#is it because I’m just a shitty fucking person

[b3ach-bunn7]

NONSENSE

You're horrible at technology, and find yourself fliriting with you university's IT customer service.

University!au, noquirk!au, fluff

(side note i love shinsou hitoshi)

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You’re sure your stupid shitty laptop could break world records with how useless and slow it is.

You don’t think you’re much better. You study veterinary medicine so you can name every bone in a cat's ass but it would take you ten years to figure out how to send a Word document to somebody. The only up to being so horrible at technology, is your university has an IT customer service. 

It’s weird and you don’t really understand how it works, but according to the front page, you can call anytime from 10am to 3am. With the clock ticking minutes before your submission date, and with an essay due tomorrow, you decide it will be less embarrassing to confess you have no idea how to work the university’s submission system, than not submit at all. You dial the number quickly, biting your thumbnail as it rings a couple times before it picks up. The person on the other line barely said their hellos before you started rambling.

“Okay, I know this is really stupid, but I cannot figure out how to attach my submission to this stupid fucking- I mean, this stupid system. And I have like, twenty minutes before my submission date, so I’d really appreciate any help you can give me.”

“Why would you leave your submission so last minute?” 

You frown. You’re unaware that customer support could be so sassy. And also attractive. At least his voice is. It’s smooth and soft, and you press your phone closer to your ear to hear him better. 

“Uhm. I don’t need the sass, thank you, I need the help.” You drawl, clicking at your laptop aggressively.

There’s a little chuckle of amusement on the other end of the line. “Apologies, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Would you prefer sir?”

Your face twists in annoyance. “I’d prefer you to help me.”

“Alright, alright. Okay, so enter the module the work is for, scroll to the bottom.” He pauses slightly so you can follow his instructions.

“Okay.”

“Then click the three dots on the top left. Where it says enter, click that and select your file, then submit.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t the button say submit. Instead of fucking enter.” You grumble, quickly attaching your work and handing it in.

“Not sure. I’ll let the university know.” He says, faux sympathy coating his voice.

“That’d be nice.” You glanced at your phone. You’re not sure what exactly happens now.

“So. Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Do I just. Hang up? Now that you’ve helped me?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again. “Unless you wanna keep me company for the rest of my shift?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You hang up, trying to ignore the small smile on your own face as you do it. You don't have to miss him for long though, because you find yourself calling them back only a few days later after the wifi in your room refuses to work. 

You turn it off, then on. You carry your laptop all around your flat and hold it up to the ceiling knowing it won’t make a single difference. You ask your roommate and she is having no issue. It’s only when you’re about two seconds from snapping your laptop in half before you realise you’re not even connected. And after you find out your roommate is fine once more, you find yourself scrolling through your call history to find the IT number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?”

 You gape. “It’s you again!”

“Hey, it’s submission girl.” He grins. “You forget it’s called enter again?”

You roll your eyes. “Ha ha. I’m not calling for your horrible comedy, I'm calling because my WiFi isn’t working. You can help me with that, right?”

He groans into the phone. “Do I have to?”

“Yes you have to. It’s your job, IT guy.”

“I suppose. Since you asked me so nicely.”

You sit up in your bed. “Okay. What should I do?”

“Are you sure it’s not just the WiFi being shitty?” He asks.

You hum questionably. “No, I don’t think so. I asked my roommate and she said that hers is fine. And it’s also saying disconnected.”

You pause for a minute. “Wait, how do you know the WiFi is shitty?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m a student too, idiot. I have to deal with shitty wifi as well.”

“Oh.”

You’re not shocked per say. He certainly doesn’t sound like a middle aged man you’d imagine working in IT. It’s nice to confirm though. And the fact that he is probably around your age means you can keep finding his voice hot.

“What, do I sound that old?”

Definitely not. “Yeah.”

“Shut up. You sound worse.” He mumbles and you tut. 

“Horrible customer service. I’m filing a complaint.”

A small laugh is heard from the other line. “I’d rather you didn’t. Rent is not cheap here.”

You lay back on your bed, dragging your laptop up on your knees. “You live in the student dorms?”

“Well, duh. I am a student, after all.” 

You roll your eyes. “What year are you?” “Second.”

“Hey, me too! How old are you?” “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

He replies that he’s nineteen, just like you. You wonder if you’ve seen him around before. Maybe he’s even in the same course as you. You could ask for his name, but you think that might be a little weird. That, and you sort of love the mystery around the man. Who knew being so useless at technology would lead to such great things?

Your laptop flickers off, and it’s only then you remember that you called him for a reason. You tap the keyboard and it lights back up, and your anger flares up once more. You huff, and IT guy seems to remember why you called too.

“Right, your wifi. You said it’s working for your roommate?” He asks.

“Yeah. And it’s working on my phone, it’s just my laptop.”

He hums, and you can hear the faint sound of clicking on the other line. “What building are you in?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

You smile. “I’m in 4A.”

He takes another few seconds, and you lean your head back on your bed as you wait for him to say something. 

“Alright. Your password should be, ‘uab4a’. You wanna try type that in?”

You groan, sitting up again. “I have, like six hundred times. But okay.” You huff, doing it once more.

Nothing. You sigh, defeated. All you want to do is watch some Netflix. 

It takes about five tries before IT guy finally starts to get stressed out with you. He tells you to click different things, turn your laptop on and off, restart it. You follow all his instructions to no avail, and you shake your head.

“You know what, maybe I’ll just watch Netflix on my phone.” You sigh, said phone now on speaker and thrown on your bedsheets.

IT guy tuts. “None of that talk. I just don’t understand. We’ve tried literally everything. The only way I-”

Suddenly the other line goes quiet. You grab your phone to check he didn’t hang up and you see that it’s now been 18 minutes of you two on the phone together. 

“Why have you gone all quiet?”

“Is your caps lock on?”

You bark a laugh. “Right. Like I’m that stupid to-”

You look down. The little light next to your capslock button is flashing, and your face heats red and IT guy starts cackling down the other line. You write the password once more, in lower case this time, and you let your face fall in your hands at the sign of four wifi bars flashing back at you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, and IT guy just keeps laughing.

“Oh- Oh my god, you idiot.”

“Shut up! I dont- How did I not realise?” You cry, slamming your laptop shut.

IT guy takes a deep breath. “I really don’t know.”

You shake your head, putting the phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You mumble.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I think you’re the only person that calls this line, anyway.”

You decide to ignore the nickname, and the tingle it leaves in your gut, and nod. “Good, then. I’m keeping your job for you.”

“So kind. Alright, go watch your show.”

“Night, IT guy.”

“Goodnight.”

Over the next two weeks, you end up calling a handful of times. Your password needs resetting, you accidentally deleted a file. Each inane task ends up with the two of you sitting on the phone for ages afterwards. You learn that he’s an insomniac, and that’s why he always works the night shift. He also lives in building 5B, which is about a ten minute walk from your place. The fact he’s so close, that you could go see him right now, taunts you in the back of your mind everyday. The fact that he was in your university, that he could be your classmate or someone walking around campus. 

But, like all things, your horrible internet habits mellow out. After a few days of no problems, you find yourself missing him. You’ve only spoken a handful of times, but he’s funny. He’s sarcastic and a little mean, but in a good way, a way that makes you a little giddy. And of course, now that you want issues, it’s so much harder for you to find some.

Over wine poured in mugs and reruns of you confess to your roommate your situation. She’s a little skeptical of the lack of identity, but she thinks you should just call him again. It couldn’t hurt, right? Worse case scenario, you hang up and the two of you never have to speak again. But best case scenario, you can have a conversation that’s actually about something meaningful. And you can get called sweetheart again.

It takes another two days for you to build up the courage, despite your friend’s support. You wait until it’s late, remembering that he told you he works the night shift, and anxiously dial the number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?” His voice sounds bored, automated, but you recognise it immediately.

“Hey, IT guy.” 

You hear a shuffle on the other end. “Hey, it’s my favourite customer.”

“It’s me.” You say nervously.

“So, what is it today? WiFi on the fritz again?” He teases. 

It takes a second for the words to get out. “Uh, no, I. I actually don’t need help with anything today.”

“Okay. So what’s the call for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Silence. Oh god. You immediately cringe, and you are never listening to your roommate again, because she’s always wrong and stupid.

“Really?” He says quietly.

You swallow. “Really really. Don’t sound too excited.” You joke and he laughs.

“Trust me, I am. I wanted to talk to you again too, but I had no way to. The numbers on our end don’t get saved after every call, so. I was waiting for you.”

You perk up at his words. “Really?” “Really really. I also couldn't ask around. I doubt you go by submission girl in your everyday.”

You walk into your room, hopping into bed. You lay down on your stomach, and place your phone in front of you, resting your face on your arms.

“No, not particularly. Wouldn’t it be weird, though? If we actually knew each other in person this whole time and we never knew?” “Nah, I doubt it. Think I’d remember a pretty voice like yours.”

Your face flushes. “Shut up. ” You say, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool you down.

He snorts a laugh. “What do you study?”

“Veterinary medicine.”

“Wait, that’s sick. Do you get to see cats?”

You grin. “Yes! I volunteered at a shelter last summer, they were so cute.” 

He hums. “I love cats. I have one, you know.”

You eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Here? On campus? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nobody knows about her. We won’t get caught/ She's a good girl, she isn't loud or anything. And my roommate in under sworn secrecy.” He says.

Good girl. There's no way he isn’t talking like that on purpose. You nod your head even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, and what if she came to live with me?” You ponder, and he scoffs.

“I’m not co-parenting my cat with you.”

You’re lucky enough that your room faces the setting sun and now, a soft orange glow covers your room. It’s just cold enough that you’re wearing a hoodie and your fluffiest socks, but your window is still open to freshen the air. There’s a vanilla scented candle on its last life on your bedside table, and you prop your phone up against it and lean back in your bed.

“I could report you, you know. They’ll kick you out the uni.”

IT guy pouts. “You don’t want that to happen. Then you’ll never see how beautiful I am in real life.”

You snort a laugh. “Well, what do you look like? So I know what to avoid on campus.”

He hums thoughtfully for a moment. You yourself have spent countless minutes wondering. Is he tall? Short? Blonde, or brunette, or maybe he’s bald. You have no idea. 

“Well. I’m like, 6’1.”

“Yum.”

“Shut up.” He chides, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “And I have like. Kind of long hair. And I always look sleep-deprived, 24/7.”

“Night shifts will do that to you. What colours your hair?”

“Hm. No.”

You protest. “What do you mean no?”

“It’s a dead giveaway! I want to keep some of my mystery.”

He asks you what you look like. You give him the same cryptic descriptions he gave you. 

“Wow. I can find you easily now.” He drawls and you grin.

“No matter. We’ll meet one day.” You say.

The two of you end up staying on the phone for hours. It’s unfair how easily you find things to talk about. He tells you about his course, Psychology, and you listen as he rambles in your ear about studies and experiments. As it gets later his voice gets deeper, lacing deliciously with sleep as his voice rumbles in your ears. The time wears on and your eyes start to blink heavily. You look at the time and it’s been three hours.  Unfortunately, you are not like IT guy, and not only do you have classes tomorrow, but you need sleep to function. 

You yawn heavily. “Look, I hate to be a buzzkill but I gotta sleep. I’ve got a ten am tomorrow.” 

“Boring. But fine. I’ll, uh. Talk to you later.”

You nod sleepily. “Night.”

You reach your phone over to hang up but IT guy’s voice rings out, scratchy through the speaker.

“Wait! I- Can I give you my number?”

That’s enough to wake you up.

You sit up on one elbow, rubbing at your eyes. “Your what?”

“Phone number? It’s those numbers you dial in when you wanna call me.”

“It’s too late for sarcasm.” You scowl.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just I’d like to have a way to communicate with you. And call you. And text, or whatever.”

You smile slightly. “Okay. Yeah, of course you can.”

He reads out his number and you jot it down. He hangs up soon after and you send him a quick text.

September 17th 

01:20 am

You: goodnight IT guy 😁

IT guy: Goodnight  💜

Life gets much easier with his phone number. Now you can text him during your lectures, during the walk to and from your work. He calls you during his shifts and you keep him company for as long as you can before you fall asleep. Which you have embarrassingly done a few times.

He sends you pictures of his cat. A cute black one called Pesto. You ask for the meaning behind that and he said he was eating pesto pasta when he got her. There’s one picture where you can see his hands in the corner, fingers long and slender and you have to stop looking before your thoughts take a dangerous turn.

Theres a time, maybe a week in, that things between you shift. The playful flirting is upped, and the conversations between you become more meaningful. You start anxiously awaiting a text back, face flushing at the stuff he says sometimes. Maybe it isn’t the smartest idea to fall for a guy who you don’t really know, but you don't care.

He knows Denki, for one. You’d mentioned the name and he’d perked up. Denki was an energetic guy you met at a house party once. And if IT guy is friends with him then that's more than enough confirmation for you that he isn’t a freak.

You tell him more about what you look like. You haven’t sent a picture, but you think he might know enough to catch you on campus. He still hasn’t told you much else, and he confesses to you one night that he’s nervous about it.

IT guy: I don’t wanna be a buzz kill but I’m scared ur gonna be disappointed

You: literlaly shut up

You: idc if u look like a troll

IT guy: right

You: or an ogre

IT guy: is this supposed to make me feel better

You: YES

You: look what im trying to say that i genuinely don’t care because i like u regardless of all that

You: ur smart and ur funny and ur mean but ina good way

You: and u hace a cute cat called pesto

IT guy: so ur using me for my cat?

You: duh..

It’s been two days since that conversation, and IT guy has been much more active ever since. You’d like to think you’ve given him a little boost of confidence, but you don’t care why it’s happening. You’re just happy that it is. 

You wish you could reply to whatever he’s sent you right now, but your boss might fire you if he catches you on your phone again.

You like the coffee shop you work at. It’s a quaint little hippy spot that’s a ten minute walk from your place. The pay is good enough, and you like your coworkers. Specifically Tokoyami. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he lets you chatter away to him every time you’re on shift together, and he always has good music recommendations for you.

Today, it’s the both of you on shift. You’re wiping down the coffee machines in the back and you can see him talking to someone at the counter. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s rare you see him talking so animatedly. So you try to get a closer look. And wow.

You don’t know who he’s talking to but you’d like to. His hair is purple. That’s the first thing you notice. It’s a lavender and it looks so soft and fluffy you want to reach out and touch it. His eyes are a deep brown, and there’s heavy bags under them, but they somehow make him look even more beautiful. He’s got a lazy smirk on his face as he says something to Tokoyami and you’re itching to reach forward and eavesdrop. But you can’t. You’re on cleaning duty. Of course you are when a cute guy comes in.

You feel a pang of guilt suddenly, when you remember IT guy. You don’t think you should be thinking about any other guys. Even really cute ones. You get your head down and keep wiping. It’s only a moment later when you hear a crash and your head shoots up. Something happened out in the shop, and a moment later Tokoyami pops his head in the kitchen.

“Someone spilled some shit on the floor. Can you take Shinsou?” 

Shinsou. Tokoyamis told you about him before. A friend from university, or something like that.

“The purple haired guy?”

“Yep.”

“Gosh, the famous friend I’ve heard so much about. You never mentioned he’s so cute.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sorry but. He’s got a little girlfriend texting thing going on.”

You tell him you were only joking and he just pushes you out to the front. You peek a look at Shinsou and he’s looking off into the distance. Deliciously so.

You check his order and it’s just a black coffee. Simple enough. You make quick work of the drink, humming something under your breath as the machine whirls to life. You write his name on the cup in sharpie, and fill it up, pressing the lid and slipping on a cover so he doesn’t burn his hands.

You walk up to the counter. “Hiya. You’re Shinsou? Tokoyami’s friend? He’s mentioned you before. All good things.” You smile as you slide the drink over.

And Shinsou looks back at you like you’ve got two heads. Or like you’re the most shocking thing he’s ever seen in your life. You step back a bit, slightly nervous at the shocked expression on his face.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, your smile falling a little.

“No. I mean yes! It’s-“ 

And it’s as he’s stuttering through his words you hear it. That voice. That same deep, smooth voice you’ve been flirting with over the phone. And you’re sure your face now looks like Shinsou is the most shocking thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Your face heats up and he doesn’t look shocked for much longer because that same unfairly attractive smirk graces his face.

He leans forward slightly. “Is this submission girl in the flesh?”

“Oh my god. IT guy?” 

His smirk widens into a grin. “I go by Shinsou, but. You can call me that too.” 

You roll your eyes to the side but you can’t help but keep them on him, an incredulous look on your face. “You were worried for us to meet? You’re fucking hot.” You say.

And he looks even better when the tops of his cheeks dust the slightest red. You smile, leaning forward on the counter. 

“Thank you. And you’re beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even in my gross work apron?”

“Especially in your gross apron, sweetheart.” 

You feel like giggling like you’re fourteen with a crush again. You brush a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re not working tonight, right?” You ask.

He shakes his head and purple locks of hair dance around his face. Slender fingers grab the cup and take a sip. 

“Perfect. We’re going out.”

Shinsou tilts his head to the side. “Shouldn’t I be asking you out? Seems much more traditional that way.”

“We met on our uni's customer service number. I don’t think anything about this is traditional.”

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guys i LAAAAUUUVVVVV shinsou and like he does not get enough attention or love or fics....... it makes me wanna scream

also this nearly took a steamy turn... with that cellular device.... but i did not because i cba

also i noticed that jason todd fics do so wel compared to my other stuff?? maybe cause hes not as popular but i will keep that in mind my people.

i hope u all enjoyed this! <3

[bisexualbrainrots]

sooo I was in the shower listening to dua lipa and got this idea. it could follow the kiss probably, but in short: oliver and lou had a fling but fought around november, they’ve been away since then and oliver traveled across the country, lou gets a call around the week he’s back in l.a.

The book wasn’t bad, not at all, but Lou was regretting the spur of the moment purchase of a self-help book. He tried to concentrate, he really did, but his mind kept drifting away to the same reason he bought the book in the first place.

He reached for his phone, about to log onto his Instagram, until he got a call incoming.

He was calling.

Lou cursed under his breath, Why haven’t I blocked his number yet? he thought

Because you still miss it.

Despite the way his body was screaming at him not to answer, he swiped green and put the phone on speaker, the book in his hands as he tried to get back to it.

“Hi”

He rolled his eyes, “And why the fuck are you calling now?”

Lou knew he sounded hostile, But what more could you ask when the last time they talked it was through an unresolved fight? When the asshole didn’t admit he had been in the wrong, when he didn’t want to admit that this pattern was damaging for both of them.

“Well nice to hear from you too Lou, I’m doing good, thanks”

There was no way he was going to concentrate on the damn book if he kept hearing that stupid voice. Lou threw the book on the bed and laid flat on it, feeling the softness of the duvet.

“Oliver I’m not in the mood to entertain whatever this is, What do you want?”

He heard a sigh and something else he couldn’t pick up on, but it didn’t matter to him.

It wasn’t supposed to matter.

“Okay, uh, Lou I was calling to apologize, like actually apologize”

Lou was baffled “And you wanna do this over the phone?”

Oliver scoffed “Hey at least I want to talk, you're the one who cut contact with me”

He ran his hands through his hair, this guy was making him crazy.

It’s true that Lou cut contact with Oliver after their fight, he thought it was the logical step. Who cares if they were sleeping together? Who cares if they’d spent months of their lives, an entire summer, learning all their weak spots and how their bodies moved? Who cares if Lou had ultimately caught feelings for somebody he knew was never going to reciprocate them?

“Yeah, because I thought I could trust you”

There was a silence a little too long, and Lou thought he had hung up.

“I’m sorry, okay? I-I know it was shitty of me to say all those things to you, and, I understand now you were struggling so much it’s just… I’m really sorry Lou”

He bit his lip, his eyes wide shut “You know what’s so fucked up about this?... I had to show you all the things they were saying about me so that you could believe it, a-and you knew about it”

“I didn’t know all of it Lou, I just—”

“You just what? Knew all your co stars were being harassed and did nothing? I get it, it’s not your job to defend me, but I thought that we… that I could be…” Lou sighed, feeling his eyes burn as he fluttered them open “I thought that the fact that we’d been fucking meant something to you”

He heard a hitch in Oliver’s breath and a muttered “Of course it meant something Lou, for fucks’ sake” 

“Then why… forget it, I’ll hang up”

“No! Please, Lou, bloody hell you’re like a mule sometimes” he sounded exasperated, like Lou was the most stubborn person he’d ever met.

Lou blinked “That is not making it any harder for me to hang up, jerk”

He heard a deep breath “Look, after we ended things I did something… I traveled”

Lou frowned “Like abroad? I mean, good for you if that’s—”

“No, not fucking abroad, I… went across states on my van”

Now Lou was confused, a surprised laugh escaped him “You what?”

He could see it though. The mental image of Oliver travelling across the country with a car, his camera and a dream made him smile, which quickly turned into a frown as he realized what he was doing.

“Yeah, I don't know, I just… I wanted to be in with my thoughts for a while” any other day Lou would've rolled his eyes at the phrasing, but right now he was intrigued “And I thought that traveling on a van would be good a-and it was… and so I had time to think, about us”

Lou sat up on his bed, looking intensely at his phone “And?” he asked, elongating the word.

He heard a nervous chuckle “God, I miss you, I miss… this, and I know I was an arse there's no doubt about that, but it's just… I'm really sorry”

Lou clenched his hand around his shirt. It was all so painful still, avoiding Oliver for over a month only helped to bury his feelings, but it was like burying them in sand. And now the ocean was bringing it back to the surface.

“Lou, you there?”

“Y-yeah it's just… shit, I miss you too”

He was a weak man, there's no other explanation for what he was doing. 

Lou knew Oliver was smiling on the other side, he could just feel the corners of his lips curling up and his teeth showing through the phone call. And it was making him feel things.

Things he hadn't allowed himself to feel for weeks.

“If you wanted, maybe we could meet up one day, and have a better conversation than this” Lou nodded, even though Oliver could not see his face. 

“Okay, sure”

He heard Oliver exhale deeply, like he had finally found a bit of peace after all this time. Lou was envious of that. 

“Lou?”

He hummed as a reply, loud enough for him to hear, as he laid back on his bed. His cheek resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you miss it sometimes?”

He frowned, looking intently at his phone “Miss what?”

“My hands on your body”

He heard the record scratch in his brain, feeling a little… offended? Conflicted? Aroused?

Aroused was definitely in there, but his pride was stronger at that moment. 

“Oliver are you serious—” he stopped when heard a groan that made him grip at the bed “What are you– Oliver”

“I’m not really doing anything, just… reminiscing” he pulled his reading glasses up to his head and covered his face with his hands when he heard that voice, the one Oliver did whenever he wanted to get something from him. 

Which always ended up being related to his dick somehow. 

Lou pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head at the ideas that were forming in it, “You cannot just… damn it Oliver, where are you even?” 

Oliver chuckled, now he really wanted to punch him “I’m seated and safe if that answers your question”

“It really does not” he threw a short laugh, letting his hands rest on his belly “... What are you wearing?”

He was just a man in the end, a weak one, but a man nonetheless.

Oliver's soft laugh felt like music to his ears “Just, a simple shirt and sweatpants… nothing under if you were asking yourself that”

“I was not, thank you very much” he sighed, his hands finding their way under his shirt, caressing his happy trail “I do miss it”

“W-what?”

“I… I miss your hands on me, I miss your body and the way you used to say my name, Oli”

He hasn't called him like that in a long time.

“Fuck, Lou… I miss all of that too, I-I really miss all of you it's… fuckin' hell” he heard a hitch in Oliver's voice, and now Lou was definitely wondering what was going on on the other side of the line. 

So he pressed.

“Touch yourself Oli, over your clothes” he heard a whine on the other side and chuckled “Now that's another thing I missed about you, I missed hearing you desperate for it” 

His own hands traveled to his crotch, pressing on it with the heels. His toes curled when he heard a moan come out of Oliver.

“Shit, I… I'm not desperate” he liked to do that, to fight Lou off and bicker until the only thing they could do to shut the other up was with their mouths.

“Sure you aren't”

“W-where are you right now, Lou?” he looked around, appreciating the fact that he was completely alone at the moment. 

“My bed, obviously, I was actually trying to read a book when you called” there was a pause on the other line.

“You have your reading glasses on?” Lou adjusted the glasses and smiled, remembering the times Oliver had seen him with them on. 

“Yup” he said, exaggerating the p sound.

Oliver groaned “God, you look so hot with those glasses, makes me want to…”

Lou smiled as he heard the soft sigh come out of Oliver’s mouth. The younger had a thing for Lou’s glasses and it was sort of endearing. Even though it always ended up with the older’s soul getting sucked through his dick, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t manage. Sometimes he put them on on purpose, just to tease.

Lou took off his shirt, his body heat making the layer of fabric feel uncomfortable “Touch me? Fuck me?” one of his hands went up to his chest, caressing the area.

There was a whimper, and Lou moaned softly at the sound “Fuck, yes, I just… I just want to feel you once again Lou”

“You could if you were here”

Oliver snickered, “Is that an invitation?”

Lou rolled his eyes, smiling playfully “Not unless you find a way to convince me that is a good idea” the thought of the younger coming to his place made him sigh in content, arching his back as he lowered his pyjama pants down to his thighs. His free hand went towards his hard cock, and started to jerk himself off.

“The thought of me inside of you wouldn't be convincing enough?”

He moaned loudly, throwing his head back on his pillows as his hips rolled against his hand, going a little faster at the idea “Oliver… fuck”. The images of the younger lifting his hips to get a better angle and touching every part of his body made him squirm.

“What are you doing right now Lou?” Oliver’s voice reached a new level of deep, making Lou rock his hips with an intensity that made the bed squeak.

“Fucking my fist Oli, I also… I also don't have my shirt on” he cursed under his breath when he heard a needy sound come straight out of Oliver's throat. He smiled knowingly, the fact is that the younger also had an interest in the older's chest, the dozens of bruises he left in the past were proof of it.

“God… grab your pec Lou, do it like I would, c'mon” 

He did so, grabbing one of them with a tight grasp and then kneading it like dough as he stimulated his nipple. 

“Oli… Oliver I don't know if your hand's still over your clothes but pull your dick out, fuck, I want to hear you”

“Lou— shit, ah, okay yeah I'm… fucking hell, I want to be there with you Lou, you have no fucking idea what I'd do to you” a wet sound made Lou's eye roll and bite his lip in a way that made him taste blood, his palm slick as it was being covered with precum.

“I know you’d love to be here Oliver… to have your head between my legs as I fill your throat with me, and you'd… you…” He couldn't find the words, the pleasure making his brain melt out of his ears.

“I’d let you fuck my throat Lou, pull my hair and keep me there until you’re satisfied”

Lou moaned loudly, blabbering a trail of yes yes yes as he stilled his hips up, pumping his cock with a firm grip.

“... Then I'd fill you up, fucking you until you come a second time, fuck, h-how would you want to take me Lou?” Oliver's breathing was agitated, he was close, so close, and Lou was too.

Lou whined “Riding you in reverse, bouncing on your cock while you leave marks up to my shoulders— holy shit, I-I’m gonna come”

“Come for me Lou, c'mon do it baby”

And the pet name does it. He arches his back so much it could snap, and comes in a guttural scream, spilling all over his hand and lower belly as his body spasms. He rides the orgasm wave as he hears the loudest moan come out of Oliver, and milks himself dry. 

“Did you… did you just call me…?” his chest was heaving, body covered in a layer of sweat as he stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded.

“I did, yeah… w-was that okay?” Lou's cheeks blushed. They had never called each other by any pet names, too intimate for the kind of relationship they had. 

He smiled and looked at the phone before taking his leap “Baby… I like it, would you like that I—”

“Call me like that, please” Lou heard Oliver sigh, and it only made his smile grow wider. 

They were idiots.

Lou sat up, leaning towards the nightstand and opening the drawer to take the toilet paper he kept for situations like this. He cleaned himself and giggled as Oliver complained about his cum stained clothes “Hey, you could've taken them off like I did Oli”

He heard a grunt and knew the younger was probably rolling his eyes, “Maybe, but I—” a noise made Lou frown, and he turned off the speaker, pulling their phone towards his ear to listen well, without much success. 

“What was that?” he asked when the younger returned to talk to him..

Oliver chuckled nervously “Oh, just… one of your neighbors”

“What?!” Lou looked out the window as he straightened up, wide-eyed “Where are you?”

“In my van” he sounded embarrassed, and Lou couldn’t really blame him, even though it all felt unbelievable to him.

“Oliver… you've been outside this whole time?”

Oliver chuckled “Can’t seem to stay away, right?”

He laughed, almost hysterically. He couldn't believe the younger had been there this whole time instead of knocking down his door. Though he supposed it made sense, in a weird way that he understood.

He doesn’t think he would’ve dared to knock on Oliver’s door had the tables been turned.

Once he’s calmed he pulled up his pants and walked out of his bedroom “Come in”

“Oh I will, baby” Lou rolled his eyes but laughed softly, shaking his head as he approached his front door.

“Shut up”

And they were back to where they left, tangled bodies and whispers in their ears.

Neither of them knows if the cycle will repeat, or if they’ve found a way to break it. All they know is that they couldn’t stay away from each other for too long.

Not even if they could help it.

read on AO3.

[heavenpierceher]

just played portal 2 for the first time yes somehow ive never played it before. reposting my thoughts as i played here:

I fucking hate wheatley. Little white cuck ball

As i understand it wheatley turns out to be like Secretly Evil later or whatever but like he’s so blatantly passive aggressive and casually shitty to you that i don’t see how anyone didn’t go okay fuck this guy immediately. Like he’s clearly acting as a sort of arm of aperture itself which constantly bombards you with like jokingly ableist/eugenicist/classist/misogynistic shit

like the juxtaposition of him being a huge asshole because he thinks you have brain damage and the announcer being like ‘ok if you’re old or stupid go back to your Primitive Tribe so we can have Good Subjects for Progress’ is 110% deliberate

also him assuming the person who killed glados was male LMAO

I want glados so bad

Some arasaka tower shit is happening to me

My psionic warriors find me art of chell dribbling and dunking wheatley like a basketball

Glados wants me so bad

my coworker losing his mindddddd 😂 😂 😂

I’m finding these puzzles easier than portal 1 but like in a good way. more intuitive

Also this has almost certainly been said before at length but god valve is so so so good at environmental design

HL is really good too obviously but it really shines in portal where they get to play with contrasts

the really harsh visual contrast between all of portal and the escape stages and the fact that you can see hints of it before it happens. chefs kiss

Single biggest visual improvement: the scary fucked up water that kills you

Yeah I do wish id played this earlier LMAO

glados hums me beautiful songs

I’m imagining that literally none of this is landing for chell like she doesn’t care. and/or glados is just making shit up and so chell also doesn’t care

wheres the dev thing where they were like ‘chell doesn’t talk because she’s just fucking pissed’

She's literally obsessed with me

Genuinely why does anyone like wheatley I'm gonna crush this little shit like a soda can

Guy accuses a woman who has literally never spoken to him or responded to a thing hes said of being bossy

At least the ways in which cave johnson sucks are really funny

i was talking about how wheatley is kind of a stand-in for aperture as an entity and i think cj is a continuation of that. like the above screenshot lines up as being an evolution of cj’s distaste for the ‘lab boys’ and ‘bean counters’; a top-down disdain for the people actually making ‘progress’ possible and keeping things running

me when i have 60 dollars

Valve in particular has a way of making its social commentary so pointed and over the top that its funniness almost but not quite overshadows the point it’s making. In a good way let me be clear

Like it’s so ridiculous you almost forget it’s criticizing/interrogating real phenomena that it’s honestly not depicting that absurdly because everything is very very intentional

i like the idea of chell being like. essentially an ordinary uninvolved person as much as she can be just thematically. glados is petty in the way that humans are petty, she chooses insults that are like… low-hanging fruit because of the environment she was cultivated in, so i think it’s both funnier and more thematically resonant if chell is like. Not even a little bit emotionally affected by glados fucking with her she’s just like Get me out of hereeeeee

A lot of people’s theories about this game seem to rely on glados being truthful which is fucking hilarious

woman who is making shit up to fuck with you: I am making shit up to fuck with you gamers: goly FUCK theory #CONFIRMED?????????????

aw hell no not the aperture science ejaculation gel

Wheatley can you quit jacking off over mic. Genuinely discusses me I hope he explodes

I do not want him to experience pleasure in any form much less as a result of my actions

The fucked up turretcubes are very cute though. Like hermitcrabs

Oh hey it’s the part where he kills me

this is a really good visual gag

Genuinely how does anyone admit to wanting to fuck wheatley how is that not an incredibly embarrassing thing to admit to

how sexist the adventure sphere is was funny and again it is not common for me to say that. valve just knows what they're doing

She’s holding my hand…

Rent free in her fucking head

Rent. Free.

Literally obsessed with me.

I don’t think it’s supposed to do this but it’s on a black screen with no options and has been for like five minutes and i sat there for the entire five minutes like ‘wow this is so poignant…’

Anyway yeah that kicked ass

[magicalrocketships]

i looooved your last fic so much it was such a lovely holiday gift thank you so much for sharing it with us ❤️

i’m curious about what are your thoughts on what happens after the end and if and how they reconnect and live happily ever after in australia

oh thank you!! I have got lots and lots to say about what happens after the fic. I had to stop myself from writing more because the scope of that fic is about them wanting and needing change and acknowledging what it is they want (each other, to be happy, for the other person to be happy, for their lives to change). And it was too big a jump to just be like, yeah, [time skip] this is how their hearts settle permanently together. But they do ❤️ Spoilers within.

So.

There's a lot Max has to deal with in the Netherlands - he has the inheritance from his dad of the karting track, and his dad's house, and the life insurance, and he hates the house because of the bad memories, and he wants a relationship with his sister and more of one with his mum. Practical things he has to do, and things he has to build. But he ends up selling the house because he hates walking into it let alone standing in it, and it turns out in this that Victoria wants to be involved in the karting track so they decide for them to co-own it, and Victoria takes over running it.

And Daniel starts to get himself sorted, because he's been dealing with this kind of ebb and flow of really low lows for so long that it's hard to manage it evening out over time. Moves out of his shitty house share (with Max's help when he comes over to stay, clearing out the bottom drawer of underutilised sex toys before Daniel's parents show up with some boxes) (also there's the photo that Daniel stole off the fridge when he first left Max, folded into a notebook in his top drawer).

Anyway they end up buying the karting track in Perth that they visit at the very end of the fic, and Daniel doesn't have any money to invest in it but Max still makes them co-owners because they're starting their life together and sharing shit now. And [immigration stuff hand wave because they're married and trying again] Max moves out to Perth on a pretty permanent basis and moves into the flat that comes with the track, and Daniel to all intents and purposes stays there 99% of the time but his permanent toothbrush and not his visitor toothbrush is the one at his mum and dad's (AT FIRST) because he is scared it will all go wrong again.

Spoiler it does not go wrong again

Anyway Daniel gets to mentor young drivers in a smaller version of his rl karting scheme and he fucking loves it, like working with kids and teenagers and karting and running his own place with Max makes him come alive again and he's just loving it. And Max never stops thinking about that young carers charity, and he runs regular events for young carers to come and kart and he aggressively raises funds for the charity and for one at home in the Netherlands that partners with the track Victoria runs. And he goes to the Christmas tree stand in the shopping centre every Christmas to buy presents for the kids.

And: Max figures out he loves e-sports. He gets to stream and be really fucking great at it, and Daniel starts small with a range of t-shirts based off of the karting track and because people like Scotty come and do instagram stuff at the track and in his shirts they start to take off in their own way too.

Basically at first they're not very good at the things they need to be very good at (talking about shit and admitting when they're feeling sad/bad/mad etc instead of pretending everything's fine) but it's okay because they just want to be together and find a life for themselves that isn't so sad and they both just want to be happy. And neither of them are strangers to fighting for what they want, it just got lost somewhere under the weight of everything else.

[jenjensd]

Do you ever just get irrationally Fucking angry at absolute bullshit that doesn’t deserve it?

[alliumdykes]

The fact that when I came back from the cinema wanting to see some cool art and people talking about interesting stuff after something so flipin awesome and the first thing i see was the dream team being so fucking rude during a CHARITY EVENT for their DEAD FRIEND is honestly so disheartening.

My grandfather was so lucky to get cancer twice and survive both times, I knew someone who lost her dad to cancer. I know someone who survived childhood cancer. One of my great grandparents died of cancer, my family on both sides is extremely family oriented if he never died I would have met him. The fucking disrespect that they showed should not be laughed at, it shouldn’t be encouraged.

The fact they were playing airhorns during Technodad’s speech, one that should have been respected and really quiet durning and no one interrupting is the fucking worse. I don’t care if dteam fans say that it’s funny and Techno would have laughed because it’s not the fucking point!!!

The whole festival was a charity event in honour of their friend, and for Technodad his fucking son. No one should have gone though this. I don’t care if this comes across as rude or overreacting because the dteam need to grow the fuck up and learn that their actions have fucking consequences for once.

This isn’t supporting a brand that’s actually a scam, this isn’t saying something offensive by accident. This is being rude and disrespectful.

And it even hurts that none of their fans are going to care a single bit because I don’t fucking know maybe they’ll say “but it was a joke” or “dream has ADHD your being ableist” because none of that shit matters when you realise that neither of those things matter when it’s about respect.

These are the same fans who will defend these mother fuckers to the grave but when someone like Niki Niahchu accidentally uses avae because she doesn’t know about American history or what avae is because she lives in Germany(or any non American country because the world doesn’t revolve around you fuckers) and is called overreactive during mcc and having a lot of stress put onto her and BREAKS DOWN ON STREAM it’s ok because they think it is.

I want dteam fans to see this post and be uncomfortable, I don’t care if I’m being mean to your pretty white boys because they have been allowed to do anything with a platform that is way to big for them for too long. I’m allowed to be angry as well, I’m allowed to be mean, I’m not apologising to you if you feel sad that I’m being mean about them because they need to grow up.

Charlie had every right to tell dream to shut up during that stream.

Edit: I’m not going to be answering anymore asks about this post, I want my blog to be a personal space for me. This post wasn’t supposed to get as big as it has and just for me to rant. I’m only going to be accepting art requests and general asks and nothing about this. I’m 14 please leave me alone.

[godblooded]

just an fyi, and it feels like it needs to be said here: your blog is your own space and you should be able to say whatever the fuck you want. if you’re sad? vent. get sad. maybe put it under a cut, definitely tag it, but get sad. if you feel like you need someone to talk to? drop a freaking message about how you’re feeling like you could use a buddy, or anything randomly engaging. if you’re having a hard time, you should feel safe and okay to talk about it in your own space. we’re writers and we’re people and while there’s a lot to be said for how engagement outside of oneself is necessary in rp (and really really needs to improve), i think there’s a lot that must be said about people reaching out to others. it’s become so solitary here — the whole ‘reblog from source’ thing when it comes to shit like about and musings is absurd. the whole refusing to like things is ridiculous. yes, curate your space, that’s important, but curating your space into a studio apartment only you live in doesn’t make this a community anymore, it makes it a studio apartment you live in.

just be yourself here. do whatever you want. but i’m always saying: remember you’re not alone, and don’t let yourself feel that way.

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[snowbunnytrick]

(Not og anon) I agree with separating the art from the artist and pirating music but it seems like you still buy merch/go to shows/like these people genuinely?

well msi has been dead for years so i’m never gonna get to go to one of their shows anyway but i think pete could bring a loaded ak-47 into an all-girls catholic school and go to town and i’d still suck him fat and dirty so when it comes to faII out boy specifically i have to admit that it’s a bit of a moral failing on my part

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

I’ll never understand how a man I’ve begged to leave can pretend like I’m holding him hostage. I do, regrettably, need his support, and yet I’ve actively begged him to go over and over and over again, because I’d rather be homeless then live with this threat hanging over my head, and still, he doesn’t leave, and he pretends like he’s some god-tier husband and father, and I’m the nagging, helpless bitch of a wife who won’t put out, doesn’t appreciate his efforts, never lets him have a moment of peace, and is actively keeping him here against his will, killing him with some misery I’ve forced upon him, as if he’d allow me that kind of power.

[mazzy-rockstar]

Monday blues are hitting me hard today

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Finally properly sobbing after not being able to cry all day is such a great feeling

[catwouthats]

Me realizing that hospital visits and diagnoses can prevent me from doing things like getting hired and adopting kids almost as much as jail/prison visits would

[okcoolthanks]

I feel like my family’s getting sick of me

[catzgam3rz]

Life delivers me the weirdest gifts at the weirdest times

I’ve thought for almost two years I had lost one of my first pieces of Ranboo merch and just accepted that I’d never see it again

And then???? It just fucking appeared??? In a hamper???????? Out of nowhere?????

The universe sends blockmen in moments of need ig