the oven to keep warm. You sat up and regained your breath as Steve sat next to you on the couch – his smile was boyish, but his body was one of a man. Your eyes never could help but take him in every time he walked into a room and it always surprised you when you were the one he was walking too.

“People have nothing better to do than break down those they have no reach to.”

“Wise words, Rogers. How did you get so smart?”

He shrugged, using his arm to pull you into his side. His fingers pressed into the side of your arm and he held you tight against his body. Your throat clenched with the feel of his skin and before you could even say something smart and witty, he had you on his lap. He was fast, like that, could have you coming in seconds if he really wanted to. Mostly, he liked to take his time.

You looked down at him, his head dipped back against the couch. His blue eyes were staring up at you, like a shy schoolboy. Touching the side of his face, you asked how you got so lucky. He shook his head and kissed your hand, placing it on his bare chest.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Bring yourself down, it hurts me to hear those things from you.”

“I won’t say them anymore.”

That’s not what he meant, but he knew no matter what he or Bucky said, they needed to show you how much they love you. So, he adjusted you on his lap, your knees nestled into the cushion of the sofa. Both his hands went down to your waist and he called out to Bucky, who walked into the living room. Your heart pounded as he made his way to the couch, settling down next to his friend; his smile made you smile.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, his eyes softening with your words. He wanted you to know how special he felt when you gifted him with those words, with the light you brought into his life.

“I love you,” he mused back.

“We both love you.”

Steve pulled you down to his and kissed you passionately, his hands on your face. He whispered that you were the only one for him and no one could take that away. You felt his truth in his kisses and then you felt him hard under you, which excited you. But then he stopped kissing you, your eyes still closed when you felt Bucky pull you down to him. Your eyes opened to Bucky’s, who pulled you over his body, your back against his chest.

“We’re going to show you how much we love you,” he whispered, his fingers dancing down the front of your stomach to the waistband of the joggers you were waiting. The excitement made your toes warm as he tugged at the strings, loosening them up a bit. Steve watched as Bucky’s hand disappeared under the pants and you moaned quietly when his fingers made their way under your underwear. He touched you slowly at first, hungrily pawning at you until Steve stood up and eagerly pushed away the coffee table away from the couch. He positioned himself on the floor, kneeling in front of the couch. Bucky spread his legs, using his hands to do the same to yours after Steve pulled off your sweats and panties.

The cool air made you shudder until Steve placed both his palm on top of your thighs, as Bucky kissed your neck and his hands roamed under your shirt to your breasts. His touch was a bit rough as he pushed aside the top of your bra to get to your nipples, pinching them slightly. Your hips jerked up but you weren’t sure if it was because of Bucky or the fact that Steve’s head was now buried between your thighs, his mouth on you. It was probably both.

You moaned loudly and wiggled under Steve’s mouth, the feeling of his tongue licking you gave way to wanting him to stop and wanting him to never stop – it was so intense it almost hurt as you cried out. Your head rested against Bucky’s chest as his hold on your breast tightened. There was no control when you were with them, it was almost unfair but that thought always drifted away with every touch of their mouths and hands.

“We love you,” Bucky whispered, his teeth pulled at your earlobe and you whimpered. “You’re the only one we want, right Steve?”

He didn’t verbally answer, but his tongue lapped faster at your clit and that was enough to speak more than volumes. You called out both their names and the two men worked faster, Bucky nibbling on your neck and Steve including his fingers in the quest to finish you off. It was insanely disorienting, but that’s what their love felt to you – two large forces constantly circling you, protecting you and more often than not, guiding you to a level of happiness you could have never imagined. You loved them deeply and profoundly, it felt implicitly wrong at times, for them to feel the same way.

Yet, here they were – after a long mission and weeks of preparation for said mission. They had come home, to relax and have some form of normalcy to find you in need of comfort, and they do so without hesitation or complaint. They do it because they simply love you and had for a while now. They do what needs to be done, so you can feel love because nothing could ever be enough to show you the gratitude both felt. Gratitude towards you for choosing them both, for seeing that they needed you more than you needed them and for making space in your heart for the both of them.

“Come one, sweetheart,” Steve purred and lifted you from under, your ass in his hands as he dug deeper with his tongue, his whole mouth on you. Moaning, you felt the intensity fire up, burning away all the negative comments and remarks, the ugly thoughts and feelings of unworthiness of being the lover of Captain America and the Winter Soldier, because that wasn’t it. You were the lover of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, two guys from Brooklyn, who had kind hearts and even kinder souls. You were more than worthy of that title and no amount of hateful remarks could ever change that – you saw that now.

“I – I’m…”

The rest of the sentence disappeared into the air as the pair moved faster to satisfy you, knowing the way you loved to be touch and with that knowledge, the life time friends brought you to the edge then swiftly and delicately, pushed you off.

Your body shook uncontrollably, the air condition cooled your warm skin. Steve licked you a few times more before kissing the inside of both of your thighs. He sat back and rubbed at his chin; Bucky gave your breast a tender squeeze before releasing them. He kissed you on the cheek, removed his hands from under your shirt and pulled it down.

No words formed from your lips, so you were grateful when Bucky grabbed the throw blanket from the couch’s arm and covered your body half with it. He snuggled you against his chest, arms wrapped around your waist. Steve stood up and leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead, proclaiming he was thirsty. He disappeared into the kitchen and you smiled, body relaxed against Buck’s.

You glanced down at the coffee table and noticed that in his rush to get to you, Steve had broken the leg. “We’re going to need a new coffee table.”

Bucky chuckled. “Probably.”

Sliding off him, you laughed too and apologized for letting the social media comments get to you. “I’m the Avengers PR person, I should know better. I guess we’re all just human, mostly, anyway.”

He looked at you and smiled. “Mostly.”

“Who needs water?”

Steve walked into the living room with two glasses of water, he handed each of you one and said that the takeout was still warm, noting that he was hungry. You downed the water and asked him to pass over your discarded sweats. Putting them on, you cleared your throat and looked to both men.

“I just want to say that I’m going to really try to not let those comments bother me, it’s dumb and they don’t know our lives. You guys are right, and that’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard that in your life.”

They both laughed and you smiled, feeling better. “I just…I love you two very much and I don’t want my own negative thoughts get in the way nor do I want outside influences to mess up what we have. Agreed?”

Steve looked over to Bucky, who nodded. “Agreed.”

You clap your hands together and sighed in relief, announcing you were ready to eat. The two friends watched as you walked away from them, their eyes on you until you left the room. Bucky stretched against the couch and got up, patting Steve on the back.

“How the hell did we get this lucky, punk?”

Pure luck, that was the only answer Steve could come up with. At least, that was what he felt every time he walked into a room and saw you, and he was sure Bucky felt the same. Smiling, mostly to himself, Steve shrugged. “It beats me.”

Forever tags: Forever Tags:@theweirdlunatic @supernaturallymarvellous@dancewaterdance02@yeahbutmarvel @infinity1321 @my-amazing-nerdyness @naih-reedus @maciiiofficial@casownsmyass @jade-taillia @fangirlextraordinaire@indominusregina@feelmyroarrrr @my-rainbow-wonderland @myhopeisinfinite @girl-next-door-writes@melonberri@superisatomboyuniverse @dracsgirl@moonlight53 @makemyownwonderland@dreamwhisper87 @trekken81 @barely-emily @milkywaybarnes @goodnightwife @mishaissocoollike@foreverybodythatunderstands23@gallifreyansass@flirtswithdanger@myplaceofthingsilove @jchona @alyssaj23 @blackhoneybucky@urbanspacedecay @castieltrash1 @hannahsakorax3@imagine-all-the-imagines @motleymoose@distinguishedqueenofbooks @kitkatgaming@fizzylollipop12@iamwarrenspeace@darkmystress00 @lunarwolfrose @kapolisradomthoughts@sisinia13 @swiggityswagness @lianasparklezstuff@takemetoneverland91 @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @sarah-mos@rubynationwins @padfootorionblack @kaywolves @wonderlace19 @courtneychicken@rayleyanns @whatmakesmebeme-tblr @thewinterwitch

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#steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #marvel imagine #marvel

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rinnnyxr · 3 years

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About my day | Bold what is also true for you :

I woke up around 8AM.

I woke up without an alarm. I woke up nude.

I woke up and drank water immediately.

I checked my phone right when I woke up. I checked my TikTok notifications.

I checked my Facebook notifications.

I then checked my email.

I then went downstairs. I got dressed to go out.

I was in the passenger seat of the car today.

I wore a hat today.

I put concealer on.

I put foundation on.

I put on powder.

I used a beauty blender.

I didn’t brush my hair today.

I wore ugg boots.

I wore jeans.

I wore a zip-up.

I went out to breakfast.

I had 3 cups of coffee.

I had a glass of ice water.

I had pancakes.

I had a bagel.

^ with cream cheese.

I saw friends today.

I saw my boyfriend today.

I saw my goddaughter today.

I gave someone a hug.

I gave someone a kiss.

I pet a cat today.

I uploaded video.

I took a photo today.

I updated that photo to Instagram.

I’m currently listening to music. I’m currently on my laptop.

I’m currently in PJ’s. I’m currently surprisingly comfortable.

I took a shower.

I took a shower but not alone ;)

I have the heat on currently. I wore a bracelet today.

I wore a ring today.

I listened to the radio.

I listened to music on Apple Music.

I didn’t post a Facebook status today. I checked the fridge and saw nothing appetizing. I washed my face.

I used rose water spray on my face.

I used a face moisturizer.

I googled a celebrity. I had cheese and crackers.

I may take a nap soon.

I saw my mom today. I saw my sister today.

I thought about calling my dad today.

I’m not currently wearing socks.

I’m not alone in the room currently.

It’s windy out today. It hailed out today.

I’m really thirsty.

I’m too lazy to get up and get myself a drink right now.

I paid for something with cash today.

I thought about cleaning my room but didn’t…

I listened to God’s Plan by Drake today.

I didn’t blow-dry my hair today. I’m gonna play video games soon.

I’m going to take some more surveys after this. I drank something out of the carton today.

I’m not leaving the house for the rest of the day.

I can see my pet from where I am currently.

There is a TV to my right.

There are headphones to my left.

It’s Sunday today.

I have work tomorrow.

I got in a small argument today.

I told someone I loved them today.

1. had sex? 2. bought condoms? 3. gotten pregnant? 4. failed a class? 5. kissed a boy? 6. kissed a girl? 7. used a little paper bag for lunch? 8. had a job? 9. slipped on ice? 10. missed the school bus? 11. left the house without my wallet? 12. bullied someone on the internet? 13. sexted? 14. had sex in public? 15. played on a sports team? 16. smoked weed? 17. smoked cigarettes? 18. smoked a cigar? 19. drank alcohol? . 20. watched “The Breakfast Club”? 21. been overweight? 22. been underweight? 23. had an eating disorder? 24. been to a wedding? 25. made fun of someone for being fat? 26. been on the computer for 5 hours straight? 27. watched tv for 5 hours straight? 28. been late for work? 29. been late for school? 30. kissed in the rain? 31. showered with someone else? 32. failed my drivers test? 33. ran a mile in less than 10 minutes? 34. been outside my home country? 35. been on a road trip longer than 5 hours? 36. had lice? 37. gotten my heart broken? 38. had a credit card? 39. been to a professional sports game? 40. broken a bone? 41. been unhappy about my weight? 42. won a trophy? 43. cut myself? 44. had an STD? 45. got engaged? 46. been on a diet? 47. tried out to be on a tv show? 48. rode in a taxi? 49. been to prom? 50. played a drinking game? 51. stayed up for 24 hours or more? 52. been to a concert? 53. had a three-some? 54. had a crush on someone of the same sex? 55. been in a car accident? 56. had braces? 57. learned another language? 58. killed an animal? 59. been at a yard sale? 60. been to a Japanese steakhouse? 61. wore make up? 62. talked to someone via webcam? 63. lost my virginity before I was 16? 64. had my wisdom teeth taken out? 65. kissed someone a different race than myself? 66. snuck out of the house? 67. bought porn? 68. had a virus on my computer? 69. had oral sex? 70. dyed my hair? 71. gone skinny dipping? 72. graduated from college? 73. wore someone else’s clothes? 74. voted in a presidential election? 75. rode in an ambulance? 76. rode in a helicopter? 77. caught the stove on fire? 78. got in a verbal fight? 79. met someone famous? 80. been on vacation? 81. been on a boat? 82. been on an airplane? 83. broken something expensive? 84. had surgery? 85. kissed someone before I was 14? 86. beat a video game? 87. found something valuable on the ground? 88. made a survey? 89. stalked someone on a social network? 90. prank called someone? 91. spent over $100 shopping in one day? 92. been to a library outside of school? 93. cut my hair and hated it? 94. peed outside? 95. went fishing? 96. helped with charity? 97. taken a pregnancy test? 98. been rejected by a crush? 99. been suspended from school? 100.broken a mirror?

2008 was a horrible year for me. Actually, it was the best. I’ve been on a cruise before. I like chemistry more than biology. I like taking surveys more than making them. I absolutely despise the color pink. I don’t have a significant other. I get all four seasons where I live. I only shop when I absolutely have the need to. I have an older brother. I have my driver’s license. I don’t want to have kids someday. I wear more jeans than skirts. I’d rather wear sneakers than high heels. I don’t go to church. I don’t like having my fringe in my face. I’m very much into heavy metal music. I own like, a hundred hoodies. I couldn’t draw to save my life. I’m a very good cook. I always have to look at the keyboard when I type. I’ve had surgery before. I don’t mind getting shots all that much. I’m not afraid of bugs. I love hot, hot weather! I have huge eyes and long lashes. I’m naturally very pale. I’m usually not very picky at all when it comes to food. My parents are divorced. I don’t like doing surveys, but I find myself doing them anyway. I’m addicted to Tumblr. I don’t have a Facebook account. I have perfect vision and don’t need glasses or contacts. I don’t wear makeup when I go out. I hate stores like Forever 21. I’m very much into sports. I don’t see what the big deal about photography is. Or fashion design. I don’t really appreciate art that much. Horror movies are my favorite. I don’t care if people cut in line in front of me. I don’t even remember the last time I put on a piece of jewelry. My hair is naturally straight. I support gay marriage. I have more friends online than I do in real life. My siblings are all older than I am. My significant other is younger than I am. I curse in almost every sentence I speak. I always get straight A’s in exams. I don’t know how to play any instrument. I only know how to speak one language. I don’t have my own personal blog. I’m allergic to something. I’ve been stung by a bee at least once in my life. This is the last survey I’m doing today. I have seen someone propose in public before. And they got rejected, poor bloke. I wonder if I will ever get proposed in public. Heck I don’t even know if I’ll ever get married. I know what a sake bomb is. I’ve tried it before. I’ve watched ‘Paris Hilton’s My New BFF’. ^ Ew, sad much? I think Paris Hilton is a brainless bitch. I celebrate Chinese New Year. I’m not Chinese or a tiny bit Asian at all. I have a step-sibling. I have a weak tolerance of alcohol. Are you kidding me? I can drink all night long! I want a new cell phone. I have my own bathroom. I sleep on a single bed. Nah, I have a King/Queen size bed! I think one night stands are no biggie. ^ Slut ^Prude I’ve been on a helicopter before. I’m actually afraid of heights. My date rented a limo to take me to prom. Pfft, I wish I had a date. I haven’t had my prom yet. I like clicking on advertisements. Pop-up ads are so old school. I recently took a bath. I never bother, I just take showers. My Christmas holidays were the bomb! Ugh, mine sucked like hell. I’d love to go to Japan one day. I’ve seen a ghost before. ^ I’d pee in my pants if I did. ^ No, I’d run and scream. I can write lyrics! I can, but I’m not very good at it. I would like to become a musician one day. I love finding things in sofa cracks. I know someone that’s trying very hard to fit in a stereotype. Every cup of water I drink equals to a trip to the toilet. I recently received my exam results. They were quite good! Nope, failed it all. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday today. He never gives me gifts. He buries me with them. I wish I had a boyfriend that actually spends money on me! I love him very much. The Beatles rock my world. Actually, a lot of classic rock bands rock my world. It takes me a really long while to get to sleep. I’m a personality quiz fiend. I am and have always been a night owl. I love reading Sarah Dessen books. My earphones are in my ears practically 24/7. I am an only child and that’s not because of any death. I hate school and everything else connected to it. I’ve never been in any romantic relationship. I have a lot of favorite names. And I plan to use those names on my kids. I’m reading a comic book right now. I’m listening to music right now. I memorize lyrics really easily. But memorizing stuff for school isn’t easy at all. Math is my worst enemy. I love bolding surveys. Nice and easy. I pick Guitar Hero over Rock Band. I really don’t mind being all alone.

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adolanables · 5 years

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INFLUENCED - Part 2 (G.D)

PART 2

“So what was Grayson Dolan talking to you about last night?” Charlotte questioned, the two of you on opposite ends of the dark gray couch you shared.

“Oh, ya know…” You tried to ignore the topic, digging your spoon into your pint of Ben and Jerry’s and turning your attention back to Carrie Bradshaw giving some killer advice on the tv.

“Shut the fuck up,” She chucked a pillow at your head and rolled her eyes. “Apparently he doesn’t talk to ANYONE, Y/N. What did he say to you?”

“Well, we met at the party last weekend.” You shrugged, giving her a simple answer. “He was just saying hi - he noticed me down by the water.”

“You already met him and you didn’t tell me!?” She shrieked, setting her own ice cream down on the coffee table. “THE Dolan twins?!”

“Okay, to be fair I only met one of them.” You pointed your spoon at her. “And I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Charlotte shook her head at you, a small grin on her lips as she settled back into the couch. “It’s like you’re from another planet sometimes.”

Laughing at her comment, you couldn’t help but agree. Sometimes it did feel like that - you just didn’t understand some of the things normal 20 year olds got worked up about. As much as Charlotte claimed to be as against the influencer community as you were, you knew she loved it. Living here for a few years was getting to her - and most of your friends if you were being honest. It bothered you more when it first started happening, but it’s nearly impossible to avoid it at this point, so you’ve just learned to accept it.

A few minutes later, Charlotte decided to head to her room for the night and get some sleep. This was the second year the two of you were living together and you couldn’t complain. She was always there for you to pull you out of your hermit crab ways when it was most needed.

*one new text message* your phone buzzed on the table in front of you, your eyebrows furrowing as you saw an unsaved number

*still waiting for you to post the pic…^* the message pointed at the image above it in the message thread - the one Grayson had sent you last night. You smiled softly, shaking your head at yourself for forgetting to save his number.

You took a deep breath and opened Instagram and quickly uploaded the picture, just using the eyeroll emoji for your caption.

*there* you sent back to him. Rolling your eyes as you heard Charlotte scream your name from her bedroom, surely shocked that you had posted a photo.

*pretty… I liked your other caption better though* your phone lit up again, your heart fluttering slightly as you read the first word. Okay, what? Your heart fluttered? You gotta be kidding me.. You shook your head trying to rid any mushy thoughts from your brain.

*graysondolan commented on your photo* the notification popped up at the top of your phone, a feeling of dread shooting through your body for a moment. You were sure people stalked what this boy did on every social media app every second of the day.

*careful not to roll those eyes out of your head…* his comment read. Funny - you thought. You simply liked the comment and clicked to open your likes. Just two so far - Charlotte and Grayson.

The next week of classes was sort of overwhelming. Charlotte was constantly pestering you about Grayson - in absolute shock that he had not only followed you on Instagram, but had also commented on your photo - a photo he definitely took. It seemed as if the Dolan fandom was in just as much shock, trying desperately to figure out who you were. The flood of follower requests was so massive you finally gave in and just made your entire account public, not wanting to deal with blocking everyone.

On top of all of that, you had your first exam, You did okay on it, but okay wasn’t good enough at UCLA - you needed to do great. The rest of the week you beat yourself up, staying in your room at all times to study and do homework ahead of time so you would be able to enjoy your weekend. It was now Thursday evening and you were thanking the gods you didn’t have any Friday classes.

*new message from Grayson* your phone buzzed on your nightstand, pulling your attention away from your textbook. You were genuinely surprised. He hadn’t messaged you again since the quick convo you had about the Instagram post. Truly, you didn’t think too much of it. You weren’t one to obsess over texts or how long it took someone to respond to you.

*You busy?*

*Just finishing up some homework, why?* You sent back quickly, tapping your bare thigh with your index finger.

*I’m in the area… wanna chill?* His words made your stomach flip and you cursed under your breath once again at how excited you were.

*Sure. Do you want to come here or?*

*I’ll pick you up? Address?* He was texting you so fast you were sure he was sitting somewhere just waiting for you to respond.

You quickly typed him your address and threw your book off your lap, sprinting to your closet to pull on a pair of nike shorts and a crew neck. You tightened your ponytail, knowing you had no time to attempt to do anything with your hair. The thick-rimmed glasses sitting gently on your nose weren’t your favorite accessory, but they did a good job of - ya know - helping you see. On top of that, they covered the dark circles under your eyes you also had no time to cover.

Just as the doorbell to your small house rang, you slipped on a beat up pair of Vans and sprinted out of your room, hoping to get to the door before Charlotte. She popped her head out of her doorway and looked at you quizzically, “Wha-?”

“Can’t talk gotta go!” You waved at her, throwing the door open and hopping outside to slam it shut behind you.

“Well hello to you too.” Grayson chuckled at your chaotic entrance. You instantly wished you had taken a few more minutes on your appearance. He had on a long sleeve white t-shirt, a pair of pastel pink and white shorts with matching socks and white slides. His hair was pushed back away from his forehead again and he was looking down at you with a small smirk on his plump lips.

“Uh, hey.” You breathed, catching your breath from sprinting through the house. “Sorry, if Charlotte had answered the door she would’ve talked to you for three hours.” You smiled softly as he turned on his heel and headed down the sidewalk.

“I get it - were you done with your homework?” He glanced over his shoulder at you as the two of you headed towards his car.

“Basically.” You lied, your mouth dropping open slightly at the sight of the baby blue Porsche Grayson stepped up to, opening the door for you. Surely he noticed your awe, but you shuffled past him and sunk down into the luxury car. “Where are we going?”

“You got any ideas?” He smirked as he sat down in the drivers seat, his free hand starting the engine. You simply shook your head, adjusting your glasses on your nose. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.” You nodded, leaning back into the warm leather seat as he pulled out onto the road.

“Who gets a cheeseburger with no cheese?” You gawked at Grayson as he took a giant bite of his cheese-less In N Out burger.

“Dairy-free, people, duh, Y/N.” He muttered, chewing his burger.

“I just love cheese…” You whispered as you took a large bite out of your burger as well.

He smiled at you softly as you chewed, his eyes watching you intently. The two of you had grabbed In N Out and were now parked on some ledge behind a few trees. This would definitely be considered a make out spot - ya know, if you were into that kind of thing.

“So, Y/N.” Grayson swallowed the last bite of his burger and took a sip of his water. “What’s there to know about you?”

“Well.” You let out a deep breath and thought for a moment, your lips twisting as you tried to think of something. “I’m a comm major.. I want to be a sports reporter. Uhh, I grew up in Santa Barbara. I have three siblings… anything else?”

“Older or younger?” He readjusted in his seat, leaning his strong back against the door, his legs extending in front of him.

“Three younger. All under 6 - uh, my mom got remarried when my dad died.” You tossed your cheeseburger wrapper into the empty bag at your feet. “They all still live in Santa Barb-”

“Your dad died?” Grayson’s face was serious, his eyebrows furrowed together as he glanced up at you.

“Yeah when I was 14.” You titled your head at him, wondering why his demeanor had changed so suddenly.

“My dad died earlier this year.” He blurted out, his eyes glued to his hands in his lap.

“Oh, I’m so sor-”

“No, don’t apologize.” He shook his head at you, pulling himself from the slight emotional falter he had. “It’s just nice to meet someone who gets it… ya know?”

“Yeah… I do.” You nodded at him, tucking your knees to your chest in the seat and resting against the door to better face him.

The two of you sat there in his car for what felt like hours. Just talking about everything. You learned he had two siblings - his twin and an older sister. His mom and sister still lived back in New Jersey where they grew up. He was hopeful he would be able to make a place for them here where they felt like they could come all the time - he missed them both so much. He lived about thirty minutes away from you in Encino - he and his brother had just bought a new house there. You had questioned how he felt about YouTube and he told you he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have bad days. There were days where he just wanted to quit - wanted to go back to being normal. But he knew everything he had was because of his job and he wouldn’t want any other job.

He learned you had been a straight A student your entire high school career, getting a full-ride to UCLA. If you hadn’t gotten that, there was no way your family would’ve been able to afford to send you to college. He learned you didn’t get along very well with your step-dad, but you adored your three little brothers. That you’d go back to see them more often if you had a car to take instead of the train. That you were blind as a bat without your glasses or contacts, you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell he was a person without them. Your favorite color was red because it reminded you of blood which reminded you of life.That you’d never had a boyfriend - nope never. He asked why you had such a bad attitude towards his career. You’d explained that you’d always felt like the unfortunate kid growing up and moving somewhere where your looks and clout meant more than who you were made you start to hate the community. You never wanted anyone to like you because of what you were wearing or how many followers you had.

It was nearly 2AM when Grayson pulled back up in front of your small house, his tired eyes glancing over at you as you gathered your things. “Thanks for hanging out, Y/N.”

“Thanks for asking me to.” You smiled at him, tucking a piece of your hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear.

“Uh, do you maybe want to come to this thing we - Ethan and I - are having tomorrow?” He was nervous? “It won’t be that big, I swear - and NO filming allowed. It’s just this small house-warming thing.”

“Oh, um, sure - yeah.” You nodded at him, feeling a little more comfortable going knowing there wouldn’t be any cameras. “Can Charlotte come? I promise she’ll behave.” You assured him, laughing softly. “And she has a car, so it’ll make it easier.”

“Yeah, of course!” He smiled, nodding his head at your confirmation. “I’ll text you the address, yeah?”

You agreed, leaning into him as he reached over the console to give you a hug. It was a little awkward leaning over the large piece of plastic in between you, but the smell of his cologne lingering on his neck and the warmth exuding from his body made your stomach clench. He pulled away from you, his hand resting on your forearm as you looked up at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered, his eyes glued to yours. Jesus christ, you wanted him to kiss you so bad. The look in his eyes said he wanted to do the same, but neither of you moved. You broke the gaze, leaning down to pick up your keys and pushing the door open.

“Goodnight Grayson.” You grinned at him, waving over your back as you headed back into the house.

“We’re going WHERE?” Charlotte shrieked, her bowl of Cheerio’s flying across the kitchen.

“Oh my god, Charlotte!” You hissed, a laugh escaping your mouth as you watched her hurriedly clean up her mess. “You’re not going anywhere if you’re going to throw food!”

��Sheesh, Y/N - let a girl wake up first!” She gawked up at you. “Do you know who could BE there?”

“Uh?” You raised an eyebrow at her, taking a bite out of your bagel.

“Ugh, I see why he likes you.” She giggled, tossing the broken pieces of glass into the trash can. “Pretty college girl who has no idea who he is - he’s gonna fall in love. I give it a month.”

“Give what a month?” You rolled your eyes at her. “He does not like me like that.”

“Oh nothing, Y/N.” She smiled at you innocently. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh god, Charlotte - I don’t think I can do this.” You muttered to your best friend as she drove up the long driveway, the two of you being let in the gate by security.

“Yes you can, Y/N. I’ll stay by you this time, swear.” She assured you, her voice serious. She looked beautiful, her hair tossed up into an intricate up-do, dark makeup on her eyes and a small black cocktail dress on her body.

You sighed and leaned your head against the window, trying to relax. Charlotte had insisted you straighten your long hair, it fell down your back smoothly, covering up the cutout on the back of your dark red dress. It was simple, small straps, falling just above your knees. She had put a little makeup on you as well, and insisted you wore at least a small heel.

Grayson did tell you it would be dressier in his texts earlier - sending you the address and time. He said to get there at 7ish and that he would be in a suit, so to dress however she felt comfortable.

Charlotte parked her car behind a plethora of much nicer ones in the driveway. Her eyes widened as a bright pink Tesla came into view “If that is Jeffree Star I make no promises that I won’t shit myself.”

“Oh god, Charlotte.” You whined, burying your head in your hands.

“Y/N!” Grayson exclaimed, opening up the front door as the two of you walked up the driveway. “Charlotte - nice to formally meet you.” He grinned at your friend momentarily before looking back at you, his gaze tracing up and down your frame.

“Nice to meet you too.” Charlotte smiled back at him, stepping past him to let you have a few seconds alone.

“You look great, Y/N. Wow.” He smiled at you, his hand extended to you. His upper body was clad in a dark blue sport coat, the white of the button up made his teeth stand out. You took his hand and followed him inside the house, his hand falling from yours as soon as others came into view.

“Thank you, so do you.” You smiled back at him softly.

You followed Grayson through the long hallway into the main living area - the house was absolutely beautiful and for a moment you wondered how anyone could hate this life when they actually lived it. As you rounded the corner and saw the plethora of people hanging out on the modern gray couches, you remembered why you hated it. Grayson turned over his shoulder to look at you, his face falling slightly as he read your very obvious facial expression.

“Okay, there’s a few more people here than I led on…” He smirked at you, guiding you to sit down on the edge of the couch, he seemed to have caught Charlotte’s eye as she rushed over and accompanied you. “I’m going to go get you two some drinks - champagne okay?”

“Yes!” Charlotte spoke for both of you, knowing full well you were at a loss for words.”Y/N, you okay?”

“Uh - yeah… just-” You glanced around the room, taking in as many people as you could. Everyone was just absolutely stunning, you felt so out of place - like you definitely should not be there. “A lot of people.”

“Relax, Y/N.” Charlotte patted your knee encouragingly. “Grayson wanted you to be here, so you should be here.”

You nodded, sinking back into the plush couch while you waited for Grayson. Charlotte started blabbering about who she had met in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help but zone out for a few seconds. There were countless beautiful women surrounding you - tall, blonde, drop dead gorgeous. Why had you even thought for a second that Grayson could be interested in you? No, you weren’t ugly and you had a great body, but you were by no means a model and that is clearly the type of girl the Dolan twins kept in their company.

“Two champagnes.” Grayson handed two glasses to you and Charlotte, his signature grin back on his face. He took a seat on the ottoman across from you and knocked your knee with his. “Let me know when you’re drunk enough to meet some people.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at him as you chugged the glass of champagne. Charlotte giggled at you and shoved hers into your hand as well, knowing you needed it much more than she did.

Approximately five glasses of champagne later, you were feeling much more courageous. Grayson had offered you his arm to hold on to as he pranced you around the room introducing you to everyone. Honestly, a lot of the faces blurred together - you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that they all seemed to have the same surgeon. As the two of you approached Ethan, you felt your stomach clench with nervousness once again. You weren’t sure why, but you really wanted him to like you.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Y/N.” Ethan smiled at you, leaning in for a side hug as he shot his twin brother a look.

“Infamous?” You looked at Grayson curiously, his neck turning a bit red at the mention.

“I’m just kidding with ya.” Ethan quickly responded, not wanting to embarrass his brother any further. “It’s really great to meet you - I’m glad he convinced you to come.” He took a sip of his cup of what looked to be water. His hair was longer than Grayson’s, jaw a bit stronger as well. You couldn’t help but find him attractive, but the sparkle in Grayson’s eye is what you felt your stomach flip for.

“It’s good to meet you too.” You smiled back at the confident boy in front of you and turned your attention to Grayson. “Now I just gotta find out why I’m so infamous…”

Ethan chuckled and patted Grayson on the back as he wandered away towards the rest of the guests. Grayson guided you into the empty kitchen and propped himself up against the marble countertop, extending his hand to you. You happily grabbed it and he pulled you close to him, his hand resting on the small of your back. You knew your cheeks were bright red and eyes wide, he smiled softly at you as he noticed the change in your body language and the increase in your heart rate he could feel as your chest was pressed against his.

“Want a cupcake?” He grinned, approximately two inches from your face - he was asking if you wanted a cupcake.

“Uh - wha-?” You questioned, he interrupted before you could finish.

“Cupcake.” His cheesy grin took over his entire face as he shoved a chocolate cupcake right into your nose, an elated giggle leaving his mouth as your jaw dropped.

“Grayson!” You shouted, swatting at him as he backed away from you. You dropped the cupcake remains onto the white counter and reached for a paper towel, trying to understand what went through men’s head sometimes. “Why did you do that?” You snapped, trying your best to get the chocolate icing off your face without ruining your makeup.

“I - uh -” He stumbled over his words, glancing down at the ground and tugging at the hair on the back of his head uncomfortably. “I thought it would be like cute - funny? Um -” God, he was struggling. You continued wiping your face off, your anger subsiding slightly as you remembered Charlotte mentioning he wasn’t known for being too smooth with the ladies. His dating record few and far between.

“It was pretty funny.” You grinned at him in your best effort to make him feel better. You could tell he was floundering trying to rationalize even with himself why he had done that to you. “Could you be even more hilarious and try to get the rest of this off my face?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, stepping back towards you and gripping your waist - a soft shriek left your lips as he easily lifted you to sit on the counter top, now eye to eye with him. He grabbed another clean paper towel and started to dab at your face, a serious scowl on his. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking... I should’ve realized I’d mess up your makeup… I’m-”

“Stop.” You held your hand up, shaking your head slightly as he finished cleaning your face. “I’m not mad - honestly.” He let out a sigh of relief, his hands resting on your bare knees - the contact was making your heart race and you tried your best not to let it show in your voice. “Kind of nice to know THE Grayson Dolan can make a mistake.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“I’m not perfect.” He shrugged, smiling at you softly. “A regular dude.”

“Just a regular dude.” You snorted, your face reddening as he tightened his grip on your knees.

He lifted his eyes from your lap up to meet your own, his smile faltering as he leaned in closer to you. You could smell his strong cologne surrounding you, his fingers pressing into your thighs, his minty breath fanning over your face.

“Hey Grays- ope,” Ethan’s head popped around the wall and immediately disappeared. “Don’t mind me!” He yelled, his footsteps quickly disappearing down the hallway.

Grayson laughed awkwardly and tapped your thighs gently, taking a few steps away from you and reaching out to help you down off the counter. You straightened out the bottom of your dress and cleared your throat, grabbing your phone off the counter to see Charlotte had texted you a few times to see if you were ready to go.

“I think Charlotte is ready to head home..” You glanced up at Grayson who was watching you intently, his lower lip tucked between his teeth.

“Oh - uh, yeah, sounds good!” Grayson smiled at you, following you back into the living room to grab Charlotte.

He walked the two of you to the door, quickly saying goodbye and hugging both of you. He shuffled away quickly, making Charlotte shoot you a confused look.

“Geez, I didn’t think he really was THAT awkward..” She giggled, slipping the key into the ignition of her car. “I mean - I’d heard stories, but oof.”

“Oh stop.” You rolled your eyes at her, glancing down at your phone to see if he had maybe texted you. “It’s kind of nice… not having some Rico Suave…”

“Oh my god, what year is it, Y/N? Rico Suave!?!” Charlotte screeched, her high-pitched laughter filling the car as the two of you headed home.

#grayson dolan #adolanables #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan smut #grayson #grayson dolan fanfic #ethan #the dolans #influenced!grayson #influenced

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king-finnigan · 4 years

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I Found Something In The Woods Somewhere - Chapter 2

You can also read this on AO3! M A S T E R L I S T

A/n: Special thanks to @panlesters for being my beta! This is chapter 2 of 3, btw. I’m working on part 2 of my Wasteland, Baby series at the moment, which will start posting about a week (or so) after I’ve posted chapter 3 of this fic, so follow me on tumblr or on AO3 @smol_squish if you want to get notifications for that! As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to leave a like and a comment if you feel like it!

He closed his eyes, tiredness weighing him down, and he considered climbing a tree and sleeping in it, when he heard a small, pained noise behind him. He had forgotten about the fox.

He turned around, sheathing his bloodied sword, and walked over to where the creature was still laying on the fallen leaves. He kneeled down next to it, hand resting against the side, right above its quick heartbeat, fingers threading through the soft fur. He regarded the wound in its hind leg, still seeping blood, bone exposed. He could only imagine the pain it was in.

Slowly, quietly, he unsheathed his dagger. It was still dirty, dried flakes of week-old Kikimora blood clinging to the blade, but it would do the job of releasing the animal from its suffering well enough. He sighed. “I’m sorry it had to go like this, you deserved better.”

He raised the knife, pressing the sharp tip against the pelt poking out beneath his fingers, still curled in the soft fur. The heaving ribcage threatened to impale itself, and the fox made a pained sound. Geralt looked to its head, his yellow eyes meeting those of a striking colour, like the sky on a clear summer’s day, like the ocean in the south, like cornflowers in a spring field. It was a blue he had only ever seen once before.

He sighed, and the fox lay his head back down on the fallen leaves. “I’m sorry,” he said once again, his voice barely more than a whisper. He pushed the blade down, piercing the fur easily, stabbing the creature in its heart. The fox shuddered one last breath, before stilling, the blue eyes staring ahead, unseeing.

The Witcher sat there for a few seconds, quietly mourning the loss of an innocent life, one hand still in the red fur, the other around the dagger, sticking out between the ribs. He looked up again as the clouds drew back, sunlight shining on him. He frowned, when he realized the sky above was just as grey as before, and looked down to the fox, as the light grew in intensity, blinding him.

He raised an arm to shield his face, blinking furiously to clear his vision from the black spots the brightness had caused. He felt the heat on the lower half of his face subside, and he lowered his arm again, still barely able to see anything. He rubbed his eyes, a headache starting to form behind his forehead.

He opened his eyes again, and they widened as he took in the sight before him. His breath stopped in his throat, face growing pale, and he started to tremble uncontrollably.

There, in the dead leaves in front of him, lay Jaskier’s body.

His shaking hands reached up to ghost over the Bard’s bare side, one of them eventually settling on the pale face, skin still warm underneath his fingers. His cornflower eyes stared ahead, to the edge of the clearing, blue and unseeing, the usual spark in them gone, forever. Geralt closed them softly, his hands moving of their own accord.

He felt numb, out of touch with reality as he looked to his right, seeing a gaping wound in Jaskier’s left leg, bone exposed, still seeping a bit of blood. His eyes travelled up to the face again, but stopped as he saw a familiar, silver glint. It was his dagger, still sticking out from between the Bard’s ribcage, where Geralt had pierced his heart.

It felt as though a dam broke inside him, feelings suddenly overwhelming him to the point where he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. He had done this. He had murdered Jaskier.

For the first time in his very long life, the Witcher screamed in agony.

҉ ҉ ҉

He awoke with a start, and realized he had fallen asleep while riding Roach. He heard a soft squeak and looked down at the bundle in his hands, blue eyes staring up at him questioningly. “It’s fine, just a dream,” he muttered and looked ahead again. They were on their way to the town of Kirekwall, which wasn’t far from the village that had requested his help with the Kikimora.

He had rushed his way down the hillside, Jaskier wrapped in an old shirt, the wound in his hind leg bandaged. He had asked for a healer in the nameless village, and they had pointed him to Kirekwall, where a Mage supposedly lived. He could see the silhouette of the town, dark against the purple and pink of dawn.

He leaned forward, careful not to hurt the Bard, and thanked Roach quietly for letting him sleep. He leaned back again, slowing the mare down as they entered the town. It was medium-sized, next to a major trading route, which had made the inhabitants rich. Their wealth showed in the clean cobblestone streets, the big, sturdy houses, and their fancy clothes, vain expressions on their faces as they looked at him disapprovingly from clear windows.

He paid no mind to it, instead steering Roach to the first inn he saw. He dismounted carefully, making sure not to hurt Jaskier. He pointed to his mare. “Stay.” She obliged, as always, and he went inside, walking straight to the innkeeper.

“Where can I find the Mage?” His voice was low, demanding, and the pot-bellied man behind the counter cowered a bit, pointing behind him.

“She lives down the street, sir. Purple door, can’t miss it.” The innkeeper winced as Geralt slammed a coin on the bar, sighing loudly in relief as the Witcher went back outside, hushed whispers and lingering stares following him.

He took Roach’s reigns, striding deeper into the town. The innkeeper had spoken true, and Geralt soon found himself in front of a cottage, squeezed between the two-story houses around it. He slammed his fist against the purple-painted door, as he held Jaskier softly to his chest.

No reaction could be heard from inside, and he looked down at the Bard, who cocked his head, squeaking lightly. “Try again maybe?” He seemed to say, though there could be a million different ways to interpret the squeak. A small part in the back of his mind noted the fact that the edges of Jaskier’s irises seemed to rust, an orange-y brown creeping in on the bright blue.

He pushed the thought away, looking at the door once again, knocking it loudly once, twice. This time, he could hear stumbling inside, and the door was swung open wildly.

“What do you w-“ Yennefer’s sentence was cut short by her surprise, as she saw Geralt. She groaned and the Witcher shuffled a bit in place.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, but it’s urgent.” He hated the way his voice sounded awkward, but Yennefer just rolled her eyes, and stepped aside, purple eyes following him intently as he walked past her, into the cottage.

He found himself in the living room, that doubled as her study. In the middle of the floor stood a large wooden table, littered with books and all sorts of herbs and vials. The shelves on the walls were overflowing with books and potions as well.

With one swoop of her arm, she cleared the table, and looked at him expectantly. “Well go on, lay the Bard down.” He did as she had demanded, looking at her in surprise. She rolled her eyes at him again. “Yes, I know it’s him.”

Geralt shrugged in response, lifting a stack of papers from a chair and putting it on the ground, pulling the chair to the table, and sitting down. Jaskier seemed angered as Yennefer bent over him, poking at his head with one curious finger. The Bard batted a paw at her, growling in warning.

“Well, he still seems to hate me.” She looked up at Geralt. “You sure you want him changed back? I mean he’s a lot less loud right now, and a lot cuter.” That earned her another snarl from the Bard, and she chuckled.

Geralt sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please, can you help him? At least with the wound?”

She lifted her hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do to heal him, and then I’ll find a way to break the curse, I guess.” She pointed at him. “But you better leave me the hell alone after this.”

He sighed again, sagging in his chair, as she unwrapped the bandages from Jaskier’s leg. There was no use in telling her this was all a big coincidence, some cruel twist of fate designed by Destiny herself. He tried to ignore Jaskier’s squeaks of pain, sharp, tiny nails burying themselves in the wood of the table as Yennefer cleaned the wound and cast a healing spell.

She pulled up another chair, sitting down next to the Bard, compass in her hands. “Alright, I will make a tracking spell that will lead you to whoever made the curse. Though, for some reason I doubt they’ll be of much help. The spell on Jaskier doesn’t feel hostile, more… pure, good.” Geralt cocked his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaskier swivelled his head between the pair, blue eyes curious.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead a bit. “I don’t think whoever made this had bad intentions. I just… don’t know why they did this, if that’s really the case.” She shrugged, sitting up straight, holding the compass in her flat palms.

She gazed at it intently, muttering a few words in Elder, and the object lit up, a soft light surrounding it. Jaskier looked at it, then at her, cocking his head, ears perked up. A small squeak, and Yennefer rolled her eyes.

“Yes, it works, Bard.” Another squeak, this time lower, more decisive. “Yes, I know it’s still pointing to the north, I can see that. Just trust me, it works.” She all but slammed the compass on the table, and stood up, stalking into her bedroom.

She returned a few moments later with a large piece of cloth. “Here, you’ll need this,” she said as she threw it in Geralt’s lap. He looked at her questioningly. “It’s a baby sling. You can use it to carry the Bard without having to use your hands.” The Witcher decided not to question why she had it in the first place.

Jaskier squeaked indignantly, and she looked at him. “What? Do you seriously think you’re going to be able to keep up with Roach with that wound?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Absolutely not. This is the safest way.”

Jaskier let out a whine, laying his head on his front paws, and Yennefer shrugged, looking at Geralt once again. “Now, go, you need to hurry.” She shot a look at the Bard, lowering her voice. “I don’t know what long-term effects this spell might have on him.”

Jaskier’s head shot up, letting out a long whine, and Geralt swore he could hear panic in the sound. He looked down at the Bard, then back into Yennefer’s purple eyes. He stood up, taking the baby sling, managing to fasten it properly around himself. Jaskier let out a small squeak as the Witcher picked him up by the waist, safely depositing him in the cloth, against his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he half spoke to the Bard, half to the Mage. “I won’t let anything happen.”

҉ ҉ ҉

He had to admit, carrying Jaskier in the sling wasn’t as uncomfortable as he had expected. They were riding north, and once in a while he made a passing comment to the Bard, earning him a squeak or a nudge with the wet, black nose in return. He stared intently at the compass, and after a few hours it started to point to the northeast.

He smiled. She had been right, as always. Her tracking spell had worked. Soft fur tickled his chin as Jaskier looked at the view, head moving from side to side. Another squeak, as the Bard looked at the forest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He seemed to ask, and Geralt hummed in agreement. He couldn’t really explain it, but some part of him always found some sort of translation for the squeaks and whines. He had no way of knowing his interpretation was right, of course, but so far Jaskier hadn’t seemed to complain about his responses, so he figured he was pretty spot-on.

More than once he found himself smiling at the Bard’s soft noises, at the warmth on his chest, at the knowledge that Jaskier was safe, for now. He realized he had missed Jaskier, more than he would’ve liked to admit, and his mind flashed back to their painful separation, now over a year ago.

He cleared his throat, and blue eyes looked up at him. “I uh…” He had no idea what to say, but he tried anyways. “I’m sorry, for what happened. On the mountain. I shouldn’t have said those things, I was wrong, and you deserve better.” He stared ahead, not daring to look down at the Bard.

A wet nose touched his chin, and he finally tore his gaze away from the horizon. Jaskier whined softly, voice hopeful somehow. “It’s okay, I forgive you,” he seemed to say. Geralt smiled, relief flooding through him as he saw the familiar twinkle in those blue eyes, rusty brown at the edges of the irises.

҉ ҉ ҉

They rode on for five more days, barely resting, trekking across half the Continent, before ending up in the mountains near Kaer Morhen. The days were growing shorter, wet snow starting to fall as they struggled their way up a mountain path. Jaskier shivered, burying himself deeper into the sling, in search of Geralt’s warmth.

The Witcher worried as they went up the slippery slope. The Bard seemed to have… changed somewhat in the past few days. He had seemed different three times, to be exact. His blue eyes had lost their familiar sparkle, and he had clawed and scratched at Geralt’s armour, hissing as he did so. He had even tried to jump out of the sling once, biting at the Witcher’s hand as it held him in place.

Afterwards, he had acted normal again, all inquisitive squeaks and huffs, blue eyes sparkling and curious as to what had angered Geralt, rust around the irises. The Witcher had just shaken his head, deciding not to worry the Bard with the suspicion that had started to form in the back of his mind.

The compass now shone brightly in his hand as they stopped in front of a small opening in the mountain side, a curtain of vines shielding the cave. He frowned, as the vines usually only grew in the south, and definitely not in this time of year. Surely, some kind of magic is happening here.

He dismounted, pausing for a second before pushing the vines to the side, walking into the cave, hand on his sword. It was warm inside, a firepit in the middle of the stone floor, finely carved wooden furniture around it. Flowers were painted all over the walls, and leaves were drawn on the floor.

A young woman stood at a cupboard, her back turned towards them. Golden curls hung down the back of her forest green dress, and she was about five feet tall. Geralt stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, but her voice rang out, clear as a silver bell. “I’ll be right with you, Witcher!”

She rummaged some more, the rustling of paper and the crackling of fire the only sounds filling the cave. Eventually, she turned around to face the pair, broad smile on her features, light green eyes twinkling in delight. She looked young, around twenty years old, though she was undoubtedly a lot older than that, as almost all Mages were.

Yet, she seemed youthful in another way, as well. Her features were bright with hope, a fundamental belief in the goodness of this world. It wasn’t naivety, as Geralt had seen that many times before. This was a genuine goodness, a truthful kindness, like there wasn’t much left of these days. Somehow, it made him feel lighter, as if he had just stepped on a cloud.

“How can I help you?” Her voice was high and joyful, her features shining like the sun.

“I uh…” He had expected a lot of things, but certainly not this. He couldn’t exactly fight his way out of this situation, demand the spell to be broken. He just had to ask nicely. “My friend here is under some sort of spell, can you help him?” He pointed awkwardly at Jaskier.

The Mage approached, cocking her head at the Bard. She ran a small finger over Jaskier’s cheek softly, and he closed his eyes contentedly, sighing a bit. “I can see that, Geralt of Rivia.” She frowned, the displeased look strange on her young face. “And I can sense that the spell is from my hand.”

She looked up at him, worry in her eyes. He held up the compass. “A tracking spell led us here.”

She frowned again, looking at Jaskier, bright blue eyes meeting green ones. She sighed. “I remember now. I sold a transformation potion to a man who was passing through here, a few weeks ago.”

Geralt struggled to hold back a groan. Great, more searching.

She continued, though: “I told him he needed to put something in the potion, a part of the animal he wanted to turn into, and then create a safe-word.”

His ears perked up at that, and he looked at her curiously. “A safe-word?”

She nodded absentmindedly, a faraway look in her eyes, as though she had been transported back to the day in question, and barely registered the Witcher in front of her anymore. “Yes… Something someone close to you can say, that will make you turn back into a human.” She furrowed her brow, voice turning weak, talking to herself more than to Geralt, tears forming in her eyes. “He told me he wanted to turn into a bird…”

She looked back up at him, her eyes suddenly and surprisingly clear, her voice strong. “He used my magic to hurt someone.” Her hand shot up to grab his arm, her grip vice-like, fire in her eyes. “Find him, Witcher. Make him pay.”

He nodded, eyes wide, and she let go of him, turning on her heel to rummage through the cupboard she had been searching earlier. She returned, yellow potion in hand. She took the compass from his hands, pouring the liquid over it. The object shimmered, the needle spinning around wildly a few times before stopping at south.

“It’s another tracking spell,” she said as she returned the compass to Geralt, “it will show you who did this to your friend.” She took a step back, suddenly, and extended her hand. The Witcher took it, shaking it once or twice, fingers curling around the piece of paper she had left in his palm as she retrieved her hand.

“Good luck, Geralt of Rivia. I really hope your friend becomes human again.” He nodded at her, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. The cave had become empty, the fire had died out, and the stone walls and floor were barren, bleak in their greyness.

He looked down at Jaskier, who cocked his head. “I don’t know, don’t ask me where she went,” he seemed to say. Geralt shrugged, and left the cave, mounting Roach and setting out to the valley below, tiny piece of paper still clutched in his hand.

҉ ҉ ҉

That evening, by the fire, Jaskier fell asleep next to him, head in Geralt’s lap as he sat there, cross legged, waiting for the moment the Bard’s breathing deepened sufficiently. Carefully, as to not wake the other up, he opened the piece of folded paper he had held in his hand most of the day. The handwriting was neat and round.

“A warning I didn’t want your friend to hear. After ten days the spell becomes permanent. Your friend will lose his humanity and remain an animal forever. You may have already seen changes in his behaviour. Hurry.”

Geralt felt his breath stop in his throat, his heart skipping a painful beat. He hid the note in his sleeve, shaking Jaskier slightly. The Bard squeaked tiredly, and looked up at him.

The Witcher tried to keep his voice steady as he asked: “How long were you a fox before I found you?” Jaskier blinked at him, before gently scratching Geralt’s leg three times. Three days.

Geralt nodded, and tried to keep the panic from his face. Eight days had passed since the spell had been cast on Jaskier. They didn’t have long.

The Bard yawned, and drifted back into sleep, eyes blinking closed, the colour of rust taking up half the irises, closing in on the blue.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #gerlion #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #i found something in the woods somewhere #chapter 2 #mine

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