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cerastes · 1 month

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I was thinking about the "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP -> Sex" post (that OP deleted and that I hope it wasn't due to harassment) and I think a sizeable amount of people that dislike Vtubers don't actually dislike Vtubers, they dislike Vtuber fans.

Now, quick preface: I used to watch Vtubers, I don't anymore, but I don't dislike them or shit on them, I just moved onto other things, plus I don't like certain aspects of it as a culture on the corporate side. One of the biggest things I dislike, though, are the fans. I sincerely have never before wanted to not be perceived as something as much as I have with being a fan of Vtubers, not because Vtubers are cringe, but because being associated with Vtuber fans would legit lead to an ego death for me.

I obviously mean the ones that are the most infamous with that statement, if it wasn't obvious enough: The ones that seem to try and grasp at every chance to aggrandize, or, say, idolize Vtubers. You know the ones I'm talking about, the people that say "wow, normies fucking suck, they see Markiplier making weird noises and lose their shit, I don't get it" and 5 minutes later are laughing their lungs out at Amelia Watson making weird noises, the ones that'll see the Vtubers do something in a game and claims she's a Goddess Of The Game, The Best Player Alive At It, the ones that'll endlessly circulate clips of the Vtubers "using their real voice by accident" or "FUNNIEST VTUBER CLIP" (she said something sexual or burped) or "[Vtuber] is a FREAK?" (she said 'feet' or 'vore' or otherwise mentioned any other widespread milquetoast fetish), the ones that'll absolutely die on the hill of going to bat for the Vtuber or Vtuber corp they like (especially Hololive, Hololive shills are lab-grown weirdos with burnt out brains that you'd think are constantly in MK Ultra activation mode except just to defend Hololive at any cost and by any means).

This isn't every Vtuber fan, obviously, but this is what is known as the Vtuber Fan. This is what a lot of people think of when they think of "Vtuber Fans". And seriously, I find it hard to blame the talent -- in the majority of cases, because there's plenty of Vtubers that really lean on the so called "GFE", or "Girlfriend Experience", or "Really Fucking Vile Parasocial Shit", these ones can legit go explode and I support not giving them a platform -- because, see, streams are hours long endeavors for most streamers, and Vtubers definitely are expected to stream at least some good amount of hours per session. The majority of cases, these Vtubers are just making some jokes or commentary that may make reference to sex or involve more raunchy topics, which is completely normal for the average streamer, even non-Vtubers, but then Clippers (or Clip Channels), as they are known, clip only those parts, so for outsiders, Catgirl McTuber is known exclusively for making references to feet, piss, and saying the word sex a couple of times per clip, when the reality of the matter is, Catgirl McTuber only brings those up maybe twice or thrice every couple of streams. There are definitely Vtubers that leverage this, mind you, the whole "ehehehe if I say nipple and feet and imply being into this one obscure fetish, I'll get a shitload of views on my clips, which translates to new followers" so, almost as if on schedule like old Moistcritikal videos, suddenly they will unleash "uhhh yeah chat that health potion I just drank, it's so red and colorful, it looks delicious... Delicious like feet! Like a giantess' feet!" followed by a silence where chat goes "HUH?????" and they know that's going to be their clip, but again, that's not all of them, and some are really misrepresented. In a way, it's largely Clippers' fault that Vtubing in general is so often seen almost necessarily as this Thing For Perverts: Yeah, those clips get traction, from both enjoyers and detractors, and with those delicious views rolling in that aggressively, of course they'll replicate the formula more and more.

This, in turn, feeds into the usual view of the Vtuber Fan: It's easy for anyone not interested, not even hateful of the culture/craft, just uninterested, to view it as "Oh, vtubers? Those super perverts that only ultrafreaks like? Hmm yeah not really, no, I don't watch any of them".

And, again, the need, the compulsion, to aggrandize: "WOAH Pink Vtuber just dropped a new song! It's THE BEST!" maybe it's not bad, really, but it's definitely mid at best, and seeing people really push it as this breakthrough of music so aggressively because they jack it to the Vtuber's model, well, it doesn't sit well with Actual Music Fans of the genre. "WOW Dog Vtuber is FERAL!" she's literally doing much of what Markiplier-type streamers did and do, but she's got a cute anime model and is Female, so fans will go rabid, and other people will eventually find this behavior annoying out of principle.

See, these things I mentioned... Do they warrant hatred? Not really. A streamer can release a track and it can be mid and that's fine. A streamer can make noises and say "unhinged" things and that's fine. Streaming is about doing something you enjoy as much as it is entertaining a crowd, in my opinion. Going about it the way you want to go about it is always the right answer. But then you have these incredibly aggressively parasocially invested fans that make the visible, perceptible bulk of what a Vtuber Fan is, and that's when public opinion, well, it goes to shit, because it's not longer just "a streamer with an anime rig just chilling and doing their thing", it becomes "a streamer with an anime rig doing anything at all and this army of people with usernames like lolifeet9000 proudly proclaiming they are, in fact, the funniest feralest greatest internet supersensation alive, even though all she said was 'armpit' this one time in a 7 hour stream".

Mind you, there's plenty of legitimate gripes to have with Vtubing -- to name a few, the obvious clip fishing is annoying and especially the parasocial angle being intentionally leveraged sits VERY badly with me -- but these things are not universal, not all Vtubers are doing these bad things. I think Vtubers get a lot of unwarranted hate because they have the worst most annoying fans possible, and I would rather people make the distinction more often, if they hate Vtubers or Vtuber Fans (tm), because I think it's not fair to the streamers and I think you hate the Fans, actually, for very good reasons.

#vtubers #thoughts about the topic in general

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eveningepiphany · 8 months

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welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #hslot #love on tour #i just love finalshowrry #love u too #hopefully part four doesn’t take me also two weeks to write HAHA

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landothemuppet · 3 months

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WILD CHERRY AND THE PAPAYA FLIRT (LN4) part one

pairing: lando norris x onlyfan!reader

summary: lando norris indeed goes on OF and being a fan of a certain girl.

content warnings: onlyfan mentionned, suggestive content, disgusting men comments, mention of sugar daddies/baby

author's note: okayyyy well, I have to say that those rumors about Lando really helped me to right this first part. I think it would be two short part, maybe three. I hope you will enjoy this, please be kind to me.

yourinstagram

liked by nobodycaressss5 and 1,587 others yourinstagram 🍒 → sugardaddy67 could give everything to taste your sweet lips → robertutterbate show me more, my babygirl → nobodycaressss5 nice → mrbigredboss did you receive my gift, my sweet baby? liked by yourinstagram

yourusername is on live!

yourinstagram posted a story

nobodycaressss5 even if you would be stunning in that, i have to say: wrong team, girl yourinstagram First, it was a cute gift from someone. Then, which teams should i wear, then? nobodycaressss5 From one of your daddies? idk why but i'm sure papaya would suits you better or nothing...would be even better yourinstagram None of your business, you noisy little weirdo oh, so you want me naked? what would you do if i was? nobodycaressss5 Not a really nice way to talk to someone who wants to be nice Treat you well, honey...treat you so well, better than all of your daddies yourinstagram bold of you, empty pp...

twitter

yourinstagram posted a story

nobodycaressss5 are your flirting with me, babygirl? yourinstagram should i? nobodycaressss5 don't know, what's the papaya about? yourinstagram testing the merch before wearing the actual color nobodycaressss5 so you considering about me sending you gift? yourinstagram mhmm, maybe, if I like the taste, maybe you should start to show me how you treat me better than the others... nobodycaressss5 can't wait to show you... yourinstagram my turn.. what's the papaya about? what's the matter behind that particular color? nobodycaressss5 let me first see you in papaya and then i will tell you, babygirl

gossipwags

liked by nowislan, infourlando, and 7,854 others

gossipwags it seems like our national Lando Norris loves to like some sulfurous instagram account those days. Lando's parasocials are wild and non-reciprocal on this account. (@)yourinstagram is a faceless instagram account with a red aesthetic (seem our papaya boy likes kinda a Ferrari girl), with some pretty implicit content. Also, she seems to have a link on her profile leading to an OF paid page. What do you think?

yourinstagram

liked by nobodycaressss5, and 1,989 others yourinstagram Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me. (Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov, 1955) show more comments → landonowiss ugh, she's quoting a pedophile ↳ ln4swiftie educate yourself, you moron. → bobnorris Not Lolita 😩 → nowinfornorris whore ↳ charlandosupremacy slut-shamming could be illegal ↳ nowiiis she's asking for it, quoting some perv books, having an onlyfans ↳ ln4swiftie (@)nowiiis again, educate yourself...and girl can do whatever she wants, that doesn't make her a whore. We're in 2024.

yourusername is on live!

#ln4 #lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic

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hon3yteddy · 1 year

Text

꒰ nct dream + intimate moments i want to experience 🍞 ꒱

synopsis: tbh idk but there thing i'd generally kill to experience (this is not a joke), and add some arson too if i get to do them with dream genre(s): established relationship, romance, tooth rotting fluff warning(s): mix use of tenses, severe symptoms of delusions and signs of parasocial relationship, not reread at all !!! author's note: hanging out with newjeans at the psych ward

#𝟎𝟐𝟎𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 . . .

― kind of cliché a cheesy... but slow dancing! mark's one of us - a hopeless romantic so he'd definitely be a sucker for a slow dance under the dim lights of your shared apartment. he'd perfectly time his movements after instantly recognising your favourite slow song (i recommend any song by laufey) drift from the kitchen as you prepare your dinner for the evening. he's heard the song too many times to count but mark never minded. he loved that about you - the little things, the big things, and everything in between.

just before the chorus, he'd slip behind you, guiding your hands with his own to carefully drop whatever you were holding, and clumsily twirl you round to face him. i can feel it in my bones that the man would do those knew weakening, borderline giggle, chuckle of his and gently pull your hand for a light kiss against the skin of your knuckles. you would find yourself resting one hand on his shoulder and the other being embraced tightly by his. mark always loves how close you feel when you're like this.

he would give you that look, the look you've seen a hundred times. it's the same one he gave you before he kissed you for the first time, the same one he wore when he finally got the guts to ask you on a date, that look so beautiful and real that your too much in a daze to notice him slip an arm around your waist. together you slowly sway to the beat of the song, forgetting the past and ignoring the future.

he holds you close, maybe too close even. yet none of that mattered. all that did was the way he was whisking you across the room, embracing you tight. feathered kisses, words of worship, lovesick eyes - truly a night to remember.

♡: mark, the foods going to burn... mk: guess so. but i'll eat anything made by you, burnt or not. ♡: the food is definitely burning right now!

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟑 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 . . .

― renjun is a true artist and what is one of the most popular forms of art? paintings. he adores painting you, a truly enjoyable pastime. countless of times would you catch him sketching you, entrapping every detail of your soul onto a canvas or simply just the ripped page of a battered notebook. you have always been curious about his hobby so every now and then you'd have the honour of spending the hour painting with renjun.

there's something so dear about painting with someone you love. maybe it's the serenity, or the way the soul becomes so vulnerable yet so free on the canvas. whatever it was, things always felt so different when it would be the two of you.

evenings were always the time for such dates and soon enough the both of you would have long ago abandoned the canvases. it all had started when you had gotten frustrated with your piece of the day, for it could never compare to renjun's. so frustration took over, and you had painted a sad face on side of his face so very careful to not poke him in the eye. your shaky attempt at frown reminded you of the earlier days where it was socially acceptable to paint on one’s face and so you didn’t stop.

you enjoyed it and he could tell as he too abandoned his own piece to paint on you. the way he carefully held your giggling bod still and swirled his brush against your exposed skin from the blush of your cheeks, to the dent of your collarbones. you always found renjun prettier when he was focused and now he was focused on every part of you, adorning you with works of his own. yet none of his paintings could ever compete with the beauty of you.

♡: you always make me look so beautiful, renjun. rj: you just simply are, that's all.

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟒 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 . . .

― jeno is a man sent from the heavens, carved by zeus himself and blesses the undeserving earth with his presence. basically, he's a sweet man with big, beefy arms you kinda just want to chomp and snuggle against. (the indescribable things i'd do to be embraced by the lee jeno can not be said aloud.)

cuddling is a simplistic show of affection and jeno must be the best person to hug in the whole world. a true safe place in this cruel world where you can finally let yourself be vulnerable and receive the love you oh so needed.

jeno loves hugging you. if it's after work, after a hard day, on the sofa, out of the blue, the man would be at your beck and cal. sometimes you didn't need to ask. he'd would be right there each and every time and he would love every hug he got to share with you. the thought of simply hugging you is everything to this lovesick puppy.

the hugs he loves the most are the ones you just needed the most. the ones where there was no need for an exchange of words or questioning eyes, just open arms. there was no other soul on this very earth who could make you feel so loved yet so weak in his arms that you could swear you could break, and sometimes you did. but he was there, and that's all you needed.

there's something so intense between each hug - tight embraces, soft hums, tender kisses, and the alignment of both your hearts. with each hug, jeno told you he loved you without the need for a single word.

jn: … (i love you) ♡: … (i love you too)

#𝟎𝟔𝟎𝟔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 . . .

― now it's no surprise to us when i say haechan adores physical touch. he honestly invented the love language itself. so of course, the dude is very much in love with you and the act of kissing you. every chance he got, he kissed you every time. but if there was one thing haechan loves more than kissing you, it's you kissing him.

imagine just kissing every inch of this man who deserves all the love in the world! he loves it when you kiss his moles with whispered words of praise in between. he never lets you miss one and always points out one just to get another kiss.

he's a giggling mess and you are too. hiding underneath the bed covers, tracing your hands against his bare skin, enjoying the way he writhes in anticipation for your next kiss. it's a game you both enjoy too much.

don't worry, you always get your fair share of kisses. he loves kissing the details of your skin and he loves even more the reaction he earns with each one (cocky dude). there isn't a single part of you he dislikes. oh, and if you too are blessed with moles of your own, he'll find each and every one to give a tickling kiss. sometimes he'll call them stars, sometimes its the cute dots of ladybugs - every single blemish, scar and mole would be loved, for haechan is just utterly in love with your very being down to the last detail.

hc: you know moles are where your lover kissed you in your past life? ♡: really? you must have given me these then. hc: and in your next life, you’ll have so many more for me to kiss…

#𝟏𝟑𝟎𝟖 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 . . .

― bubble baths. i can't explain it easily, but there's something so romantic about bubble baths. jaemin isn't necessarily joining you, but if wants to, he can hop in my imagine bath tub. he's actually the one preparing them for you. he'll always want his lover to feel a tease, he could never let you drown yourself in stress.

every now and then he would prepare the perfect bubble bath, filling the tub with hot water, scented ointments, expensive soap and even a dash of petals. you can tell he enjoys doing it too as he'll usually greeted by the man himself at the door, wearing the proudest smile. he doesn't hesitate in sweeping you off your feet, always nagging for you to relax while he takes care of everything else.

he always prepares a lot, paying attention to every detail he knows you'll love. your favourite song plays, a calming scent drift from the candles he's lit, there'll always be a glass of your favourite drink by your side and your favourite pjs hang against the door for you to slip in after.

as you lay in the bath, wading your hands against the water that’s just right, you sometimes feel shy under jaemin’s attentive and kind gaze. You may even complain about it all being too much but he’s quick to hush you with a kiss. jaemin just wants you to enjoy the serenity every now and then, he can’t handle seeing the one he loves struggling. he enjoys spoiling you and he loves seeing your tense body finally give up and melt. this week he’ll read you a book as he sits beside the bathtub, not caring if you splash a little water onto him. the next he’ll let you enjoy a movie, and the one after, he’ll bring you a meal for you to enjoy whether that be a fast food burger or home cooked pasta. chivalry could never be dead with jaemin around.

jm: it's time you to take a break! ♡: you already did this for me like last week! jm: it's not illegal for you to take regular breaks, okay?

#𝟐𝟐𝟏𝟏 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 . . .

― you know that genre of romance scenes where the main couple help the other put on a necklace, fix a tie, button up their shirt, brush their hair etc, that - all of that. the simplicity of getting ready with a lover is so dreamy and chenle is indeed the man of everyone's dream.

the intensity shared between the two of you is unmatched. the bliss silence, hesitant touches, enchanted eye contact... gosh i'm blushing. when he stands behind you, letting his fingers graze the back of your neck to clasp the new necklace he's bought you. a compliment leaves his lips to touch upon the shell of your ear. he never dares to hide from your watchful eyes in the reflection and neither do you.

chenle lets his fingers glide down you bare back to zip the material of your outfit together. he holds you still while his hand painstakingly slowly moves up your spine for him to stop with a soft “all done”, enamoured by you and only you. and when he places you in front of the vanity mirror, threading his fingers through your hair, taking his time in watching, no, worshipping your very being in a blissful silence

the tension would almost be too much to bear. the way he gazes down at you while your busy fixing the tie he has clearly messed up on purpose. he always catches himself enjoying it all too much. something about the close proximity, focused eyes and building tension that's got his knees on the verge of buckling. just every moment chenlesees you, he swears he's fallen in love with you all over again.

cl: so b- ♡: you're going to call me beautiful again, aren't you?

#𝟎𝟓𝟎𝟐 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 . . .

― now me and mr park jisung don't have a lot in common, but we do share the epitome of being awkward (he just pulls it off better than me. so it's fair to say that hand holding would get jisung weak in the knees. he's just a tall grown man with the soul of a little child and who's hopelessly in love with you.

and i must say, jisung has got the prettiest hands i've ever seen, no wonder you can't hold yourself back from slipping your hands into his. it makes him jump every time but he'd hold hands with you forever if he could.

it begins with the two of you walking side by side and a noticeable brush of hands. then a classic pinkie lock comes into play and jisung is in a mess already. and finally you'll intertwine your fingers with his once again. it's shock to his poor heart every time it occurs. he'd never let his eyes meet your face, he's far to weak to look at your beautiful face. he would simply falter and break under your loving gaze.

hand holding is a timeless classic move that is every loner's dream. does jisung wish he could experience the sensation of holding hands with you for the first time? very much so!

♡: you're adorable, jisung. js: … (internal monologue about how much he's in love with you)

january 2023 © hon3yteddy

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eastgaysian · 11 months

Note

it's insane to me that gaiman is treated as some kind of honorary tumblrina when his ass raised funds for a guy who was arrested for having lolicon in his possession and still defends his stance on the matter to this day while just being an absolute weirdo, his dick is not big enough for people to continue riding it like that all the damn time 😭

i feel like this gets brought up once a year and then people jointly forget about it to reblog his latest #epic clapback 🙃 like maybe we are overusing 'parasocial relationship' at this point. but it's so pathetic to me that a grown ass famous author is so invested in his online presence AND that people actively buy into it either to feel the need to defend him or to be like haha neil gaiman is just like one of us :) like yes he is a fucking loser and a weirdo if that's what you're referring to i guess

#mingbox

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astronomodome · 5 months

Text

It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy

Rendog

c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise

cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me

Grian

c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening

cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t

Joel Smallishbeans

c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies

cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3

Scott Smajor

c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too

cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose

BigB

c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin

cc!: Man is yoked. I have died

Etho

c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid

cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten

Bdubs

c!: I could punt him with ease

cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it

Pearl

c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it

cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains

Martyn Inthelittlewood

c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me

cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die

Scar from Goodtimes

c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face

cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?

Impulse

c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes

cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though

Tango

c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem

cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope

Cleo

c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me

cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it

Jimmy Solidarity

c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time

cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.

Skizzleman

c!: Why would I do that

cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk

Geminitay

c!: Lol. No.

cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial

Mumbo Jumbo

c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him

cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over

Lizzie LDShadowlady

c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it

cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack

#sillyposting #life series #astro speaks #idk what came over me hope you enjoy my shitpost #trafficblr

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blasphemecel · 4 months

Text

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

#shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you

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