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@whatinthefreshhellisthis
same energy
pls i need him
Childhood friend reader who goes blind slowly over the course of growing up? Like starts losing vision at 5, fully blind by 18.
Reader childhood friend being their defender at school, walking them home from school every day hand in hand, eventually their first blind-friendly teenage date night (maybe a home-cooked dinner? Or maybe going to a local concert)
I wonder how a yandere would react to their darling being so vulnerable? Not just a random stranger could steal you from him, but also something as simple as a wet floor.
I also imagine him staring down people in public that are rude to reader, while showing none of it in his voice. Like if he catches a guy leering, it's ice in his eyes but voice warm like a summer day.
You don't need to know how ugly the world is, if he can possibly hide it from you
🫣
Yandere Guide x Blind Reader
You’re five the first time the world dims.
It happens in a quiet, almost forgettable way. You blink at the sun too long and can’t see the chalk lines on the playground anymore. You think it’s a game at first—close one eye, then the other. But something doesn’t quite come back.
When your parents bring you to the doctor, you’re swinging your feet beneath the exam table, more fascinated by the rubber hammer than the gravity of the tests being done. The diagnosis is clinical, cold, and incomprehensible to your young mind: a degenerative condition. Your vision will fade slowly, year by year, until it’s gone.
You’re too young to understand.
Ezra is sitting beside you, swinging his feet too, but his shoulders are stiff, his fingers clenched so tightly on the arm of the chair that his knuckles go white. When your mother starts crying, Ezra doesn’t look away like the doctor does. He watches her. And then, he turns to you and takes your hand like he’s done since you were toddlers.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll see for both of us.”
Years pass.
You start to forget the precise colors of things. Your drawings become less defined, more abstract, until you stop drawing altogether. Reading becomes a chore. Eventually, someone teaches you Braille, but it doesn’t feel the same. The books don’t smell like they used to. You can’t lose yourself in the margins anymore.
But Ezra is there. Every day.
He walks you home from school, hand in hand. He learns to read Braille faster than you do, just so he can tutor you. You don’t know this, but he stays up late at night, fingertips raw from running over dotted pages again and again until he gets it right. He never tells you how hard he works. He just smiles that gentle smile of his when you praise him for being such a good teacher.
He’s your shield at school. When kids stare too long, or whisper cruel things, you hear Ezra’s voice—light, calm, always kind. But what you never hear is the way he stares back at them, like a wolf staring down prey. You never see the way people flinch under his gaze. He never lets you see it.
The world is getting darker for you. But it’s never anything less than warm when he’s near.
By the time you're fifteen, your vision is mostly light and color. Vague shapes. A world painted in blurred watercolor.
You begin to understand how dangerous things can be. A single step on uneven pavement, a misjudged curb. Once, you fall on a slick cafeteria floor, and you cry. You hear the snickering before someone helps you up.
But Ezra’s already behind you, pulling you gently to your feet, whispering, “Don’t listen to them.”
You listen to him.
Later, the boy who laughed at you gets suspended for a “locker accident.” No one connects the dots. You never even hear about it. Ezra makes sure of that.
You don’t need to know how ugly the world is.
Your seventeenth birthday comes with a full moon, but it’s just a pale blur to you now. Ezra’s hands are sure and steady as he leads you down the hallway of your house.
“Where are we going?” you laugh.
“You’ll see,” he says softly.
The scent of food hits you before anything else. Rosemary, garlic, warm bread. There’s music playing faintly—a song you told him once you liked, years ago, when you could still see the album cover.
He made dinner. Not just any dinner—your favorites, arranged thoughtfully and cut into perfect bite-sized pieces. The table is set. Candles flicker. You can’t see them, but you feel the warmth, the flicker against your skin.
He seats you like it’s a restaurant. Holds your hand for just a moment longer than necessary.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says.
You blush. You hadn’t thought to ask him what you were wearing. You don’t know anymore what looks good on you. But Ezra says it like a promise, like a fact.
He feeds you with care—only when you ask, never assuming you need the help, but ready the moment you do. The whole night is seamless.
You don’t know how long he’s been dreaming of this.
By the time you’re eighteen, there’s nothing left. No shapes. No light. The world is made of sound, of touch, of scent. You know Ezra better than anyone—not by face, but by footsteps, by breath, by the quiet way he clears his throat when he's thinking.
You don’t see the way men watch you sometimes—how your blindness makes them think you’re easy, or helpless, or not quite whole.
But Ezra sees.
You never hear the venom in his voice, because there never is any. He keeps it warm, soft, friendly.
“Careful, there,” he’ll say, when someone walks too close. “She’s delicate.”
You don’t see the way his eyes bore into theirs, daring them to speak again. Daring them to try anything. You don’t see the way his fingers twitch at his side, or how he memorizes faces.
No one touches you. Not without going through him first.
You never know how many times Ezra has protected you from shadows you’ll never see.
And he never tells you.
Because you don’t need to know how ugly the world is.
Not when he can carry it for you.
Not when all you need is his hand, warm in yours, leading you through the dark like he always has.
Masterlist
timo chalamet but he’s blurry “tokyo” edition
I know he’s so cocky when he slides and LEMME HUSHHHH
idk how anyone ever got over the geto suguru monkey thing?? we all just let that slide ?? and GOJO DID TOO??
the tags 😭😭
I deleted Tinder. I belong to him now.
wake up babe, time to compare these new timothée pics to snapshots of bob dylan’s life.
(credits: tchalamet ig story)
timothée chalamet could do gojo satoru but gojo satoru could never do statistics.
since the announcement of live action bha, I would like to make the following appeal; timothée as live action gojo satoru when ??????
Immediately thought Leia Organa and her flyboy bf Han
In desperate need of Phantom! Timothee X Reader, been thinking of it all day tbh.
This one has me so excited! Been thinking about it for a while and I think I came up with a good premise. May or may not need a part 2, since what I’ve planned would make an entirely too long single fic. Let me know if you’d like a part 2 and I’ll add it to my list :)
Phantom of the Theater
Warnings: feelings of being watched/stalked, not proofread, Phantom!Timothee, set a years into the future
You moved to New York City to pursue your acting career in 2029. The same year Timothee Chalamet dropped off the face of the earth. It’s a year that sticks out to you; not because you moved your entire life across the United States or because you auditioned for countless Broadway shows, sent in hundreds of video audition tapes to casting and talent agencies, but because it seemed like no matter where you turned, the first 6 months of 2029 was focused solely on one question: where did Timothee Chalamet go?
enjoy retirement @natti-ice here’s something that may help you in the future
I can’t believe I wrote a fic today about cum literally spraying out of someone’s pussy, mouth, nose and ears but the more controversial topic is if someone actually has a crush on a boy named Cole or not …..
❝when life imitates art❞, timothée chalamet as bob dylan
(credits; tchalametcinema ig)
the way i don't even disagree with you on this
bc I'm so so so right!!!!!!
@jexnrey @natti-ice
Both of y’all are dead wrong.
we are not wrong natti.
Calling Alex uglier than jake Gyllenhaal is a crime against humanity
calling Jake gyllenhaal ugly should be a CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY 😟😟😟😨
Harriet Smith and Robert Martin • Emma (2020)