Catching Jaren (Smii7y) reading your son to sleep (drabble)
The house was quiet except for the soft creak of the rocking chair down the hallway. You padded towards the nursery, brushing a hand down your pajama shirt, and stopped in the doorway.
There he was — Jaren, or Smii7y to the rest of the world, looking every bit the loving father that only you and your baby got to witness. The faint glow of the nightlight bathed the room in amber warmth, and in its glow you watched as he read quietly from a picture book.
Your eight–month–old was tucked in the crook of his arm, tiny hand resting on Jaren’s chest, long lashes fluttering as the sound of his voice lulled them closer to sleep. “And then,” he murmured softly, brushing the page with a finger, “the little bear found its way home, right where it belonged.
Your heart swelled, rooted in the doorway, unable to move. The sound of Jaren’s voice — the same voice that rang out through headphones across countless — was softer tonight, reserved just for this tiny person in his arms. You smiled, brushing a hand across your own chest, brushing away the sting of happy tears.
He glanced up then, a quiet smile spreading across his face when he spotted you. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing a finger down the baby’s nose. “We’ve got an almost–sleeping bear here.”
You stepped closer, resting a hand on Jaren’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re a good storyteller,” you said softly, brushing hair out of his eyes.
He smiled shyly, looking down at the tiny miracle nestled in the blanket. “For this little one? Always.”
And in that moment, surrounded by soft whispers and tiny snores, the whole world felt quiet, warm, and right.
AN just something to keeps yall waiting for more fics, based off this video where he’s reading
REQUEST- Yo this might be kinda odd but could u do some angst with will and maybe like he has another seizure or something and ends up in the hospital and the reader has to stay with him,,, so it would kinda end up as fluff anyway :) ok thanks
Hi, hello!
My first Will request on this new blog - thank you so much for coming here and sending it in, lovely! Fingers crossed that this hits well and more ideas and requests come in because this is a new venture that I’m pretty excited about and I hope it does well.
Enjoy! x
YN didn’t hate a lot of things.
She disliked a lot of things and kept a mental list of anything and everything that had become a pet peeve of hers during the course of her life, especially as she endured adult life with the rollercoaster of ups and downs, but she never found herself at a point where she hated anything. Hatred was a strong word for her vocabulary and she didn’t use it lightly, never chucked it around whenever she voiced an opinion of something and she rarely used it in a jokey term... she needed a reason to hate something, or someone, and there had never been anything that tipped her over the edge.
But when it came to hospitals, with the linoleum floor and the smell of anti-bacterial hand-wash and the ominous silences that were filled with distant wails and cries and the intense sirens screaming from the ambulances arriving out front, then she would happily say she hated the place without a personal reason needed. They scared her (and she could probably thank her mother for that - the woman was obsessed with hospital dramas and all things doctor-related), they made her feel worried and nervous and all she could find herself doing is panicking if any one of her friends or family had checked into one or had been close enough to spend a night in there, let alone an hour.
So finding herself in the Royal London Hospital, closing in on midnight on a Friday night, was not where she had planned to be at the end of her day.
She’d known for the entirety of the week that Will was having a lad’s night out with his friends from university because it’s all he spoke about, every minute of the day. Their breakfast, lunch and dinner conversations were full of him chatting about what their plans were and how he couldn’t wait to see them after so long of being apart, how he couldn’t wait to introduce her to them as the girl who he was completely and utterly loved up with and how he was eager for them to share stories to prove to her he wasn’t such a bad bloke in his teen years and that she’d definitely had fawned and swooned for him if they’d known one another back then. She definitely would have, thanks to his mum for sharing the ever-so delightful puberty spurt he had growing up, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She’d known they were going for a drink, for a meal and that they were off to see the film in the cinema that he’d been desperate to watch for weeks (one that he wanted to watch with her but had been turned away once she saw the rather ominous, rather horror-fulled title poster for it).
What she didn’t know was that the scenes in the movie were triggering to someone like Will, who couldn’t handle insane amounts of blood and gore happening all at one, and that her easy-breezy day would soon end with her panic-stricken mind driving her crazy.
“Come sit over here,” Will croaked from his position on the bed, his hand holding a plastic cup of water whilst his other patted the empty space beside his hip, “please? You’re too far away. You look lonely over there.”
“I’m not talking to you, William,” YN grumbled, barely looking up from her phone as the screen kept her face illuminated; she was no doubt texting their friends to keep them updated because, even thought they insisted they’d wait, they’d been escorted home due to not being immediate family. “I’m angry with you. Let me be angry with you.”
“Can’t be too angry. You’re sat in the hospital with me,” he said.
His eyes stared at the top her head, full of hope that she’d look up and see just how fragile and soft and desperate he was for some loving, some affection, after the terrifying moment of a seizure, mid-film and in a room filled with avid horror fans who would most likely laugh in the face of emergency. He could see the knots that had formed in her hair after the drive from Canary Wharf to RLH, tendrils falling down the sides of her face as loose hairs fell from the messy ponytail she’d chucked her hair up into, her nails bitten and hang-nails bleeding from where she’d bitten and chewed out of pure anxiety. He recognised the black hoodie drowning her upper body and the grey joggers, that would usually be tucked into the bottom drawer of his wardrobe because they were too small for him, rolled up at her ankles. Except she didn’t look up and continued tapping her thumbs against her phone, no doubt moving onto his mum to explain just how much of a fool her son was.
“Please come and sit with me, babe.”
Silence fell through the room.
It was achingly silent, with the distant chatter coming from the nurses passing outside the room and the monitor beeping beside him at a consistent speed, and he hated it. That was the one thing he hated; her silent treatment after he’d done something stupid enough to put him in danger - and he got that plenty of times.
“I’m sorry, okay? It wasn’t my fault but I’m sorry,” he said softly, head rolling back against the pillow behind his shoulders. He felt water slosh from the side of the cup, dampening the white sheet covering him from his hips to his toes, eyes closing to shield his vision from the bright lights above him. “I didn’t know it was going to be that bad. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have suggested we go and watch it.”
“You could have had an idea,” she scoffed, thumb pressing the lock button on her phone. She looked at him but not like he wanted her to. Her eyes were full of all kinds of emotions; anger, sadness, frustration, tiredness, happiness. All running mad behind her drooping eyes. “You knew it was a horror film by the poster. By the title. For God sake, Will. You must have had some idea.”
“It was a stupid idea,” he sighed, “the trailer never showed the gruesome parts. I though it was going to be a safe one.”
He brought his head up and looked in her direction when the heaviest scoff left her throat, rough and scratchy and almost tear-filled, hands braced on her knees as she pushed up and stood to her feet, tugging on the sleeves of the hoodie to cover her hands. He thought she was going home, and he wouldn’t have blamed her (he didn’t want her to either so he was desperate, pleading with his eyes, for her feet to move in his direction), but her bag stayed put and her feet took her just where he wanted her to go. Her features rigid, set hard upon her face, but eyes so soft and full of upset.
“A stupid idea, for sure,” she frowned, close enough to push a fist into his calf, “you’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“A massive idiot. You’re going to put me in here one day because you’re such a massive idiot,” she hissed, although her actions seemed to mock her tone of voice as she perched herself down beside him and squeezed his hand, “say it so I know you understand.”
He smirked, “I’m a massive idiot and I don’t deserve to have someone as lovely and supportive as you in my life. You look after me and I-”
“Alright, shut up now,” she rolled her eyes and laced her fingers through his, taking his water from him and placing it beside the jug, “don’t scare me like this ever again. I mean it.” xx
Summary: Based on a prompt from a lovely anon. The reader has a thing for Dan and draws him in pretty much all of her free time. One day she isn't paying attention and Dan sees what she’s drawing and finally puts the pieces together.
A/N: First Danisnotonfire x Reader! Hope you like it!
----------
Have you ever had one of those moments where you see something and it just inspires you?
Well, that's me. Except, I haven't lost that inspiration. I just couldn't put my pencil down. I'd draw for hours on end, spending pretty much all my free time with my sketchbook. But I couldn't help it. Ever since that spark of inspiration, the fire that came after hasn't gone out.
"That's what I call motivation," Dan had said one time. We had been sitting on the couch watching some anime on Netflix. Well, he and Phil were watching. I was too busy drawing. Him, to be more precise.
Yes, Dan Howell, the British YouTube sensation, was my inspiration. Has been ever since I met him. And he had absolutely no clue.
"I think it's more mysterious," Phil said as he walked into the room, balancing three cups of steaming hot chocolate in his hands. He reached out to hand me one. "How come you never show anyone what you draw?"
I took the cup from him and shrugged, "I dunno. Never had the need to."
Phil nodded in understanding as he gave Dan a mug and settled back down on the sofa to watch Netflix again. I took a sip of the hot chocolate and continued to draw. I glanced up at "my inspiration" and saw him smile at the tv. I smiled too, and continued drawing.
We somehow managed to watch 4 straight hours of Netflix before anyone realized the time and I decided I'd better go home. It wasn't too far, I lived in the same building.
"Same time tomorrow night right?" Dan asked as he saw me to the door after I said goodbye to Phil.
"Of course," I answered.
"Good." He smiled, "See you then."
"See you then." I nodded my head slightly. "Well g'night!" I chuckled as I turned and left for my apartment. I don't even know why I even bothered having an apartment. I spent more time at Dan and Phil's than I did mine.
A few weeks later, I was sitting on their sofa again. Dan and Phil were still recording a video for their gaming channel when I came over. Not wanting to disturb them, I waited and decided to draw a bit.
"Hey Y/N! When did you come in?" Phil asked as he suddenly came in the room.
"A few minutes ago. Are you guys done?" I asked.
"Yep! Just finished. But I have to go get some milk. I used the last of it this morning. You don't mind waiting do you?" He was referring to the Disney movie marathon we had planned for the night. And a Disney movie marathon isn't complete without hot chocolate.
"No, I don't mind. Go ahead. Can't make hot chocolate without milk!"
"Right!"
After Phil left the apartment was quiet. Dan never came in but as he probably didn't know I was here, he was probably editing the video they had just recorded. I didn't bother to go check. Instead, I continued to work on the nearly complete Dan drawing. It actually didn't turn out too bad. I liked it.
"Heyyy Y/N," a voice said suddenly, one I recognized quickly as Dan's.
I turned my head and saw him standing at the door behind me. He was looking right at my drawing.
I jumped up off the couch faster than I thought I could, sketchbook in hand, "I can explain!"
"Actually that was really good," he chuckled, "But why me?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't come up with an answer. How was I supposed to say, "Oh, I've been drawing you for the past few months, because I like you as more than a friend but didn't know how to say it so I just drew you a bunch of different times" without sounding like a complete psycho?
At first, he was confused, at least he looked like he was. Then he looked like it all made sense. Oh no. This was it. He was going to ask me to leave. That he thought I was weird and that we shouldn't be friends anymore.
He took a deep breath and said, "Can I just kiss you already? Because honestly, I've wanted to for so long."
Silence.
Did he just?
Did he just say what I think he said? That he?
Next thing I knew, I had dropped my sketchbook to the floor and I had moved over to stand right in front of Dan. We had the same idea and we leaned in at the same time.
I was kissing Dan Howell. And he was kissing me.
He reached his hand up and moved some hair away from my face and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
It was Phil racing back into the room that broke us apart suddenly. "Hey guys I got the.."
Startled at our friend's appearance, Dan and I broke the kiss and turned to see Phil looking completely speechless as he held a carton of milk.
"Uh, we can explain," I started.
A smile soon replaced Phil's look of shock and he said, "It's about time!"
"Wait, you knew?” Dan asked curiously.
"It was obvious!" Phil chuckled.
Smiling, I turned around and picked up my abandoned sketchbook. "I guess since it's out now you can see the rest of my drawings if you want."
"Were all your drawings of me?" Dan asked.
"Maybe." I winked.
"I'd love to see them," he replied.
"I'm gonna go make the hot chocolate! You guys wanna set up the TV?" Phil asked.
"Sure thing, Philly." Dan said and we watched Phil leave the room for the kitchen.
I looked over to Dan. He was already looking at me. Without a word, our lips locked once again.
"5 pounds says you'll still be kissing when I come back!" Phil hollered from the other room.
Laughing quietly to myself as we pulled away from each other, I said to Dan, "You're totally gonna be out 5 pounds.”
Warnings: The reader is pretty stressed out and pessimistic.
Summary: Based on a request from a lovely anon. The reader has a job interview with Pixar and she is really nervous and stressed out about it. Mark tries to comfort her and help her keep calm. Fluff.
A/N: Another Markiplier x Reader! Hope you all enjoy and I hope I did your request justice nonny!
----------
"Deep breaths," Mark whispered in my ear as he hugged me. "Deep breaths."
I couldn't stop shaking. I had the opportunity for a job interview with Pixar. Pixar. It was insane. The thought alone of working for Pixar was mind boggling. I had the chance! Right here!
The only problem was that I'd had so long to think about and prepare for this interview that I became more stressed about it than excited. My mind had gotten the best of me and I'd convinced myself I wouldn't get the job. I had the chance of a lifetime right in front of me and I could not see a bright side. I mean, come on, what even are the chances of working at Pixar?
"You're gonna do fine, Y/N. I believe in you." Mark leaned in to kiss my forehead, but I stepped away, shaking my head.
"No I won't. I'm not good enough. They're gonna hate me. I know it." I ran my hands through my already messy hair as I turned away from Mark.
Mark put a hand on my shoulder, "What's wrong? You were so excited when you found out about this a few weeks ago." He was talking about when I first told him there was an opening and they were looking for new artists. And he was right, I was excited then. It had been a dream of mine to work at Pixar since I was 10 years old.
I had already had an interview over the phone, and that went well I would say. After that, they told me they wanted to have another, in person, interview. That was two weeks ago.
The interview was today. In less than an hour. I was not ready.
"I'm sure they will choose you. They'd be dumb not to."
I turned back around to face Mark, his face held a concerned look, "What do I do if they don't?"
"Y/N, you will be fine. If you don't get the job, we'll figure it out. But you're the one who told me the chances of even getting a second interview are what?"
"Like 1 in a million," I mumbled.
"What? I didn't catch that."
"1 in a million," I repeated, louder. I smiled slightly but rolled my eyes.
He walked forward and embraced me once again, "Your art is amazing. You'll get the job."
--------
A few hours later, the interview had ended and I arrived back home. I quietly closed the front door behind me and listened to hear if Mark was home. He said he had to go get stuff for a video he was recording today.
Faint screaming from down the hall indicated he was home doing God knows what. I laughed and settled in the living room, waiting for him to finish recording.
It wasn't that long before boyfriend entered the room, a bit more disheveled than usual after recording a video. One glance at him and I knew what he'd been doing. "Waxing again?"
Cue the long sigh, "Yep."
"Why?" I questioned, trying not to laugh. Oh the things he subjected himself to.
"Why do I do anything?"
"Good point."
"Sooooo...." He plopped down in the empty seat next to me and smiled. "How'd it go??"
