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godwrecks · 4 years ago

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um.. can i req for kuroo just being so mean to his girlfriend with a huge size kink on top? i just love the idea of him deliberately being mean bcs he likes seeing his baby cry for him then immediately change to a loving bf after that 🙈

Mean Dom! Kuroo - Too Dumb

word count: 1.7k

tags: dacryphilia; heavy degradation; daddy kink; dom! kuroo; mean kuroo tbh; size kink; throat fucking; some aftercare (?).

Always in a world of incessant business and black suits, you should have guessed Kuroo would need release somewhere else. Yet out of all things he could enjoy, out of everything that could be his if he just wished it to be, you turned out to be the subject of his adoration. He absolutely worshipped you - showered you with gifts and praise so much so that you would never doubt yourself or his love for you. And considering the way his eyes shone with tenderness whenever you were around, you never did. Not usually, at least.

But right now, when he was so deep inside you yet his face branded utter boredom, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. You had struggled against his almost suffocating embrace, writhing like a prey facing death, when he ripped your panties aside and aligned himself along your folds. There had been a few protests, yet his dark gaze was enough to silence you.

“Tetsu,” you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders for leverage when he finally directed his eyes towards you.

“You fucking done yet, princess? You’ve had me waiting here for a while now,” Kuroo grunted, lowering himself down to his elbows and pushing a hand down against your abdomen. He was well aware of how much bigger he was in comparison to you. “Been inside you so many times, baby, and you still need fucking time to adjust?” He chuckled cruelly, his mocks only making your walls tighten around him. It wasn’t your fault - you wailed it wasn’t. Taking his long, girthy cock now was no easier now than it was before. No matter how many times you did it, he always managed to stretch you out until he made you his, turning the disastrous burn into pure ecstacy. Each and every time.

“I- I’m okay now, ‘s just too big…” Your whisper was borderline inaudible as he began thrusting inside you, setting a merciless pace that knocked the air off your lungs every time he bottomed out.

“You sound like a dumb whore the way you’re talking. Daddy’s cock, is that what you meant?” To your terror, he sat up on his knees, lifting up your thighs against you to gain more speed. Your back arched with moans as he rammed into you harshly, forcing you to take his full length with every buckle of his hips. “Fucking answer me, are you that hopeless of a case?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I meant. Daddy’s-” Cut off by a scream, your sentence got lost in a sea of heavy breaths. The low growls he emitted by your ear, coupled with the twitching and swelling of his cock inside you was nauseating. Sickeningly perverted.

Wrapping a large hand around your throat, you gasped for air while Kuroo gazed down at you with a sinister smile, zeroing in on the tears welling up. The bruising force of his hips clashing against yours was enough for you to hold his wrist in a desperate plea, begging for a breath of air as he kept tightening his hold.

“T-testu!” The raw panic ringing in his ears instantly tore his hands away from your neck, but the lifted corners of his mouth were unmovable as he pulled out all the way, just to slowly sink in back to you.

Your back pathetically arched into his touch, clit rubbing just right against the smooth skin of his defined abdomen. The way he looked down at you as if you were nothing but a used toy he’d throw away soon had your hand pushing against his chest, attempting to slow the reckless grinding of his hips.

“What now?” His eyes were so cold, only letting the slightly feral tone underneath the ice flicker through.

“Slow down, please, it hurts.” Contradicting your plea, you let it out a shameful moan when his thumb began circling the swollen bud. Oh, it was so clear he enjoyed watching you unravel under him, as if you were a little porcelain doll - the favorite in his collection.

“Princess, I don’t think I ever stated you have a fucking say,” he rolled his eyes, and the carelessness with which he threw you around in the bed - bringing you up to your knees on the edge of the bed while he stood - left an unfamiliar distaste reverberating through your system.

With another hand gripping your shoulder to keep you in place, he pried your mouth open slowly, savoring the crimson of your lips. His digits sensually pushed against your tongue, to which you responded by swirling your tongue around them. The hand previously restraining you lowered down to his cock, where he began pumping his fist up and down. Precum quickly began pooling from his tip and without realizing, your tongue had surely stuck out, ready for him to use your mouth.

At least that’s what you thought, but the moment he fisted your hair and forced you down his length, you knew it would be too much. You tried to relax your mouth, but his cock twitching inside your mouth made you choke even more. You couldn’t breathe, you only ogled up at him with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, hoping maybe he’d have some mercy. “You said you'd take it so why are you struggling, huh? Do you not want to?” He finally let go of you, and as much as you tried to compensate for the air your lungs were begging for, it was hard to even relish in the emptiness again when he sounded so damn disappointed.

“No! It’s not that, daddy, I just can’t fit you inside my mouth, it hurts,” you uttered the words as your arms wrapped around his legs, bringing him closer until his length was raised taut against your cheek.

“So everything hurts now for you,” the laugh that echoed off was strange, condemning. His cringe at the sight made your heart tremble. “I’m taking the time to train your useless little throat and this is how you behave? You should be fucking thankful, or would you rather I use my secretary’s?” You tried to listen for any sign of hesitance or teasing in his tone, but it was cold steel you heard. Shaking your head swiftly, your bottom lip quivered as his tip set against your mouth once again.

“So then why, baby? Why are you acting like such a stupid slut, as if you haven’t learned anything?” Using your throat as nothing more than a cock sleeve, he thrusted into your mouth continuously, ignoring all signs of your struggle. “You’re too dumb to remember, is that it? Maybe it’s time I throw you away and find someone new to play with.” Those were the words you lost it at, when the tears began cascading down your cheeks. Even as you sobbed, even as the oxygen barely managed to reach your blood and dizzied you, you kept him inside your mouth. Wishing - clinging to the hope that you could satisfy him again like you used to. But just as your spotted vision started going black, you were suddenly pulled up into his embrace, his arms holding you tightly against him. No, not like the claustrophobic hold he had on you earlier, but with that warm strength you were always met with when you needed it.

“I got you, pretty girl. C’mon, look at me,” Kuroo’s words were once again dripping with honey, his index finger lifting up your chin so your teary eyes could lock with his. “So fucking pretty when you cry, you know that right? Know how much I love you?” His charming smile was like a lullaby, easily dissipating every concern you had.

“Keep crying for me, angel, yeah? Wanna see those pretty tears when I make you cum.” Those words were the last you registered before he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, easily slipping inside you with how much you had been dripping onto the sheets.

Though you hadn’t come before, every thrust was worse than the previous. You were so sensitive you could feel absolutely everything - every vein and pulsing of his cock, every place where you clamped down on him, every brush of your hardened nipples against his firm chest.

“Tetsu, it feels so good! Feels so good, I’m gonna cum,” you sobbed on his shoulder, bouncing on his lap each time he plunged into you.

“Go on, princess. Cum with me, make daddy proud.”

With a kiss to your dampened cheek, his rhythm increased enough to send you both into your high. For a moment, you felt awfully aware of your surroundings, your heavy pants and the lewd sound of naked skin slapping against another. It was like the calm before a storm, right when your orgasm rushed in and cascaded over you, milking every last drop of the creamy liquid from Kuroo without even noticing.

You still trembled weakly from the pleasure when you felt Kuroo’s fingers draw circles on your stomach. It was then, when you looked down, that you discovered you were trying to keep in every bit of his seed inside you, unwilling to let any pour outside.

“Look at that bulge, too full with my cum, huh? You always do so fucking good for me,” Kuroo grunted with a smirk, the sweat on his forehead glistening with every labored breath.

“I love you,” you looked at him with furrowed brows and a pout, still unable to shake away the words from before.

He smiled briefly, wiping away the tears before cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. “I love you so fucking much. Never forget that, okay? No matter what I say when I’m like that, you’re the only one for me. Only girl I wanna spend my life with, and only girl I want to absolutely fucking ruin every night.” His lips ghosted above yours with the whisper, merely brushing against yours with every spoken word. “Got that?” A brow lifted up with the question, seeking for the confirmation he needed to hear.

“Got that,” you smiled, taking the reins and lunging forward for a kiss.

my dumbass literally forgot abt the size kink?? i’m so sorry, i tried to go back & include it but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. thank u for the request!

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shingia · 4 years ago

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DATING SUNA...

in honor of this smexy middle blocker’s birthday, here are MANY hcs about what i think dating suna would be like (as exhaustively as possible) bcs he’s on my mind 25/8 <3

cw : one or two suggestive stuff, mentions of food

— EARLY RELATIONSHIP

• ok so suna would definitely not waste his time dating someone if he wasn’t truly in love

• that’s why it took him a few months to ask you out because 1. he wanted to be sure of his feelings 2. he wanted to be sure of yours 3. he was scared

• he probably acted detached at first, but it was just to compensate for the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger since day 1

• he probably didn’t officially tell his friends that you were dating and just casually kissed you before for his class (lowkey enjoyed leaving without a word while everyone else was freaking out)

• nicknames came after a few weeks, when he ‘accidentally’ called you babe after asking for a kiss. yeah he is that smooth

• because it took him so many months to ask you out, you already knew each other pretty well so he felt comfortable around you very quickly

• and he tried his best to make you feel the same if you were a bit more nervous

• honestly he couldn’t wait for you two to become closer over time <3 he's a sucker for the boyfriend/bestfriend dynamic

— LOVE LANGUAGE

->| QUALITY TIME

• he cherishes every single moment you spend together, even if it’s just for a few minutes between classes

• sure, there are times where you two just hang out at his place or yours, scrolling on your phones and enjoying each other’s company. but tell him once that you want to talk to him about something and you’ll have his undivided attention

• and lemme just kdjqdhvjdmsjvh real quick : eye contact. that’s how you know he’s listening, and he always leans in just enough for you to know that he’s paying attention. no phone in sight, just you.

• he doesn’t need to take you out on fancy dates for it to be called quality time, because he values impromptu face-to-face late night conversations much more than a dinner at the restaurant.

— DATES

• your first date was one of the only dates you spent outside, it was nothing extravagant you just went for coffee after school and ended up walking through the city, holding hands for the first time

• once you guys started officially dating, you realized that at-home dates were actually more your thing. but there needs to be a difference with the rest of the time you spend at home, so you always have one or two things planned like :

• cook together an elaborate meal for once, actually put an effort in the choice of the movie/tv show you’re gonna watch (and not end up watching rick and morty for the 23rd time this week), try the most questionable face masks recipes - he loves them and doesn’t even deny it

• but i feel like you guys might go out for your anniversaries, and it’s a great opportunity for him to take really nice pictures of you and update his phone’s lockscreen (he’s a huge simp)

• your dates often take place in the evening because he loves to see your face illuminated by the city lights, and he likes to know that you might get cold because he can be smooth af and give you his jacket (most of the pictures are taken when you’re wearing it)

• i think official and ‘elaborated’ dates with suna maybe occur every two weeks because he wants them to be special and likes to look forward to them

— CUDDLES

• he gets a kick out of kissing your whole face except your lips, but really he’s just waiting for you to get frustrated and kiss him yourself

• however, if you ever don’t play along he’ll stop like “wtf you’re not supposed to do nothing”

• he’ll give you lazy and passive cuddles where you just lay on top of him, hugging him while he watches something on tv or on his phone, BUT

• if he ever wraps a blanket around you then real cuddles begin. i’m talking scalp massages, back strokes, kisses, playing with your hands...

• i just know his kisses are aphrodisiac, there’s something about the way he holds your head still with his hands that’s just UGHHH

• you could be sharing a perfectly peaceful moment together and he’ll suddenly get bored and feel an urge to tickle your sides, squish your cheeks or randomly blow in your face/ear

• but god forbid you ever do that to him, he will crush you with all his weight until you can’t move

• he also uses your hand to scratch his back because he can’t do it without writhing like a cat, not that you’d complain about seeing that one day

• you two always end up dozing and losing track of time. “we stayed like that for NINETY MINUTES?” (he’d have to find an excuse for being late at practice, because there’s no way in hell he will tell the truth in front of the twins)

• it’s very likely that you guys wake up still cuddling after nine hours of sleep. i mean it’s canon that he has a good shoulder mobility so he can keep holding you even if you’ve moved in your sleep

• his biggest struggle is morning cuddles because it’s really hard for him to get out of bed and go on with his day when he’s so comfortable in bed with you

— PDA

• i think he’d adapt to your needs, he doesn’t really mind pda

• if he ever pulls you in for a hug in public, it won’t always be a soft and sweet hug, no. sometimes it might look like a literal headlock, but he’ll give you a quick peck on the head to make up for it

• in fact the only times his hugs are sweet and lovey in public are after his matches

• if atsumu ever makes fun of him for ‘being a softie’, he’ll do the exact opposite of what’s expected of him : and by that i mean ruthlessly tongue-kiss you until tsumu begs him to stop

• he uses hugs as a way to talk shit to you about someone without them realizing it

• he doesn’t necessarily hold your hand all the time but he has affectionate gestures like giving you little pats on the head or wiping dirt off of your clothes

• pokes your cheek for no reason, and that’s daily

• he’s also a fricken tease and doesn’t have any problem with gripping your thigh when you’re sat at a table :)

— COUPLE DYNAMIC

• he tries so hard to act like you’re the clingy one but everyone knows it’s a lie

• he probably has a private story called ‘being held against my will’ where it’s just him roasting you on a daily basis

• which is a great contrast with all the albums full of pictures of you in his camera roll. like i said, he’s a MAJOR SIMP

• you also have a private story called ‘exposing the truth’ and it’s filled with stolen clichés of him being a needy and whiny little bïtch (sorry i got carried away) : it’s the twins’ main source of blackmail

• i said before that suna’s a sucker for the boyfriend/bestfriend dynamic. yeah well you guys definitely have it - you can spend entire afternoons together without once acting like a couple

• he’d give you a kidney if you ever needed one, but steal one of his fries and he’ll flip your chair over without thinking twice

• you both think that your failed attempts at being romantic are hilarious. one time he tried to kiss you under the rain but you were so cold that you couldn’t stop your teeth from chattering and yeah it was just terrible

• the efforts you put in to embarrass each other are remarkable. you once kissed him in a supermarket and he just pulled away, yelling “MOM AND DAD SAID NOT IN PUBLIC !”

— RANDOM HCS THAT GIVE ME LIFE

• remember when i said you guys would do face masks together ? yeah well suna doesn’t own any headband which means that you have to tie his hair up in two pigtails at the front (it’s too short for one ponytail or a bun hehe)

• he has a silent laugh, the kind of laugh where he just wheezes while slapping his thighs, and he has to make a conscious effort to catch his breath

• he tugs on your sleeve whenever he wants to show you something <3

• in winter he writes messages on the frost of your car’s windows. nothing cheesy, probably something along the lines of “nice ass”

• he thinks it’s hilarious that your contact name in his phone is your full name, no emojis, nothing. he even put caps at the beginning

• he sends you 30 tiktoks per day and expects you to answer to all of them

• he makes you playlists for the dumbest things. one of them is called ‘dentist appointment vibes’

• he likes to see you wear many layers of clothing in winter because he takes great pride in being the only one to know what’s hiding under them *wink*

• when he’s driving, he often tries to be smooth and stare at you lovingly when he’s at a red light, but he always misses the moment when it turns green and the other drivers start to furiously honk at him (another failed attempt at being romantic)

• i’m gonna be honest w/ you : he’s probably effortlessly seggsy when he drives

in conclusion : you might not be the most romantic couple, but your vibes are 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 because you’re both so madly in love with each other

pspsps: here’s a link to my suna playlist that fuels my mind with thousands of scenarios

#did i just describe my ideal relationship? yessir 🙃#haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna fluff #suna rintaro headcanons #suna x you #suna rintarou x reader

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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all love {steve rogers}

summary: you had a lot to say to steve rogers after he left. finally, you get your chance.

warnings: angst, mentions of death

believe it or not, this version is actually the one with the happier ending than all the other ideas i had. so pls don’t hate me, bc this ain’t fluff :)

- jazz xx

Steve Rogers was a complicated man.

You knew that. You could see it in his eyes because you were just as complicated too. It was a blessing and a curse, really; it meant that you understood him just as much as you didn’t; sympathised with him just as much as you struggled. His emotions were clear as day and somehow, still twisted and unintelligible like a tangle of rainclouds in the middle of a stormy night. The history behind his blue eyes was long and confusing and it was unfair to expect you to decipher it when Steve could barely do it himself. He’d lived about a thousand lifetimes in the span of time that most people lived one - so you gave in on understanding, and chose to just love him instead.

It was easier that way, to just take it day by day and unpack his baggage as the super soldier saw fit. Sometimes it was hours and hours of talking; long and late nights, filled with tired eyes and the smell of caffeine. Stolen glances met with soft giggles and recounts of the war, the good times and the bad. Other times, it was more twisted. Deeper and darker. Strangled screams and cries lost to the night, large hands reaching for the gun under his pillow that posed the question of how fucking long has that been there, Steve?

In time, the good was worth the bad. You must had the patience of a fucking saint, because Steve finally stopped mourning for the past and began to look to the future. You hadn’t made solid plans -- that was foolish in your line of work. Between fighting aliens and robots, you were both blessed to have even made it this far. So, the day by day method worked in that sense too, and any big plans always became maybe. Maybe we’ll have kids one. Maybe we’ll move out of Brooklyn and to the suburbs. Maybe we’ll find a nice house with a picket fence and a garden big enough for Bucky to run around in.

What you had was beautiful, in the most complicated way. Because Steve Rogers was a perplexing man, but before that, he was kind and funny and sweet. He looked after you and you looked after him. Wrote you letters on long missions and left little notes for everyday that he was away. Sent you the dumbest good morning texts and the sweetest good night ones. For every emotional pitfall that you found yourselves in, Steve would turn up with a rope, even if he’d been the one to dig the hole in the first place.

It went more than just skin deep, twisting your souls together in some kind of emotional vortex that you wouldn’t have thought to be true had you not witnessed alien invasions and everything that followed. In fact, it was the everything that followed that you pushed you together even more - because it was the blip that had made you and Steve realised fucking important what you had was.

Those had been desperate moments. Painful, desperate moments. One minute, you’d been watching Wanda Maximoff cry out in pain for her lost love, and then she was gone. So was Bucky. And T’Challa. And Stephen Strange. In mere seconds; so quickly that your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. It was as though somebody had turned your brain off for a few seconds - and when it rebooted, all you could think about was Steve.

You didn’t remember much from the seconds that followed, other than the burning in your lungs from how impossibly fast you had run, and how soar your throat was from screaming out his name. Then your bodies had collided with a thud, and you’d been met with a solid chest. Warm arms and big hands, that were completely and entirely there and not being dusted away. You’d never clung onto him so tightly, barely able to breath from how hard reality had just hit you. But he held onto you, and kept you standing - a metaphor which would stick to the next five years in the most bittersweet way.

The first few months were hard. Hard to stomach, hard to accept, hard to mourn. Everyone was floating around one another, still struggling to truly get over the fact that for once, the Avengers hadn’t won. You hadn’t gotten cocky, but after the Chitauri, and after Ultron, you had become hopeful. Nobody could blame you. Hope was all you’d had, really.

You found a routine. Steve found a reason to live in you, and you’d found an inkling of ambition in him. After a few months in the Compound, you’d gone back to your apartment in Manhattan. You’d never been more grateful to have it -- because when the entire world had changed around you, at least one thing was still the same. You could shut the door and lock it behind you, just existing as you always had in those four walls. The rest of the world didn’t matter, because it just you, and it was Steve, and that was the world. It was your world, and it was his.

After everything becoming so unpredictable, the stability that his presence brought was everything you needed. It cemented your need for one another - your love for another.

But unpredictably has a funny way of working, doesn’t it?

Never in a million years would you have imagined that the thing brought you closer would have been the thing to tear you apart. That restoring the world back to the state you’d longed for would bring an end to the only thing you thought was certain. You’d calculated every outcome of reversing the blip, thought about every way that it was everything you’d ever wanted. Finally, everything you’d lost would come back, and you and Steve could live as you always wanted. In the world you wanted.

But he wasn’t there.

One possibility you hadn’t considered was that Steve would have access to the time stone. You were both getting back to the world’s your mourned for, but they weren’t the same. You’d only been mourning the last five years, whilst Steve had been mourning the last seven decades. Somewhere along the long, you’d convinced yourself that the little bubble you’d built for yourselves was enough to cushion that. That your relationship, and your love, was enough compensation for the fact he’d lost everything.

Because Steve was good with words, but not quite enough to express to you how truly out of time he’d been. You saw the way his eyes glazed over when he spoke of the forties, but you couldn’t feel the pain in his chest when he heard an old record. You couldn’t fathom the suffocation he felt every time he saw pictures of his lost friends, or the weight on his chest that losing Peggy Carter had given him. It had alleviated slightly when he met you, but truthfully speaking, Steve Rogers hadn’t taken a deep breath since the final moments before his plane hit the ice in 1945.

The pain you felt when you realised that he’d well and truly left you for his old life was minute compared to what he’d been feeling since he woke up all those years ago. It didn’t matter, because pain was pain regardless. His relief didn’t negate your suffering. And, if you’d ever been wondering what you would have felt if you had lost Steve in the blip, you needn’t had looked any further. This was worst than him dying. This was worst than him slipping away with millions of others, because he’d chosen to do it. He’d thought about you, and everything you’d tried to give him, and he’d decided it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t get it at first. Couldn’t sympathise with his situation - but let’s face it. Who the fuck could? It wasn’t like there was a WikiHow article on how to get over the love of your life time travelling back to the 1940s and leaving you in ruins. For the first time since you’d met Steve all those years ago, you were forced to process all your emotional trauma on your own. To stand on your own two feet without his broad arms supporting you in the way they had on the battlefield in Wakanda.

It took time. You processed it with time. Drank a lot, cried a lot, screamed a lot. Found solace in your friendships with Bucky and Sam; even if they’d been a little much at first, forcing you to share the payload of your pain with them had helped. At times, it was like going to group therapy with Spongebob and Patrick, but you held them close to your heart. You learnt to find joy and appreciation in other things, and to tune out Steve, and the mention of his name.

That was until March 2021, almost two years to the day that he had left you standing on the lakeside in the Compound. You’d been driving home from work and his name had been mentioned on the radio - Captain America, former war hero and super soldier, has died aged 103.

It didn’t sting too much. You’d mourned Steve Rogers a long time ago - at least the version of him that you knew. It made your chest hurt a little that he was truly and completely gone, and that you would never have a chance to talk to him. You’d toyed with the idea of going to visit him in his old age. Part of you wanted to know if he remembered you, even if for him, everything you’d had together had been decades ago. Even though you’d existed together in the future, your life together was cemented entirely in the past the minute you’d went back. Decades had passed before you existed at the same time again, and you wondered if time had been enough for him to forget. Two years for you had been seventy for him. It was thought that had made you shy away from ever talking to him, because you didn’t want to know. You were scared of the answer.

Maybe that was why you were only seeing him now; on a rainy day, when the man you’d once loved was six feet under and surrounded by a ridiculous headstone you knew he would hate. The air around you was cool, sky tinged grey and a few droplets splashing against the grey stone, making it turn a slightly darker shade. There were no tears; just a deep sigh, and an awkward shuffle as you wriggled your toes in your boots and thought about what the fuck you wanted to say.

‘Hey, Cap.’ You murmured. ‘Can I call you that? I used to call you babe. No, I don’t know why I said that. That’s fucking weird. Like this whole situation, because somehow, even though I’ve dealt with aliens and gods, saying goodbye to you is one I was never truly prepared for.’

Your eyes fell to the floor, and you continued. ‘You suck, Steve Rogers. You really fucking suck. You know that, right? That it’s a dick move to go back to your old life without even leaving a note? Or a text? Heck, I would have been happy if you spelt it out on the fridge in magnets.’

‘It’s okay, though.’ You smiled. ‘I’m not mad anymore. Okay, maybe I am a little, but not as I used to be. I understand why you did it, but I also get that I’ll never understand at all. I’ll never get how existing in a time that wasn’t yours felt, or how out of place you must have been in a world seventy years ahead of what you knew.’

‘And I’m sorry, I guess. Sorry that I didn’t try harder, but also sorry that whatever I tried to give you wasn’t enough to make up for what you’d lost.’ You sniffed. ‘This is where you’d tell me to shut up and stop being so hard on myself. So I will, because we’re both at peace now and that’s the most important thing.’

There were a few tears then; not for the man beneath you, but for the man that had left you. When all the anger subsided, you realised that above all, you just missed him. You missed the late night conversations when you couldn’t sleep, and you missed how warm he felt beside you when you did finally drift off. You missed the way he laughed at your driving skills and the way he would eat your side salad because you hated it. You longed to his hear his singing in the shower in the morning, and to squeal at him for pressing his cold feet to your back to wake you up.

‘Above all, Steve Rogers, I’m just grateful I had you, even for a few years.’ You took a deep breath. ‘The pain I felt when you left was unbearable, but it wasn’t permanent. The memories you gave me, and the love I felt for you? That’s gonna stay with me forever.’

You wiped away a few tears, smiling to yourself when the clouds above you cleared slightly. The grey ones that had been lingering all morning had shifted slightly, allowing for the sunlight to peak through and cast a glow over your surroundings. Tiny, dewy raindrops lingered on the grass, enveloping the world around you in the smell of petrichor and relief. You’d never believed in fate, or the afterlife, or messages from the underworld, but that? You hadn’t felt a rush like that the last time you woke up beside him.

‘So, thanks I guess.’ You glanced up at the sky, blinking under the bright sun. ‘And rest easy, Cap.’

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers angst #avengers fan fiction #marvel x you #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fan fiction

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shoichee · 4 years ago

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teiko manager anon back ~ my juicy part 2 will disappoint bc guess what: we're skipping two years into the future. akashi never found out what happened, and by third year the gom were the epitome of cruelty. so reader picks a fight with them after meiko game, only to collapse out of stress after. they graduate, she follows kuroko to seirin and they train to defeat gom. but why is she so insecure and easily sad when gom is mentioned? they get their answer when they catch her overworking

oh teiko anon, so so bold.... really out here stirring the pot of chaos with this part 2 huh KEK alright folks BUCKLE IN YOUR SEATBELTS IT”S TIME FOR PART 2 and part 1 is right here ! part 3 will be here ! update: part 4 is here !

Akashi x Reader

Part 2

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

remember how I said in part 1 how Akashi would find out sooner or later? this would normally be the case, but in this exception…

you came back to school pretty quickly and restored, only to be in shock when Akashi himself confronts you about where you’ve been… like hello? YOUR CRUSH?? is? talking? to you? about your wellbeing?

here’s the thing, Akashi can easily detect lies through body language because he has an extraordinary sense of kinetic vision and critical thinking, but he’s still a human, not to mention… a middle schooler, and he’s not a true mind reader as some teammates would wholeheartedly believe

still, after some easy sleuthing he easily drew out confessions from some teammates who badmouthed you, although every single one were some type of half-truths and inconsistent testimonies that didn’t really make sense in painting a big picture

instead of incorrectly assuming things, he wanted to hear what’s been going on from your own mouth (keep in mind, this is still Oreshi, the guy who’s still cordial and wants to confirm this with you out of respect)

when he asks you some questions, he doesn’t detect any physical signs of lying from you, which only makes him believe that there wasn’t anything wrong to begin with other than you being under the weather and the other teammates saying utter nonsense either out of fear in his presence or using you as a scapegoat to cover up other delinquencies that he may have yet to discover

“(l/n)-san, I take it that you’ve been resting well? I heard from Kuroko that you were absent due to the seasonal flu.”

“Ah, y-yes! I’ve actually gotten plenty of rest and proper meals, so I’m back on my feet quicker than expected.”

“I actually also wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind?”

“What is it?”

“Has anything odd happening to you lately? Anyone who has given you trouble or has been uncooperative with you as head manager as of late?”

at the question, you only frown in genuine confusion before you answer no; you genuinely believed that these teammates weren’t in the wrong for “speaking their mind” and if anything, you felt like you were the problem in not being capable enough in managing your own job and your health in the process (despite being knowledgeable in health yourself)

because Akashi saw that you weren’t lying, he dropped it completely out of respect and asked you that if there was anything troubling you that you could reach out to him

oh how he was so, so close to finding out the truth

this wouldn’t be brought up ever again because you and Akashi only continued to grow busier and busier with your own duties; eventually, your fears came true when the Generation of Miracles had in fact “left” you behind when their talents blossomed too fast and left unchecked

honestly, you developed a horrible habit of overworking despite Kuroko’s and Kise’s constant checks on you

what do you know? of course the coaches and faculty members would ignore your opposition against putting the GoMs in every game; after all some of them had been quite dismissive of you already

it’s kind of ironic because if Bokukashi was the one interrogating you back then, he would’ve either easily (correctly) assume based off of the teammates’ testimonies alone, or he’d be a lot more insistent in discerning the truth of the situation and nipping it right in the bud to stop the “nonsense”

but at the same time, Bokukashi has a lot more pressing priorities than a few poor-attitude teammates when he has the entire reputation of Tekio’s legacy on his shoulders; anything pertaining to you never crossed his mind ever since his domineering side emerged

you were really excited for Kuroko since he was gushing about playing against his old friend, since his friend couldn’t make it to finals the first time // needless to say, you were also Kuroko’s mental support when he felt really down at that time

after Kuroko sustained an injury in the game before Meiko, you immediately accompanied him to the infirmary

there, Kuroko requests you to go watch the game and you only reluctantly agree because you wanted to see the game just to relay back to Kuroko just in case if he couldn’t make it, and you were still a manager with a job to fulfill; you’d figure leaving Momoi to watch over was sufficient enough

when you walk out the door though… you bump into Akashi, which is the first time in a while where you two were face-to-face like this; your heart sank when you realize that you had to accept the fact that he’s changed and allowed the distance to grow between you two

but a small part of denial makes you quickly turn and flee out the hallway, but you really begin to evaluate your crush on him as you scurry away; Akashi just stares at you for a moment before he enters into the infirmary where Kuroko is

you’ve distanced yourself from other people (GoMs in particular) in basketball out of denial of the fact you were really left behind (plus, you already dread attending to their games because it’s always a cruel reminder that you’re not working hard enough to achieve results of the same level), which is why reality slapped you in the face after the aftermath of the Meiko game… when you witnessed the full extent of their cruelty on the court

you were really hurt—in fact, you looked more distraught than the Meiko teammates themselves

especially, since the fact that Kise himself, who you thought of him as someone you can trust in, partook in this as well (this is actually your first time in seeing his cruel side in action, since he’s always been very sweet and helpful to you because he respects you)

you first confronted Kise when he was alone for a bit, sounding absolutely heartbroken and on the verge of tears; you shocked him out of his cold side and he immediately becomes a mother hen and asking if you needed water or a seat to calm down before you overexert yourself

after telling him your feelings about the game and your growing distance in the friendship, he sincerely apologizes for making you feel in such an awful way and tells you to let him know next time before a game, so that he wouldn’t suggest this type of entertainment for the game again.

you were in complete disbelief… the fact that your best friend suggested this himself? You dumbly asked for his reason, and he only says that you wouldn’t understand it because no one ever gives the GoM a proper challenge

even though he didn’t intend anything bad when he said this, it just made you feel worse, but you still accepted the apology to get it over with

the other GoMs come and you immediately become angry again and tension just skyrockets; Midorima simply looks away and says nothing, and Murasakibara and Aomine do most of the talking back/arguing… and Akashi only impassively stares at you

later, when Kuroko himself confronts them while everyone was walking in the hallway, you completely lagged behind on the group, tearfully staring at the backs of the GoMs and how you felt really alienated and unmotivated to continue being a manager for a team you don’t even recognize anymore

you grew dizzy again, and you knew your body was dealing with too much at once but you willed your body to at least last the trip

at least you gave a warning when you assumed that you were away from the GoMs at Teiko before you went unconscious; Kise happens to catch you before he brings you to the school infirmary

he does stay with you the entire time, knowing the reason for your collapse was all the extreme emotional and mental toll accumulated in such a short time; he feels absolutely guilty, and when you were about to stir awake, he simply leaves a lighthearted note and a cutely shaped bread before he leaves, knowing that you’d be stressed again if you saw him (around this time is when Kuroko confronts Akashi to quit the team, which is why he was nowhere near you at the time of your collapse/rest)

you felt better that at least Kise still sees you as a close friend when you see what he left behind

you still feel awful, to say the least

it felt wrong of you to quit mid-season, since you felt that you were simply giving up and further perpetuating the fact that you weren’t doing the most that you could

but you didn’t feel like staying for the rest of the season, so you decided to overwork yourself again to get the rest of the paperwork and training plans out of the way for the remainder of the games; you even left detailed instructions to Momoi in how to relieve certain pressure points and muscles for instant relief in case someone hurts themselves

a little timeskip where you decided to tag along Kuroko in attending Seirin High, but you were more reluctant in joining basketball again because you didn’t want to re-experience the stress and burdens in Teiko

well, until you made friends with Riko, and her story in how she was skeptical about basketball at first too inspires you to give it a try again

Kuroko feels really happy that you’re at ease again for the first time, but he definitely notices how you grow gloomy when the Seirin teammates praise the GoMs

you slowly relapse into the habit of overworking to “compensate” for your lack of contributions to Seirin’s team, but this time, every member DROPKICKS you to stop working and relax sometimes (Riko and Hyuuga are the main culprits)

even though you never tell them the reason for your poor habits, the Seirin team members just SENSE and KNOW what to say to make you feel like you’re doing more than enough to support the team in their own unique ways (Mitobe giving really cute shoulder pats and thumbs-ups… Koganei giving you slaps on the back and high-fives… Riko bluntly telling you to relax and giving you encouraging winks… Hyuuga being a roundabout in his praises… Teppei openly praising you… and Kagami telling you that you were doing too much LOL)

Kuroko gives you the SOFTEST SMILES (everyone freaks out every time he does that, it’s hilarious)

however, wounds slowly reopen more once again every time Seirin goes against schools that the respective GoM plays for

after every win Seirin achieves against the GoM’s respective school, each GoM would eventually learn a little tidbits here and there about your tendency to overwork and collapse and possible speculations of why, but you never confirm anything with them

even though you easily forgive Kise after the Seirin vs. Kaijo match (seeing how he interacted with Kagami and Kuroko in the park), for the others… you weren’t so ready to confront…

… particularly with Akashi

#knb #knb x reader #knb headcanon #knb headcanons #teiko #knb teiko #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi seijuro x reader #kuroko tetsuya #kise ryota #kise ryouta #aomine daiki #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #murasakibara atsushi #teiko middle school

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jigenshat · 3 years ago

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have a jiglup hc that i kinda fell off of the more i binged the series but i still think its an interesting hc

so SUPER early into part 1 i was thinking that lupin and jigen were both gay and into eachother, but couldnt come out to eachother bc it was the 70s and homophobia was still acceptable to most of the population yknow (or at least to my knowledge it was)

jigen accepted that he was gay a while ago but lupin on the other hand only realized it when he met jigen, and in turn hasnt come to accept it yet

so lupin is a womanizer in order to like.. prove to himself that he isnt this way ig? like hes compensating in a way since he cant really handle change this quickly plus yknow.... people are homophobic in the 70s so i imagine it wouldve been scary to come out, ESPECIALLY to some intimidating gunman massive cope on his part

thats as far as i came up with before drifting away from the idea but i like to think lupin eventually comes to terms with who he is and makes out with jigen or something KHJGKHFGH

maybe my answer is a little controversial idk but i don’t see either jigen or lupin as gay. they still do both like men, but i don’t think it has to take away from the fact they like women and other people too. i know source material is a little dubious at times but i do think lupin is genuinely attracted to fujiko and jigen has genuinely been attracted to women in the past. for lupin i think polyamory is also a big part of his identity and while he’s happy to be committed, it’s just not with one person. of course, anon, you’re entitled to hc whatever you want but i’m going to respond to this in a way about when they realised they both like men. as a bisexual myself i know this can still be a part of your identity that takes a while to come to terms with and embrace even if you know from the get go you experience same sex attraction.

honestly i don’t disagree with the fact jigen probably came to terms with his identity sooner than lupin. as much as he experiences self doubt, he just knows this is something inherent to him. since a young age he’s seen men as hot and fantasised about them both romantically and sexually. he still sees it as a little taboo but if someone questioned his sexuality, he wouldn’t lie. in his days as an assassin, he did a lot of solo travelling and this gave him the personal space to explore his sexuality. he’s been with men, and not just for one night and know he likes it. as he lost more and more in his life, what jigen longed for more than anything was a constant. when it was just him and lupin he saw that maybe there could be that which he yearned so much for with him. but then the gang got bigger. and life got more hectic. the time to tell or show lupin how he felt was slipping away from him. he was certain he could feel a tension between them, but just kind of waited for it to break on its own.

i’m not so sure with lupin. i could definitely see him living in denial and sort of hoping that if he just ignores his fantasies and desires that they’d go away. trying more things such as various forms of kink likely kept his sexual desires occupied and sedated enough that his repression didn’t drive him mad. in the processes he likely discovered polyamorous relationships and felt this was something he was driven towards. but ultimately he’s a ticking time bomb and not always so subtle socially. it’s likely everything was admitted really suddenly in one theatric gesture, like randomly leaning in to make out with jigen when he couldn’t stand the tension between them any longer.

#conclusion: they're stupid #jigen #lupin iii #lupin/jigen #hcs #/

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letterstomilen · 4 years ago

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the death of rex lapis (hopefully)

Zhongli, Vampire Alternative Universe (warning: this is mainly expositional bc ive had fun playing around w the idea of how zhongli would be if he was a vampire so idk where this’ll go! there is some childe/zhongli but not much!! anyways happy birthday zhongli i love you :) Zhongli does not make a good vampire.

Immortality is meant to make you smart.

But what people forget is that you don’t live that long because of wits. Immortality does not mean you are capable; it means that you were foolish enough to get bitten and didn’t think much of it later.

He wasn’t clever when he was held by Guizhong, who smiled sweetly at him as she looked at him, her hair brushing against his skin and cold hands curling the ends of his hair. And certainly not sharp when he failed to notice that her heart wasn’t beating and she seemed to look more at his neck— ”You have a very fine neck,” she informed him when he asked, and he nodded, assuming that it was one of those things sculptors just happened to notice—than his eyes for the majority of the night.

Whether it was out of guilt or disinterest, he doesn’t know. Zhongli would like to think that it was out of guilt, because prior to the night, they were friends. And after she bit his neck, she held him in her arms, whispering story after story as he stuck by fever.

The pain was unimaginable. First—there was shock. And then minutes later, while he wondered why the room smelled more like sweat and blood than incense, he realized that he was still held down.

This must be what quarry feels like, he thought then. But now he knows otherwise; prey would never be held so gently and lay there limply if they could help it. He, while being drained every bit of life, was a willing, sitting duck.

That was before the pain, of course. When she finally let go of him to wash her face—he recalls this clearly: her wiping her face, then licking the blood off her hands with the relish of a child on her birthday, before leaving to the bathroom—he laid there paralyzed. It was, he’s discovered, a bit like being drunk.

Only that the alcohol left his insides in unimaginable pain for days on end. He stumbled when he tried to stand; babbled as he struggled to speak. Even now he only remembers brief flashes of it, when he tore the skin on his arm with his newly grown canines, or hours of rejecting food that he could not quite stomach.

In reality, he was a child—a baby, really, if you were being blunt about it. The weeks that followed were horrendous and perhaps it’s a blessing that he spent the majority of them inhibited, the metamorphosis shedding every part of him that he was comfortable with. But as the days went on, the pain gave way to numbness and numbness gave away to strength.

And when he finally regained enough consciousness to form a coherent sentence, he asked Guizhong why she did it. She, with the certainty of somebody that’s lived for longer than he had, answered, “Well, you’ve always been interested in how the world would change after you were gone. Isn’t this now your chance to witness it?”

Fanaticism with history and predictions could only get you so far. To witness it—wasn’t that just a dream? And because he assumed that rocks were eternal and could not erode back then, he nodded in agreement.

It was a mistake.

Six hundred years ago, Zhongli underestimated the length of his lifetime. One day he’d be talking to somebody about their newborn and it would only be a blink later where their newborn was six feet under, hailed for having a long and blessed life. (What made a blessed life? It couldn’t have been the years –he concluded that every year he was more cursed than before.) Relationships were scarce because he forgot that not everybody experienced time the same way he did.

Days, contrary to his belief, were not fleeting seconds but rather twenty-four hours long. They composed of both the night and day, waking and sleeping hours instead of mindless walks that ended with him apologizing profusely before his fangs were embedded deep into somebody’s throat.

Somebody suggested for him to just do it in an alley and leave them there to be found at morning. But that was too disrespectful—uncouth even. He preferred to invite them into his home, graciously taking their coat and ushering them inside to a table filled with food. Venti always commented on how polite he was to the very end, taking extra care to cook food that he knew they liked—“Last meal before execution, huh?” he’d comment. “Very romantic.”—and making them comfortable until the very end.

That’s not how it started of course.

He tried starving himself at first—much to Osial’s amusement. On a night out, where Zhongli was more attuned to the heat and beating hearts of the people around him than the delicacies laid out, Osial took it a step further by passing him a cup with a thick, maroon liquid that sloshed around in it.

It smelled finer than the silk flowers that littered the gardens, and when he took the cup, he felt one step closer to the damnation Guizhong always spoke of. The worst part was that it didn’t churn his stomach—instinctually, he felt more delighted than he ever felt, a smile cracking his worn face as he inspected the goblet. Only when did he take note of Osial’s smug expression, the glint in his eyes that reminded him of an elusive professor, and the way he watched him carefully the way a parent would watch a child take its first steps, did he hesitate.

It wasn’t benign; it was as if he expected him to trip and fall over after attempting to take his first steps, taking pleasure in both the failure and success. Because both would end with Zhongli crossing the line one way or another, wouldn’t it? And there was nothing more enjoyable than sadism to somebody that’s seen it all already.

Right now he is fighting a losing battle. But he would rather starve than lose it here, so he hands the cup back to him, feeling a little more of his willpower crack.

Animal blood, by all accounts, is disgusting. It’s oily and sometimes he’d get sick, ending the night more ravenous than ever as if his skin were tightening around itself. You couldn’t just drink it—especially if you didn’t know where the animal has been. First you had to kill it neatly—a quick breaking of the neck would suffice, as strangulations were often drawn out—and then you had to clean it.

There was something almost humane in the process. Countless butchers have done it before, so he felt comfortable doing it himself.

It was only when he sunk his teeth into the carcass that he felt more like a vulture than anything else. The blood only staved off his hunger for short periods, so it was more of a painkiller than a sufficient meal.

And Osial found the whole thing to be hilarious.

“How unfortunate. If only Guizhong didn’t choose somebody that insisted on drinking animal blood, then it’d be more enjoyable. You know—if you open your mouth a little wider, you’ll look a bit more like the starving beast you are.” Then he dipped a finger in the cup and licked it as if it were chocolate, sweet and rich.

“Yes… Perhaps I should move onto better things. Do you think vampire blood is like wine? Or would age spoil its taste? I imagine that to a starving beast, there would be no difference—no matter how rotten your blood is, it’s still blood after all.”

Osial laughed and spit the blood out. “Well, you’re not wrong. This animal blood may be disgusting, but to you, what’s the difference?”

He wore his cruelty like a well-fitting suit, the creases shaped like ill-natured grins. Zhongli wondered if that will be him hundreds of years from now, but maybe Osial was always this unpleasant. Guizhong spoke of him the way somebody would talk about their ill-tempered cousin—sure, he’s awful to be around but he’s been a part of the family for so long already.

At the very least, he can provide a good meal. The question will always be for who, and his appetite is insatiable concerning all matters. Some vampires preferred a more barbaric approach of finding somebody, killing them, and then throwing the body away. Others—like Osial—treated it more like a game, drawing it out.

Sometimes he’d target entire families and call it a “feast” inviting others to join him. They were gruesome affairs that ended with many drunk on blood for weeks at a time, and even though he never went to them, he always heard about them.

Directly from Osial of course. Who seems intent on highlighting every small detail, every bloody death or desperate guest that was less than willing in the end but, Osial would say with delight, weren’t they all? As a matter of fact—and here was when he’d bring Guizhong into it, dragging her out of her room with her blueprints and models—Zhongli was very willing, wasn’t he?

“Up until he realized that he had to drink blood,” he’d say, as if he finally reached the punchline for a joke—then Osial would throw his head back with laughter.

And it’s not as if he hadn’t before. Sometimes, if he hurt himself, he would’ve licked the blood. But that tasted metallic—it was nothing like the delicacies that other vampires would set out, naming the meals by age, defining trait (sexual activity, lifestyle, etc.), and gender.

It took him fifty years for his willpower to break down. And he did it in front of Barbatos, who simply watched as he drank, not speaking of the way Zhongli drunkenly rambled for hours on end nor the way blood trickled down his neck and stained his clothing.

The deaths after that were easier. It was almost disappointing how he managed to replicate what Guizhong did with such ease. When he set the serviette over their chest before sinking his teeth into their jugular, he felt just like her.

Only when did he clean them up before burying them did he truly feel at rest. At the time it felt like appropriate compensation—a substitute for the promise he failed to keep for himself. The whole ordeal of washing the blood out of their matted hair and drying it out as he laid them down alleviated the sense of unease.

Guizhong would often watch him while he did it, pointing out certain anatomical features as she did. Her hands would trace over their veins, pressing down on the blue as she spoke. Osial joined them once, but he was so perturbed by the attention Zhongli dedicated to the process that he left immediately.

That was centuries ago.

He, sometime down the line, traded in these rituals for slaughter and abandoned that for mimicking the human lifestyle.

Barbatos would say that it’s been badly done, of course.

“You make the worst human,” he once said, as he watched Zhongli struggle to stomach garlic bread that he offered him.

Which could be why he’s now cornered by a vampire hunter.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is often frequented by vampires all around Teyvat—there are rumors of blood dealings with underground groups but the Milileth has never investigated it—and Zhongli, with no danger signals, happens to be one of them.

It doesn’t help that he works there too. The irony that all these years later he never quite rid himself of dealing with dead bodies isn’t lost on him.

And he did hear about the Fatui, because word about people hunting vampires travels fast in a country as busy as Liyue.

“Sir,” the vampire hunter informs him kindly, “you do know that this is a hub for vampires, right?”

The voice isn’t what shocks Zhongli. Neither is the maroon mask that’s hanging by the side of his head—one told to be notorious among only the most vicious of hunters—or the thin outlines of weapons in his clothes.

It’s his eyes. They’re a bright blue, usually associated with the sea on bright days, but they’re more akin to the vampires that Zhongli has seen before with the wild glint in his eyes. It’s jarring with the smile that he adopts as he asks, and he imagines opening his mouth to a pair of fangs.

He knows that he won’t find them though. If the rumors he hears are any indications, the Fatui are above recruiting any vampires that’ll threaten their operation.

“Ah. Yes. I do. I’m the consultant here, you see,” he explains politely.

And shouldn’t that be an indication that he’s a vampire? Hu Tao is notorious for her strange tastes. And he must know of the deals she makes with underground groups, the money and blood that’s traded between them.

“Oh!” the hunter’s expression brightens as he clasps his hands together. “I heard about you! I got to say—when they told me that the consultant was knowledgeable on all things Rex Lapis, I was expecting an old man.”

He doesn’t wait to explain who Rex Lapis is. This, of course, is a given seeing that Rex Lapis has become a household name, infamous for his butchery of both vampires and humans alike. But a hundred years later, Zhongli hoped, people would forget about him—or maybe get rid of the fanaticism in their voices when they spoke about him.

It’s quite discomforting, really.

“Well, I am old.”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah. You hardly look older than me. Call me Childe—I was hoping that you could, ah, answer a few questions I have on Rex Lapis. The 77th Master said that you’d be available and more than willing. She.. actually, here you go!”

Zhongli takes the paper he offers him, which says If you ask him anything, he’d be more than willing to spend the rest of the day answering it! in her rough cursive that he’s grown to dislike. Of course—the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is not beneath fraternizing with vampires or the Fatui.

But he prefers this much more than the vampires that stare at him as they struggle to place him in their ancient hierarchy. And this does work in his favor, he thinks. A vampire hunter wants to know more about him, Rex Lapis—wouldn’t this aid him in finally meeting his end?

So he politely smiles and gives him back the note, not missing how warm Childe’s skin is in comparison to his own. It’s been years since he’s touched a human without the intention of killing them, hasn’t it?

More than suitable then.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

#this is completely self indulgent my bad #osial #guizhong #zhongli #genshin impact #vampire zhongli

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transrightsjimin · 4 years ago

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more ranting abt welfare benefits hell

sorry for whining so much abt income on here, i know it should just be easy nd solveable by applying more for jobs, but the literal issue is that i have no skills or confidence (latter is according to my friend, but the way i cant envision handling any jobs well is jst the truth??) nd still havent gotten any help from the municipality w getting consulted by someone w more knowledge on the job market nd maybe being pushed to take on shitty jobs that at least perhaps pay better than mail delivery. it’s jst so frustrating how i requested welfare benefits over 4 months ago but it only counted since 3 months ago bc they kept fucking up w the requests, promised a payback for the lost month, but didnt, i believe?? now december we got nothing nd probably also january bc our ‘income was too high‘ for the minimum.

uh i side tracked nd forgot where i was going before, but i meant to say tht HALF A YEAR AGO i also requested help w getting help w jobs but bc bureaucratic bullshit it took until DECEMBER to get the help approved. and they would get me a contact person ‘surely before christmas, don’t worry!‘ and then they didn’t and replied they hadn’t forgotten about me and will surely help soon and i’m just. so fucking anxious about this all??

my parents help me financially w cash they gave (nd some of which came from my grandmas) (nd no im not happy w that bc one of them is doing worse financially but still wants to give it away, nd the other is dead nd my uncle gave her left over money to family which feels ironic bc hes a millionaire but only gives a bit from his dead mom??) so that i can buy groceries bc me and my friend’s paychecks + welfare benefits can only cover rent + food and so not also other bills such as for healthcare that i have to make payment plans for. and even w help w groceries i still end up in the negatives, especially last month bc we ‘made too much‘ to receive something. i dont even dare to sell clothing or anything online for money bc that’d only mean ‘income from hobbies’ they could see i have and thus more reason to get stripped from this too.

and that is just the whole issue!! the municipality runs all these checks and forms and calls and appointments and documents you need to hand in, but there is NO calculation determining what you actually need. instead, based on the type of household, we were categorized as fiscal partners without children who receive the benefits together and thus we receive benefits (in the months that we do) to add it up to the ‘living minimum‘ €1500 in total. this amount does not cover our actual expenses, nor does this match inflation or how social housing has been broken down as a system and that real estate owners can increase rent prices as much as they want. there is a monthly grant that tenants could receive for renting a home, but only if it is an apartment AND below 752,33 euros per month (which is when it is considered social housing, above that it’s the ‘free market‘), and that is just virtually impossible?? but we were not once asked if we can actually pay anything and the people meant to help us w benefits just don’t fucking get flex work contracts or how our income over a certain month is received way later in the month after that. like they have a stable job and just dont fucking get that it is not designed well for us.

i think my anxiety over this issue has gotten worse ever since the news came out that a dutch woman on benefits got a €7000 fine because her mom did groceries for her and that’s considered fraud??!! she couldn’t afford food so her mom bought groceries for her but that is also considered financial compensation and thus she got this huge fine, which she probably cannot afford and the fucked up thing w fines from institutions is that they ask interest over it if you don’t pay it in time or enough of it, and give more fines and even charge fees for something like you receiving a letter and they’re just free to pull this shit bc it’s a for-profit business. and that’s how ppl end up w debt and huge loans. it’s just so infuriating nd i really dont want a fine or lose the right to benefits. even though i prob wont get it for a while bc of my friend’s job that tends to make our incomes together reach just the ‘living minimum‘. i have this bill of €250 for adhd diagnosis, then monthly bills for meds that are €76 of which i can receive most back and ‘only’ need to pay €25 from it, then theres an orthodentist bill of around €92 bc i forget this insurance company still counts from back when i was w it the first time nd orthodontist stuff gets insured up to €1000 and that amount was used up like 10 years ago nd they still count like that despite me having had a different insurer in between.

i just need a stupid fcking job nd i hate to whine abt this bc theres so many ppl in much worse situations who ‘take initiative‘ nd start looking for jobs, but AGAIN i have no ‘basic’ skills like being able to listen and understand words well nd fast or show the right facial expressions or have good memory or dexterity or be able to answer difficult questions or focus on reading etc etc, nor do i i have an idea what job i should or could do.like i fcking need an income, moreover i need a break, im in this fcking burnout since like 2013 and in depression since at least 2004 lmfao but it’s never been recognized as bad enough by specialists bc im not suicidal, but it’s also not good to the point where i ever know if i felt ok. also just. i feel like i did use to have a bit more confidence in myself in high school but it all got sucked out of me in art college (bc horribly bigoted teachers + students and being taught that drawing well is in fact not at all important in the domestic market but rather being INNOVATIVE and NETWORKING and also COPYING is the way to success!! like not kidding, thats what teachers told us) nd by my parents (bc i became older nd didnt spontaneously do all these chores or jobs despite having no fcking clue how bc they never taught stuff). like i just dont know how ppl live comfortably w themselves and know what its like to be themselves nd not feel bad nd anxious abt everything

#rambles #family stuff #death mention / for grandma #this is a long rant im so sorry thisis a mess

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fonulyn · 5 years ago

Note

Sorry for spamming, this is the Anon from before. Could you please write some Metaltango with the prompt "Always"?

read on ao3 instead! | for this!

so ansgjkn I hope you’re not opposed to smut dear anon bc that’s what came of this… my deepest apologies lmao. I have no excuse I don’t know how my brain took it this way. but in my defense, there are also feelings?? (which Krauser is not happy about)

and there’s absolutely no need to apologize, feel free to pop into my askbox whenever you want! :D

–

The first time Krauser pushed Leon against a wall, he couldn’t believe his luck. Ever since he’d first laid eyes on Leon S. Kennedy he had wanted to mess him up, in the most delicious of ways. So maybe it had bordered on obsession how he’d dreamed of having those lips wrapped around him every single time he’d as much as closed his eyes, but hell, it wasn’t his fault if Kennedy was a fucking walking wet dream, a fantasy come real.

And to realize the real thing was even better than any fantasy he’d had? A part of Krauser knew he’d lose himself in whatever was brewing between them. He’d been lost the second he first fucked into that tight, willing body right there in the cheap motel room, against the wall right next to the door. At least they’d made it inside the room, and that was all because of Leon.

“Fucking hell,” Krauser got out through gritted teeth, his self-control in tethers already. He leaned in and pressed his face into Leon’s neck, bit hard in the curve where it met the shoulder. “I want to fucking destroy you.” If he’d had the presence of mind to realize how needy he sounded he might’ve felt a flash of embarrassment over that, but he had better things to focus on right now. Leon was hot and tight and perfect, and Krauser snapped his hips forward so hard the painting of a windmill rattled in its hook next to them.

Leon met the thrust with a strangled outcry, but contrarily to how the fantasy-Leon had always acted in Krauser’s mind, he didn’t go soft and pliant and just take what he was given. No. He was the bossiest, most demanding person Krauser had ever slept with. Not only did he push back to meet every single one of the harsh thrusts, but even laughed at the words that spilled from Krauser.

“You’re all talk,” Leon breathed out when Krauser slowed down for a bit, and the grin he threw over his shoulder was nothing short of infuriating, “don’t promise things you can’t give.”

“Yeah?” Krauser growled. He used one arm to push Leon’s shoulders firmly into the wall, kept him immobilized so that there was no leverage he could get to move like he had just a second earlier. His other hand he brought to the small of Leon’s back, forcing him to curve his spine as he was handled to the position Krauser wanted him in. “Remember,” Krauser smirked, “you asked for it.”

Then he slammed forward. Again and again. He set a punishing pace, so hard that sweat was dripping off him, soaking into the shirt he was still wearing, droplets falling onto Leon’s back. And a distant part of him might’ve thought he was actually hurting Leon with the brutal nailing, had it not been for the very vocal response that left no room for doubts on how much they were both enjoying this.

All too soon a raw cry tore its way from Leon’s throat as he came hard over the wall, without even being touched. Krauser didn’t even slow down, not before the final, near violent snap of his hips that sent him over the edge.

Next to them, the painting clattered to the floor

It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. And Krauser refused to feel any shame for it. It wasn’t the first casual relationship he’d had and wouldn’t be the last, and as long as he got to semi-regularly nail Leon into the mattress – or the nearest wall, or a table, who was picky? – he was damn sure going to keep coming back for more.

And that wasn’t even all of it. Leon was damn near magical with his mouth, and Krauser had no fucking idea how the hell Leon could reduce him to a needy, shivering mess with his tongue alone. Not that he’d admit it out loud, not to anyone, not even to Leon. Especially not to Leon.

So it was all about sex. It was about getting off, in various different positions, as many times as they could manage in a night. Or in fifteen minutes, depending on what they’d been able to squeeze in.

“C’mon,” Krauser urged, slipping his fingers into the blond strands of hair, “you can take more. Or do you need help down there, comrade?” He smirked down at Leon, who would’ve already told him to fuck off if he could’ve. Now though? Leon was blessedly occupied by several inches of Krauser’s rock hard dick, and there was no way he could speak around that.

Krauser used that to his advantage, a thrill running up his spine as he twisted his fingers into Leon’s hair and pulled a little, rewarded by a low groan in the back of Leon’s throat. “Was that a yes? You do need help?” he asked, and laughed throatily as again no answer was forthcoming. He took the yes, anyway, and used the tight grip he had of Leon’s hair to guide him further down his cock. “That’s it. That’s good.”

As if in retaliation Leon made a swallowing motion, his throat constricting around Krauser’s erection, and for a second all Krauser saw was white as the pleasure shot through him, bringing him teetering dangerously close to his orgasm. Somehow he managed to pull himself back from it, mouth hanging open and breaths coming in short gasps.

And when he looked down, it was clear triumph he saw in Leon’s cool blue eyes.

Fucking hell.

The look alone could’ve sent Krauser tumbling over the edge but then Leon repeated his action, and it was game over. Krauser came in hot spurts down Leon’s throat, his knees buckling with the force of his orgasm. And throughout it all he couldn’t stop staring into those blue, blue eyes as if he’d been fucking hypnotized.

Afterwards, when neither of them could honestly even move a single muscle anymore, Krauser kept lying awake in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Leon had passed out practically the second his head hit the pillow, and was out cold, unaware of everything going on around him. Unaware of the existential crisis he had thrown Krauser into with a fucking blowjob of all things.

It was just sex, Krauser told himself. Just really, really good sex. With someone really, really gorgeous. Who happened to like the same things he did, who was fierce and demanding, who gave as good as he got, who kept surprising Krauser with every single meeting they had even after all of this time.

There was something about the way Leon could be both vulnerable and unbreakable at the same time that kept pulling Krauser in.

Throughout the night, Krauser didn’t sleep a wink.

Three days after his sleepless night filled with uncomfortable epiphanies, Krauser went to the first bar he found and picked up the first person he found attractive. Sure the man had good legs, blue-grey eyes and light hair, but that didn’t mean anything. It was just the type Krauser found attractive, and everyone had a type, there was nothing deep about that. Nothing.

Then Krauser was balls-deep in the man, whose name he hadn’t even bothered to memorize, and suddenly it felt wrong. The way the man moved, the way he sounded, the way he looked… it was all different and it was all wrong and it was nothing Krauser wanted. He tried closing his eyes, tried to just focus on the sensations, because fucking hell, a warm hole was a warm hole, he could get off with anyone.

Except less than five minutes later Krauser was zipping up his pants, literally fleeing the hotel room, ignoring the questions and curses that were shouted after him.

Without looking back, Krauser walked until he found another bar. This time he didn’t even look at anyone else but ordered himself a row of shots, downing every single one of them without hesitation. Only when he was so smashed drunk he could barely walk, swaying dangerously with every single step, he could forget the mortifying feeling in his chest when his heart had been screaming at him for picking up that stranger.

Another twinge of guilt sparked somewhere in the pit of his stomach and Krauser grabbed the first bottle of liquor he could reach over the counter, threw some bills on the counter for compensation without even counting them, and proceeded to empty the bottle in the closest empty booth he managed to drag himself into.

What the fuck, Krauser thought, had his life become. As much as he tried to think nothing at all, he couldn’t get rid of the blue eyes that kept haunting him. “Get out of my head, Leon,” he slurred out, probably so garbled that no one near him could understand a word.

What they did understand though was the entire row of curses that Krauser got out before he doubled over, threw up the contents of his stomach all over the floor, and promptly passed out with the empty bottle still in his grip.

Of course, after Krauser sobered up, he pretended like nothing had happened. As far as he was considered nothing had happened. Nothing needed to change and the next time they’d meet up they’d continue having great sex. Nothing more, nothing less. So when Leon messaged him with an address Krauser already knew was a motel, he didn’t hesitate.

When he got to the motel Leon was already waiting for him, standing in the middle of the room, grinning at him like he knew how much Krauser had hurried to be there on time. The first instinct for Krauser was to shut him up, preferably with his dick, so determinedly he strode forward and grabbed a hold of the blond strands of hair, leaning in to scrape his teeth over the side of that gorgeous neck.

“Right for the jugular,” Leon laughed, the sound turning into a low moan as he tilted his head a little, offered up more soft skin to be marked. “That is so like you, Jack.” He sounded like he was both amused and turned on, and his hands had already found their way to Krauser’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

A snarky remark was already on the tip of Krauser’s tongue, ready to be fired, but when he pulled back he stopped in his tracks. He shifted his hand, his thumb brushing down to Leon’s cheek, and there it was again. That strange twinge in his chest. The feeling that he’d tried to drown in alcohol and thought he’d successfully murdered.

“Jesus, Leon. Your…” eyes, eyes eyes eyes, the blue flame that kept burning into the deepest darkest corners of Krauser’s heart, had melted something that he had already thought was frozen forever, if it existed at all. But admitting that out loud? There was a better chance for Hell freezing over than for Krauser saying those words. So he dropped his gaze down, brushed his thumb from Leon’s cheek to his lips, dipping it between them. “…mouth.”

Either Leon didn’t notice the hesitation or he simply didn’t care, as all he did was grin. “Want me to suck you off?” he asked, the words unclear because Krauser hadn’t withdrawn his finger and Leon had to form the words around it. Not that he minded, obviously. Quite the contrary, he even teasingly flicked his tongue up the pad of Krauser’s thumb, as if to show what he was talking about.

“No,” Krauser got out, almost choking on the single word. Somehow he managed to get a grip, though, and pulled his hand back to grab Leon’s jaw between his palms. Without another word he yanked him in and crashed their mouths together. Leon gasped into it, but it only took a couple of seconds for him to catch up, and soon enough he was kissing back with fervor.

As often as they’d slept together, this was still somewhat an uncharted territory. They didn’t usually kiss a lot. Hell, they’d fucked facing each other less than half a dozen times. But now Krauser couldn’t stop. And Leon didn’t seem to mind.

Even when Leon’s legs were wrapped around Krauser’s hips, his heels digging into the small of Krauser’s back, and there was no air left in Krauser’s lungs to even fucking breathe properly, he kept on kissing him. It meant sacrificing some of his leverage, kept the thrusts short, but as best as he could Krauser kept on slamming into the willing body beneath his, time and time again.

As he was nearing his climax, Krauser reached out and placed his palm on top of Leon’s on the mattress. Later on he would claim that no one in their right mind could produce a clear thought at a moment like that. He may have done it, but he certainly didn’t mean anything by it. He wasn’t a guy who did something sappy as fuck like handholding during a good fuck.

Whatever it was, whatever his excuses, the fact remained.

Krauser laced his fingers with Leon’s. And held on. Even after they were lying spent in a sweaty heap of limbs, he didn’t let go. Even when he listened to the heavy, deep breaths Leon took while fast asleep, he didn’t let go.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

#my fics #metaltango #kreon #jack krauser #leon s kennedy #idek lol #i always write krauser so friggin' in love with leon #altho he'd never admit to it #8D #Anonymous #ask and i shall answer #replies #chatty chat chat #my kreon fics

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utopianvoices · 6 years ago

Text

bittersweet | k.seungmin

↭ genre: barista au; fluff

↭ word count: 4.24k

↭ description: Your blind date went to the depths of shit, but was that an entirely bad thing?

↭ a/n: finally a seungmin fic aksdj i always feel some kind of guilt when i don’t see fics under certain members :( it’s also not proofread oops hehe hope y’all like it!! x

↭ warnings: explicit language

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Come on, Y/n. Just one date?” your best friend pestered you. “You haven’t been out in that field for months and don’t you think it’s time to move on from Mr. Dickhead?”

“This is the fifth time you’re asking me this week, and my answer is still no, Minho,” you said calmly, letting out a sigh once again, shaking your head. “You’re making me sigh so much, I’m going to grow older faster.”

Truth be told, you were heartbroken.

It was your first-ever relationship, lasting for about a year and a half when suddenly, said boyfriend wasn’t giving you as much attention and love as before. No calls, no texts, fewer meetups, and more avoidance.

It had started about a year into your relationship — which you thought to be the happiest time of your relationship, seeing that you had reached the first milestone. But fate had different plans.

Initially, you just made excuses for him, blaming it on practices (he was on the school’s basketball team), convincing yourself that he couldn’t hang out with you because he was too tired after practice. But once off-seasons hit, you were left with no other reason to hold on to your relationship. The truth was glaring in your face, and yet you still decided to put on your pair of ignorant sunglasses and carry on as if nothing was wrong.

The first hit was when you saw him out at a restaurant with his teammates, after telling you that he was not able to hang out with you because he was down with a really bad flu and had to stay in bed.

It was like the whole universe was trying to convince you to let him go, that he was definitely not worth your time and energy.

You still didn’t let go.

Years of watching clichéd and unrealistic rom-coms had started to take its toll on the rational part of your brain, the part that was screaming the very obvious and correct answer at you, every time you saw him. You wished you had listened to that part of you, because a few days later, you saw him show up to school with another girl, arms around her waist, looking the happiest he has ever looked.

Your eyes met from across the hallway, one pair reflecting hurt and the other nonchalance. He felt zero remorse for what he had done, and that was what hurt the most.

"Am I bad in relationships?” you asked out of the blue, surprising the boy beside you. “Am I going to be single for the rest of my life?”

“No, Y/n. You’re not bad. You just happened to fall for the wrong person. But trust me, when you find the right one, you’ll have a blast because that’s what you deserve,” Minho said firmly, sending you a slight smile at the end of his little speech.

“You know, you’re not that bad when you’re not acting like a sassy little bitch,” you say, blocking the pillow that came flying towards not a second later, soft chuckles escaping your mouth. “But really, thanks Minho. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Die alone.”

“And, he’s back,” you say, rolling your eyes at your intolerable best friend. “So... Um, what were you saying about that date?”

And as those words leave your mouth, you get the shock of your life, because you have never seen your best friend get that excited.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Pushing the door to the little coffee shop near your campus, the little bell tinkles above your head, causing a series of “Welcome” to echo through your ears as the workers behind the cafe put on the brightest and fakest smile to make sure you believe that they’re having the time of their lives working long hours after school, and occasionally dealing with snobs just to make sure they’re able to afford basic necessities such as air, water, food, and shelter.

Walking up to the counter, you are served by a face you had never seen before, considering the fact that you were a regular and loyal customer. If your mind wasn’t occupied with pre-date jitters, you totally would’ve chosen the table at the far right — perfect view, and all — to admire the faces stressing out behind the counter.

“Hi! What can I get you today?” the boy speaks up, flashing you a smile that almost made you think he enjoyed serving you.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte, please,” you say, fishing around your bag for your wallet, as the boy in front of you entered your order into the machine. After considering it for a while, you decided to get something for your date as well. “Actually make that two vanilla lattes. And a chocolate chip muffin too.”

The boy nods, adding your extra orders in. “Can I get your name?” he asks, grabbing a marker, tip hovering over the plastic cup, as waited for an answer.

“Y/n.”

“Nice name,” he said with a smile, not looking up at you as he wrote it down. “Here for a first date?”

Taken aback by his straightforward behaviour, you look up, surprised that he had noticed. “Yea, how’d you notice?”

He moves over a few steps towards the coffee machine, as he starts prepping your drink, causing your feet to involuntarily shuffle towards the direction in which he was moving.

“Your body language kind of gave it away,” he started, speaking over the loud coffee machine. “Psych major, and all that. Why so nervous?”

Ah.

“It’s because I don’t even know the guy,” you said, and immediately realising how that sounded, frantically added more to your sentence. “I mean, it’s a blind date, of sorts. My best friend wouldn’t stop bugging me to go on a date because apparently, I need to move on from horribles ex’s.”

The boy in front of you nodded understandingly, finishing up your order during your little rant. You were not sure why you opened up to him —a complete stranger. But somehow it didn’t feel forced. On the contrary, it felt almost natural.

“Well, here’s your order Ms. Y/n, and I hope you have a great date!” he said, passing you the tray with your drinks and confectionary on it, nodding with a smile as he noticed you had tipped him quite generously. What? Anyone who listened to one of your rants deserved some kind of compensation.

Mhm, sure. Definitely not because he was cute or anything.

You rolled your eyes to yourself, ignoring the little voice that was whispering absurd but otherwise true things in your mind.

You walk over to the back of the cafe and whip out your phone, tapping on your frequently contacted list and drafting a message to the number at the top of that list.

you: whr is he cat boy: patience, little one. he said he’s reaching cat boy: you’re sitting at the back right? you: yea cat boy: he said he’s there. look for someone wearing red plaid. g’luck be urself cat boy: but not too much bcs u’ll scare him away you: gtfo cat boy: if he says anything stupid or is mean just sent me a text. he might be sung’s friend, but anyone who messes with my best friend answers to my hammer-like fists you: mjölnir is shaking in thor’s hands

Putting your phone away, you look up, and true enough, you see a rather dashing boy in red plaid, standing at the entrance and looking towards the back of the cafe in confusion. Unsure of what to do, you awkwardly raise your hand, in hopes that he would understand your pathetic attempts in trying to get him to notice you without attracting too much attention.

Soon enough the both of you made eye contact, a smile blooming on his face as he walked over towards you.

“Hi, I’m Hyungsik! Jisung’s friend,” he said, extending a hand out. “You must be Y/n.”

You reach over and shake his hand, returning his smile with your own, letting out a “yes” to his question.

“I got a drink for you!” you said, pushing one of the lattes towards him. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I just went with a safe option,”

“Oh no, I don’t drink coffee from here,” he said, pushing the cup back towards you. “The ingredients are cheap and low quality, my body just won’t be able to accept it.”

Thinking back to the days where you lived off of instant noodles because you just were too lazy to cook for yourself, or when you finished a whole tub of ice cream while watching a movie, you felt your face slowly heat up as you let out an awkward chuckle, hoping that he’d drop that topic.

“Actually I wouldn’t really have chosen this place — not really my scene. I usually go over to the cafe on Main Street,” he continued, adding more and more details about the exquisite dishes they serve there and the ingredients they use.

Just as you were starting to zone out (something that you should never be doing on a date), another question was thrown in your way.

“So, Y/n, what is your family like?”

“Uh, so I have my parents and no siblings. They live in-” you started, but got cut off almost right after.

“Mhm interesting. Do they own any companies or any own businesses?”

Now you were confused.

“No they don’t?” you answered, your answer sounding more like a question.

You noticed the slight fall of expression from his face, as he heard that you were not some rich spoiled brat who got plenty of money from her parents.

“I see. Because you know, my ex-girlfriend’s parents had this huge company? Really rich people, just like my parents,” he continued, once again falling into a whole ramble about how great his ex-girlfriend was or something like that; you weren’t listening.

Instead, you were hurriedly typing on your phone, as you just continued to smile and nod at something the boy in front of you was saying.

you: sos you: can you call me and start crying or smth you: i’m going to kill myself if i hear him talk about how his dog shits gold or wtv you: minhO CHECK UR PHONE ITS A LEVEL 9 EMERGENCY you: ugh you suck

Realising that your best friend wasn’t going to come to your rescue, you resorted to cutting the boy off with the lamest excuse you can think of.

“Hey, can you give me a moment? My hands are kind of dirty after eating the muffin,” you say, slowly getting up even before you could receive an answer.

“Um sure,” the boy in front of you said, looking slightly perturbed at the fact that someone could even afford to get their hands dirty. Not in his rich household.

Shooting him a final smile, you walk over to the small sink at the side of the cafe, gripping the sides of the sink as you regulate your breathing, unsure of how to get away from that not-so-amazing date you were having.

“Need help?”

Your head whipped up at the familiar voice, as the barista who made you your order stood beside you, tray in hand, as he looked upon you with concern. Who would blame him though — you looked like you were about to enter panic mode any moment.

“I-I, uh-” you stuttered, internally smacking yourself for not being able to form coherent sentences making you look more of an idiot than you already seemed like. But thankfully, someone was able to put two and two together.

“Bad date, huh?” he said, setting the tray down on the counter beside him and shooting you a sad smile.

You let out a breath of relief, somewhat happy that you didn’t have to explain yourself. “Yeah. I’m trying to think of ways to escape.”

“I’ve got an idea. Wanna hear it?”

“Colour me interested.”

Smiling at your response, the boy laid out his plans in front of you, making you both feel like you were in another episode of True Detective or something.

“When you go back there, just make small conversation for five minutes. My shift’s over, so I’ll come there and pretend to be your best friend, saying there’s some emergency. Once we convince him that someone’s dying, we’ll go out the back door and escape from there. Cool?”

“Totally cool.”

With an encouraging nod from the boy in front of you, you take a deep breath and walk towards the dreaded table at the back, as you see your date scrolling through his phone, impatient sighs escaping him every 10 seconds.

“I’m back!” you say, faking some enthusiasm as you finally take a seat. “Sorry, there was a problem with the... tap.”

Hearing your voice, Hyungsik set his phone down onto the table, smiling at your return. “Ah, you see, that’s the problem with these low-quality cafes. Nothing ever works right.”

And just like that, you both were back to your conversation about how he thought Gucci was better than Louis Vuitton. Not that you could relate, your go-to was definitely plain ol’ H&M.

As promised, four minutes later, you were met with a frantic looking boy, dressed in a dark blue denim jacket and a pair of black jeans.

“Hey Y/n! I’ve been trying to call your phone for the past half an hour! You’ve got to come with me now,” he said, hands flailing around frantically as you were trying to best to hold back the laugh that was threatening to spill out any moment.

“Hey....” you started, coming to a sudden halt as you realised something. You didn’t know this boy’s name. But you were not going to let that small setback hinder your whole plan.

“Hey... Bob! Long time no see,” you say, mentally facepalming yourself for thinking of the lamest name ever. “What’s up? Sorry, I’m just on a really amazing date right now that I couldn’t check my phone.”

Okay, maybe you were exaggerating a bit, but who cares? You had to milk out the best outcome possible from this little skit.

“Oh hi. I’m Bob, Y/n’s best friend. Sorry to cut your amazing date short, but I really gotta bring Y/n with me now. Her dog was just admitted to the hospital,” he said, not even sparing Hyungsik, who was now looking extremely confused, a glance.

“What? I better leave now. Sorry for cutting the date short, Hyungsik!” you said, quickly grabbing your things and leaving before your date figured out what was happening with your terrible acting.

“Yea... See you-” Hyungsik started, but was left alone before he could finish his sentence.

You sprint out the back door, as planned, with “Bob” leading the way, falling into a heap of laughter as you were sure the door was closed behind you.

“What kind of a name is Bob?! Seriously, Y/n?” the boy asked, trying to catch his own breath after the laughing fit.

“I’m sorry, I don’t do well under pressure!” you defended yourself, wiping the stray tears that escaped the corners of your eyes. “Hey, but thank you so much for helping me out. I probably would’ve gone mad.”

“Anytime!” he said, finally settling down only to warm your heart with a small smile on his face. “It’s Seungmin, by the way.”

“Definitely better than Bob.”

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

As you open the door to your shared apartment, you are almost immediately engulfed in a hug, as this person hugging you chants “I’m sorry” over and over again like some cult leader.

“Okay, Minho, I got it. You can let go now.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to charge my phone like who does that?” your best friend screeched, tugging at his hair as he looked at you as if he had committed a murder. “I’m a horrible best friend.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics and grab him by the collar, dragging him towards the couch and throwing him on it. “Nobody died. I’m alive and fine. Phones die all the fucking time. Get your shit together, Lee Minho.”

“B-but...” your friend stuttered, pout already forming on his lips.

If there was one thing about Minho that everyone knew about, it was his tendency to blame everything on himself. Even if it wasn’t his fault and he had no control over it whatsoever.

“Enough about that. Are you gonna hear my interesting story or not?” you said, a playful smirk playing at your lips as your best friend perks up at the fact that you were about to share your day with him.

Nodding his head to signify that he was ready and listening, you narrated that day’s happenings.

“So, basically he was cute and all, but all he could talk about was how high class he was? And how he didn’t like to enter, and I quote, low-class cafes,” you say, earning an offended gasp from Minho. “And on top of that, he looked disappointed when he found out that I didn’t own some hugeass business or whatever.”

“Dick.”

“Mhm, right. That’s when I messaged you and tried my best to get out of the situation, but you couldn’t reply,” you continue, hastily adding on a “but that wasn’t your fault because phone batteries suck,” when you see Minho’s face drop into a slight pout.

“I had to get out of that place so I just went over to the sink and tried to think of ways to escape when the barista that took my order offered to help,” you say, thinking back to Seungmin’s cute smile. “So he just came over and pretended to be my best friend and said there was an emergency and kind of just dragged me away through the back door.”

You were unaware of the fact that your face softened at the mention of your saviour, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the boy in front of you, who was studying your every facial expression since you started your little story.

“Barista, huh?” Minho started, smirk evident on his face. “Was he cute?”

You slowly felt the heat creep up your cheeks as you fiddled with your fingers, a sign that you were flustered.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, yes it does, Y/n. It matters a whole lot,” Minho teased, glad that he had grabbed the perfect opportunity to annoy you. “It matters because the blush on your face is giving me many, many indications on how you feel about this barista of yours.”

“Shut your mouth, dipshit. There’s nothing like that,” you counter, desperately praying for the heat to leave your face.

“Whatever you say, m’love.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time, leaving to prepare for bed, as that day’s events replayed in your mind. You weren’t sure how to feel about the barista occupying your mind, but all you knew was that you had to see him again.

After all, you didn’t manage to get his number.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The familiar ring of the small bell fills your ear as you step foot into the same cafe you were in four days ago. You had actually planned to go the day after, but you were, sadly, a college student who apparently had to go to classes to make sure your grades don’t fall below expectations.

“Welcome to SKZ ca-” Seungmin started, instinctively, until he saw the person who had entered the cafe. “Y/n! You’re back!”

“I am!” you say, with equal enthusiasm, as you walk up towards the counter and get your wallet ready.

“Another blind date?” Seungmin teased, wiping his hands on a paper towel as he walked up towards the main counter.

“Shut up,” you deadpanned, shaking your head at the boy’s little jab. “I came here for some caffeine because I am currently behind on my assignments and I don’t really feel like repeating this semester. Any drinks to recommend?”

“Relatable,” Seungmin grimaced, thinking about the pile of assignments in his bag that was locked up in the staff locker. “How about an iced americano? The ice will definitely make sure that you’re wide awake, maybe more so than the coffee itself.”

“Sure, anything to keep me from snoring away on that table,” you replied, letting a tired sigh escape your lips. “I wish Minho was here to study with me, ugh. I hate studying alone.”

Although that last sentence was muttered under your breath, Seungmin’s ear still caught it, his mind immediately whirring with solutions.

“I finish my shift in about an hour,” he started cautiously, not knowing what your answer would be. “Maybe, we could study together?”

You freeze on the spot and slowly look up at the boy in front of you, unsure if you had heard him correctly, but the look on his face told you that you had heard him perfectly well.

You let out a breathy laugh and nod your head. “Sure, I’d love that.”

“Great! Drink’s on me then!” Seungmin grinned, fishing out his own card to pay for your drink and the muffin (he took the liberty to add it in for you), and left to make the drink before you could even start to protest.

You shake your head and walk towards the table against the window, big enough for two people, and set your heavy bag down as you plopped onto one of the seats.

Not wasting any time, you grab your laptop and your notes, diving right into your assignments, afraid that you’d change your mind and go back home if you procrastinated one second longer.

One hour later, you’re halfway through your drink and there are crumbs left on the pastry plate, as you hurriedly type away on your laptop, initially not noticing Seungmin walking towards your table, out of his work attire and school bag slung over his shoulders.

“Move slightly forward and you’ll fall into your computer screen,” a familiar voice rang out, causing you to snap out of your bubble and focus on the boy taking his seat in front of you. “I’m surprised you don’t wear glasses.”

“I do wear glasses, just not often,” you replied, going back to your essay on how Shakespeare had made a change in the world’s arts. Seriously, who cared. All you got out from your literature lectures were that you could annoy Minho by talking in Shakespearean English for a whole day. He definitely did not appreciate that.

Realising that you were in your zone and that he shouldn’t disturb you, Seungmin grabbed his own pile of worries and got to work, the fatigue of working a four-hour shift after school slowly catching up to him.

Three hours later, and you finally stop tapping away incessantly on your computer, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head.

“Hey Seungmin, I’m do-” you started, but abruptly cut yourself off as you see Seungmin’s head resting on his hand, eyes closed as he let out even breaths, indicating that he was fast asleep.

Seeing that he was exploring dreamland, you took this opportunity to admire the boy’s features, in a non-creepy way, of course. The way his left cheek was slightly chubbier than his right, and the little mole on his cheek, or even how brown his eyes we- Wait.

You shouldn’t be able to see the colour of his eyes if he was sleeping.

Just like that, you stare into the eyes of the cute barista in front of you, unable to tear your gaze away, even as colour rushes to your cheek as you realise that you have been caught admiring him.

“Take a picture, Y/n, it’ll last longer,” he said, not passing up on the opportunity to tease you even though it had been less than a minute since he was awake.

“I-I wasn’t staring,” you started, immediately falling into defensive mode, as embarrassment took over every cell in your body. “I was about to wake you up, okay.”

“Sure,” he humoured you, but not stopping the smile that was spreading across his face.

“Oh, look at the time! It’s time for me to go back!” you said, frantically packing up your things as you wished to get away from the cafe as far as possible until you were sure that your heart wasn’t going to burst.

But just as you were reaching for the last piece of paper on your desk, a hand stopped you, forcing you to look up at the boy who’s eyes you had been avoiding for the past few minutes.

“Um, do you think we can do this tomorrow?” he started, eyes darting around everywhere except your eyes. “But without the studying?”

You could feel your heart abruptly stop, as your mind slowly processed the question that had just left Seungmin’s mouth. Was he implying what you thought was implying? The only way to find out was to ask.

“Like a date?” you asked, voice small due to the lack of courage.

“Like a date,” the boy confirms, eyes finally meeting yours, as he awaits your answer.

It hadn’t been long since you met him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that something was blossoming between you, whether it be a strong friendship or something more. And you were willing to find out.

“Let’s do it.”

∞ end ∞

#skz-writersnet #skzwriters #district9net #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin #dee scribbles

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makeroomforthejolyghost · 4 years ago

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this started off as navelgazing about a line from a book, then turned into an anxious rant about current events

“Inborn in nearly every artist is a tendency to accept injustice if it creates beauty” (Death in Venice, 21). well, idk about inborn, bc i had to go out of my way to shed the opposite tendency, but i do think it’s true that this mentality is necessary for… art and also other kinds of thought, anything where you need unfettered curiosity. but the painting of it as a vice interests me lately, because i’m starting to think i may have gone too far in this direction? the quoted line speaks to an assumption that indignation is a thing you should practice whenever relevant so you don’t lose it. that if something strikes you as unfair, you should always prioritize that impression over everything else you might notice about the situation that provokes that response. in this scene, that even though it’s not clear how it would help anyone for aschenbach to disapprove of this family’s treatment of the three daughters, it’s still a vice for him to brush it aside because he likes watching the son whose personality he thinks results from this favoritism.

i think we assume this because we fear that failing to deplore an instance of injustice when we see it makes us complicit? which, in and of itself, is clearly not true; that’s just thoughtcrime. like: unless you maintain that it’s his responsibility to tell the parents off, or to do something nice for the girls to compensate,* there’s no reason to view aschenbach’s feeling of “yeah well that sucks but it’s interesting to watch” as any worse than thinking “those terrible parents! how dare they deprive three out of four of their kids in this way”? bc there’s no consequential difference.

but. i think… maybe there is something to be said for cultivating this habit? because, at least for me, this kinda has led to a sort of complacency, a feeling that it’s not my place to judge people (or that there’s nothing i can do to fix injustice when i see it, but mostly the first thing: i tend to assume i don’t know enough about other people’s situations to judge, much less to try to correct or advise people). and that’s true??? like, in part i think this mental habit must have grown out of the axiom not to give medical advice to chronically ill people. i… have a tendency to internalize advice across the board, rather than situationally. i.e., to take this as meaning, “people know more about their own problems than you do,” and also, as meaning, “they’re already doing their best; nobody fails on purpose.” and generalizing that to situations where the “failure” is one of cruelty rather than of just not being as healthy/happy as it seems to you people should be. like: i have rooted out just-world hypothesis so thoroughly, i have so much contempt for that “obviously it’s possible to be better” mentality, that i apply it even when what i see looks to me like. someone being mean to their children. and to a certain extent this seems right to me??? like, parents fearing everyone around them thinks they’re evil because their kid is crying, when really all they deprived this poor child of is a piece of candy she found on the floor, is a real thing, and, i honestly cannot think of a time when i’ve seen a parent say or do something harsh to their child where something like this couldn’t easily have been the explanation. plus, the possibility they might take it out on their children still exists!

but i think maybe the specifics here are confusing the question? either that or the question is so abstract/fake that it’s not one i need to answer. so here: the root of my anxiety is this: i sometimes worry there’s something wrong with me because i’m not obsessed with the BLM protests going on, or at least, not in the way so many people imply i should be. it’s not that i lack empathy for the victims?—i do tear up when i think too hard about george floyd, or that man with the food cart who used to serve the cops for free. it’s just… that this sense of injustice doesn’t lead to any conviction. i don’t feel the righteousness of the protests; i’m detached enough to wonder intellectually about their effectiveness. although?? i guess that’s not wholly true either, because when i first heard about them my very first thought was “OH GOD NO NOT THIS AGAIN! YOU’RE ALL GONNA GET KILLED!”—a combination of fear at what might (…would, from today’s perspective) happen to the people involved, and dismay at the knowledge i was going to have to perform supportiveness about it.

for the record: i do think police brutality is evil, and that the police are corrupt and overpowered and groomed to be racist; also, from what i’ve heard, the protests have helped create a lot of policy changes, so from that standpoint i guess i support them. or, at least, congratulate them on a job well done. but: i think holding protests during a pandemic is fucking insane, especially since the thing protestors demand a stop to is unnecessary death. people keep telling me this is a crucial moment for the black community, and i think that at this point that’s true, but, afaik there’s no good strategic reason we can point to for why it had to be now, and i don’t like… well ok, let me start again. i wouldn’t mind having to say “yeah, well, straw that broke the camel’s back,” if i didn’t feel like that excuse precluded all criticism of the protests’ timing.** in my own life, when i reflect on times in my life when i’ve done things whose consequences i regret, i often have to conclude that under the circumstances i can’t have expected anything better from myself. but i still get to say i shouldn’t have done that. maybe i’m being greedy with my cake here, i just. ugh. it just pisses me off, the hypocrisy about covid, because the whole point of lockdowns and social distancing &c. was that no one person’s or group’s interests outweigh the risks to the human race at large. but now it’s apparently more important for even the unaffected members of said human race to stand in solidarity with the minorities who are affected by this latest crisis--as in, literally stand there, in public, right next to them, even if that means that two weeks later they come down with the plague. like?? you can’t even say “but this is a matter of life and death”! because covid is an even wider-reaching matter of life and death!!!!

also, the most common justification i hear is that the number of horrible things we’ve seen the police inflict on protestors proves we need to keep protesting. and politically speaking that does seem to be working? but IT’S STILL KIND OF FUCKING GHOULISH to hear that we as a nation have a responsibility to give the cops more opportunities to kill innocent people. like. i can intellectually say “yes, you’re right, i think it’s working,” but i can’t seem to feel that as a duty or a righteous cause.

…what was my point again? oh right: that i worry this makes me a Bad Person, or at least that everyone around me would think i was a Bad Person if i told them how i felt. and that i specifically worry my emotions are wrong, because i should be having… the kind of patriotism proust talks about (though for BLM and the left &c. rather than for america itself, obviously), but instead i’m like “aaagh ok fine if you have to but GOD I WISH THIS WOULD STOP.” and apparently, wanting it to stop means siding with the oppressors. and i guess… god, do you know what it is? honestly, i’m so short-sighted that a return to the status quo does sound better to me than this chaos. i don’t disbelieve people who assert that only a bitter fight like this can force change? intellectually i think maybe that’s true. but emotionally, i hate it, and on an animal level i don’t really believe it. the animal in me believes only that positive change is slow and unsatisfying, regardless of how you accomplish it.

*both of which seem to me Too Risky because option a might end with their harassing the girls over it (e.g., “this stranger over here thinks you’re being mistreated. if he only knew you like i do…!”), while option b, coming from an older, solitary man, might strike both the girls and their parents as a creepy, lecherous thing, in which case the girls might view it as insulting or even traumatizing rather than as a favor to them.

**especially the timing of protests like the one in my own town last weekend. they marched to the city police station--even though the one widely-known violent incident in our town in the last decade was perpetrated by the university police department--on, afaict, general ACAB principle. my friend who attended says the anger felt real, not just like a performance, but they weren’t agitating for any concrete changes here, you know?? so idg why it was worth infecting people.

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stevienicksrps · 5 years ago

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i am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner

characters: tabitha smalls, andy vega words: 1107 notes: a snippet from my short-lived nanowrimo project that i enjoyed writing :) (also i used tom’s diner lyrics bc I HAD TO)

In the hours of the early morning after Tabitha called Andy, panicked, unable to pinpoint why she needed the reassurance that he was safe but convinced he was in danger, she offered to drive him out to a 24-hour diner for something between a late-night snack and an early breakfast.

They sat on opposite sides of the small booth, with fluorescent lighting overhead that was so bright Tabitha felt like she needed to squint. Andy was slouched over on his side, his chin tucked to his chest, and if it weren’t for the occasional sip of the coffee she’d ordered for them both, Tabitha might have thought he was asleep.

“More people here than I would have expected,” she commented idly, looking around at the small diner. There was a group of high school kids, winding down from a night out, throwing pieces of straw wrappers at each other and taking french fries off each others’ plates. There was an older man, about her father’s age, reading the newspaper in a booth on the other side of the establishment. There was even a family, taking a break from their road trip, their kids nodding off in their seats.

“Maybe they had bad dreams that woke them up, too,” Andy offered casually, and when Tabitha looked back at him with a scowl he just let out a laugh.

“I said I was sorry.”

Their waitress, a tired-looking young woman who had smiled warmly at them both when taking their orders, dropped off the pancakes that she’d told them were her kids’ favorite, along with scrambled eggs and bacon.

They divvied up their food without much fuss, the only sound made between them coming from the clanging of the forks and knives against their plates. Strains of soft rock floated throughout the diner, a song Tabitha had heard hundreds of times as a child and was not particularly fond of.

She rubbed a hand against her face, reaching for her own cup of coffee. Going back to sleep after finishing their meal was pointless by this time, but she hadn’t gotten enough quality sleep to do anything requiring much energy today. So the coffee would have to compensate.

“So,” Andy asked between bits of his pancakes that he’d absolutely drenched in syrup -- weird, because Tabitha didn’t take him for having a sweet tooth. “What happened in the dream that got you so worked up, anyway?”

Tabitha stiffened, unsure how exactly to answer the question. Not much of her dream had been comprehensible. There were flashes of lights, a few symbols showing up -- an owl, for one, and the ocean waves again, but nothing particularly concerning. There were voices calling out, but Tabitha hadn’t discerned what, if anything, they were saying. The sense of impending doom didn’t set in until after she’d woken, and her heart started racing like she’d had a vision of things to come.

“It wasn’t really anything that happened,” she said hesitantly, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t even remember that much from it. It was more the feeling it gave me.”

The explanation sounded silly to her own ears, and a flush started creeping up her neck as Tabitha wondered what Andy must think of her, freaking out over seemingly nothing.

So far this summer he’d saved her from drowning, taught her to swim, defended her from a creep at a bar, and now he was entertaining her irrational behavior.

But then … Tabitha had never had a feeling so strong as the one she’d had not two hours ago. That danger was imminent, that Andy was in the path of something treacherous, that if she didn’t have him standing right in front of her that she couldn’t guarantee his safety.

Andy gave her a long, searching look, and then his lips quirked upwards into a small, if smug, smile.

“Well it seems pretty obvious,” he stated, and Tabitha narrowed her eyes at him.

“By all means, then, spell it out for me, because for the life of me I can’t figure out what happened.” She took another sip of her coffee.

“You’re in love with me.”

Tabitha immediately choked on her beverage, her wracking coughs drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the diner. When she’d calmed, she looked at Andy incredulously.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” she said.

“I mean, I get it. You want me, you wanted to get me alone … this was a pretty good way to do it,” he teased, a gleam in his eye that Tabitha was beginning to recognize as a sign that she was about to be mortified.

“Shut up,” she whined, and took a piece of bacon off of his plate as retribution.

“You have bacon on your own plate,” he protested, pointing to her food.

“Yeah but it just looked so much better on yours,” she replied without missing a beat, looking at him while licking the grease off her index finger. His eyes widened slightly, and she immediately stopped what she was doing. Andy cleared his throat and Tabitha fixed her gaze down at her food for a long moment.

“Anyway,” he said, still, apparently, stuck on the subject at hand, “if you’re not in love with me, then why did the idea of me being in danger upset you so much? You didn’t even have a reason to think anything was wrong.”

“I’m batshit fucking crazy,” she offered, leaning back in her seat, the plastic cushioning squeaking as she did so.

“Nah. Crazy about me, maybe.”

She really hated that smirk sometimes.

“Why did you jump in the water to get me out? Why did you try to teach me to swim?” she asked, not answering his question in the slightest.

Without meaning to, she’d changed the atmosphere. Andy took a breath and finally looked away from her, taking a swig of his coffee and looking up at the ceiling when he spoke again.

“If you can’t figure it out by now, I really don’t know what to tell you.” He let out a sigh.

Tabitha’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words, what he was telling her without actually saying it aloud.

“What makes you think I’m in love with you?” she asked after a pause, cocking her head to the side.

“You literally are.”

“Not.”

“You are. You just haven’t accepted it yet. But you’ll get there.”

He grinned at her, and the corners of his eyes crinkled, and her stomach gave a lurch.

Andy had no right to be so handsome while accusing her of being in love with him.

#obsessed with tabs these days #sorry but actually .... not #my writing #oneshot

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lookwhatilost · 5 years ago

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josh slept over last night but I didn’t end up having sex w him bc he did that shit I hate where he was being too fucking chatty while we were making out and he asked me this question that was, like, “what do you generally like most abt sex” and i jst... stopped him bc it rly threw me for a loop and I didn’t know how to answer it

the only ppl ive enjoyed sex w are justin (even tho it was, on an objective level, shitty sex half of the time) and jon. and they both do completely different things, like polar opposites in terms of experience. and I was up most of the night wrestling w the question bc tbh I dnt generally enjoy sex as an act at all despite how much of it I’ve been having. which sort of lead me to conclude that im compensating for my lack of age-expected sexual experience. which i already kind of knew. but still

I couldn’t answer the original question tho, and I stopped thinking abt it in terms of sex and in terms of what justin and jon have in common outside of that... which is still very little. bc they are entirely different personality wise. jus was an intellectual and jon isn’t an idiot or anything, but no intellectual by any means—average in that department. jus was kind of pretentious where jon is relaxed and open. jus was a very conservative person and jon is uninhibited. jus sort of held on to his punk sensibilities that he held in his 20s and jon dznt rly have an “identity” like that in terms of subculture. and these are all qualities that i honestly enjoyed abt both of them—jus being a little pretentious made me feel challenged instead of annoyed, to clarify—so I still had no idea

and then I thought more

and i was starry-eyed for jus whenever I was in his presence. for the two years I knew him, i always wished he was single. I started going to the bar he worked at more frequently bc he was there. I skipped my great uncles funeral to see him at work and talk to him and I didn’t regret it at all. and I’d be sitting there, tipsy, staring at him, the words “if only...” on a loop in my head, this stupid fantasy of him getting off his shift and telling me that I’m not okay to drive home, even tho he knew I generally walked to that bar, and jst bringing me back home w him instead. silly things. silly crush. feeling like it was never going to happen. then, years later, it happens. and I’m sleeping next to him for the first time and thinking “this is exactly where I’ve wanted to be for so long”

same w jon, jst meeting him for the first time a year ago and fireworks going off in my head. running into him randomly, wishing we were closer, wishing he thought of me like that. then one chance encounter and I find out he does, and after our first real date, him snoring loudly in my bed, looking over to him and thinking “this exactly where I’ve wanted to be for so long”

and that’s probably entirely what it is. not sex at all. jst having that long game pining finally validated when I’m in those situations. being exactly where I want to w exactly who I want to be there w. the exhilaration in that. the anticipation finally paying off. and nothing mattering outside of that. the “i never thought we could ever be this close” the “i never thought I deserved you”, the “ive always found you to be so magical”, the “you’ll never know how many times Ive dreamt of this”. the return of emotional investment. if I dnt walk away thinking that I’d hallucinated the experience, I dnt fucking want it

which is why sex w someone like andrew, who i did have an immediate connection w but not that long-term burning attraction, felt so weird and wrong outside of it feeling physically terrible. and why I keep avoiding actually having sex w Josh even tho i know I find him attractive. that’s what’s missing from all this shit. that’s why i can’t keep doing this. that’s why it’s making me feel empty and miserable bc without that external emotional factor it’s always going to be a shitty experience for me

#blog

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loljulie · 7 years ago

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stay with me; {005} love sick (part 2)

(well here’s part dos of the cute sick chapter!! idk if there will be a part 3 bc tbh i could write this cute fluff forever. who knows?? anyway, i hope you enjoy this part bc a lot of research went into it. thank u lovelies~!)

genre: dunkirk

collins x reader

word count: 1912

Sleep was something you were never able to fight well, and with time-traveling being known to cause tiredness, it was no wonder that you could fall asleep so quickly in the comfortable, inviting bed next to Jack Collins. While spending more time in the past wasn’t necessarily a terrible thing – especially if you were doing a harmless thing like sleeping – it was careless for you to let your guard down for such a prolonged period. You trusted Collins, of course, but even a man with good intentions could accidentally stumble upon something terrible.

Thus, when your eyes first shot open the next morning, the only thought on your mind was where your time module was. You sat up in the bed and your eyes wandered to the chair where your coat was still placed. Thankfully, it seemed to be in the same spot as when you left it, and Collins was still sound asleep next to you. You let out a sigh of relief.

Your next dilemma was how to leave. You had overstayed your trip to the past already, and you knew the best way to get back home was to hope that the man sleeping next to you was a heavy sleeper. Cautiously, you began to slide one leg over the side of the bed, praying that the bedsprings didn’t creak beneath you.

Your ankle had just felt the air outside of the covers when an arm wrapped itself around your waist and the body attached to it rolled toward you. Of course, he would shift himself right as you were making your escape plan. You slid back down into the sheets, deciding you’d have to wait until his grip loosened before making another attempt.

You wouldn’t be able to – at least, not that morning. Right then, as the right side of his face was smashed into the white pillow, Collins began to wake up. As you saw the tell-tale sign of movement under his eyelid just before they would spring open, you quickly closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

You sensed him open his eyes next to you as he sharply inhaled a breath to yawn and began to stretch his arms out. You took this movement as an opportunity to feign waking up again, and soon your eyes were staring into his.

“Good morning,” you hummed sluggishly, your head still pressed against the pillow. He raised his blue eyes to look out the curtained window, acknowledging how the morning sun shined against the fabric before reconnecting with your gaze.

“That it is,” he replied cheekily, giving you a wink. You scoffed at his reply and shook your head.

“How are you feeling?” you asked after letting his comment sink in for a moment. Collins took some breaths through his nose and swallowed a couple times before shrugging.

“Guid as new,” he answered in a deep voice, but that didn’t concern you. Though his morning voice was a bit raspy, it was different than how he sounded with his airways congested. You placed your hand on his forehead, and after feeling it for a moment, you gave a content nod.

“Doesn’t feel like you’ve got a fever anymore, either,” you stated.

“Which means a willnae feel bad if I dae this…” his voice trailed off as he leaned over toward you. His soft lips were against yours in seconds, and despite the initial shock, you welcomed the kiss.

The one arm around your waist slid so that it was all the way behind your back, pulling you closer to him. He used his free arm to prop himself up so that he hovered over you. Your hand quickly found the groove of his neck as the two of you deepened the kiss. You could feel him smiling into the kiss, a contagious smile that was soon transferred to your own lips.

He pulled away slowly, and once his face was a good few inches away from yours, he opened his crystal blue eyes and gazed at your face. He brought his hand that was wrapped around your waist to push away some loose strands of hair on your face. “I wan’ to wake up to this evr’y mornin'.”

You couldn’t tell if he meant the long kiss you two had shared, if he was referring to your image, or both – but either way, the sentimental statement coupled with his husky morning voice sent a stir throughout your chest.

A rumbling brought the two of you out of the moment. Jack’s stomach had loudly stated how empty it was, and you could see the redness beginning to form on his cheeks from embarrassment. You let out a giggle, pecked his cheek, and said, “It sounds like you also want something to eat.”

The remnants of a modest breakfast of fried eggs and toast with jam lay on plates in front of you. Collins had graciously offered to cook the meal for you both – something you were thankful for, as you weren’t confident in your 1940’s kitchen knowledge after yesterday’s debacle. After you two had finished eating, you sat back in your wooden chairs, letting the food digest while you talked.

“So, I was just wondering,” you started after he had finished a story from his primary school days. “How are you able to live here, all on your own?”

You figured that, after the war, a soldier like Collins would have returned home and stayed with his family for a while. It was surprising to you to find that he lived alone, the house leaving no trace of any other occupant but Collins. Your question caused him to shift in his seat, and you felt a twinge of guilt for asking it.

“My brother, he fought in th' war as weel,” he started. Your breath stifled as you realized he hadn’t mentioned a brother before, and instantly assumed the worst. “He died richt afore oor win. Oor parents wur heartbroken.”

You noticed how he didn’t look you in the eyes, merely studied the left-over crumbs from the toast on the plate in front of him. “I went back hame right efter it a' ended, to be wi' ‘em. When th' compensation came, thay gave it a' to me. Thay wanted me to follow my dreams in his memory.”

“So, I'm 'ere, taking classes at th' University 'n' getting money aroond toun any wey that I kin. My parents send money sometimes, bit I send it righ’ back. I feel ill taking it fae them.”

You sat quietly there for a moment, speechless. What could you say? You didn’t feel right trying to console Collins with regurgitated phrases, and you also knew it was too grave of a subject for you to try and change quickly. Finally, he looked up from his plate, a small smile on his lips.

“I'm tairible at decorating, aren’t I?” You scoffed lightly at his statement.

“There’s definitely a few things I would change,” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Collins.

“Then mibie ye cuid help me oot wi' it sometime,” he replied with a raised eyebrow. You smirked at his offer. Was that an invitation to come over, again?

“Maybe… if you’ve got something to give me for it,” you teased.

“Oh, I’m sure I cuid come up wi' a few things.”

You were so engrossed in the flirtatious moment that you hadn’t heard the soft, pattering of rain drops hitting the roof. Only when the rain started to get heavier did you notice it. You peered outside the window, seeing how the cloudless sky had transitioned into a gray one over the course of your conversation. You smiled at the change in weather – after all, how could you leave if it was pouring rain outside?

“Looks lik' tis a day inside fur us,” Collins affirmed. He stood up and grabbed the plates on the dining table before walking to the kitchen.

“Do you want any help in there?” you called out after him.

“Na, hen, I've git it. Go oan 'n' mak' yersel' at home,” his voice rang from the kitchen. You heard plates chinking against one another and stood up from your chair.

After crossing into the living room, you decided to inspect a bookshelf that held a few different volumes on display. Your eyes studied the titles on the book spines – Animal Farm, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Cannery Row, Four Quartets – before stopping at one, The Screwtape Letters. The others you had identified easily – either by the title or by the author who wrote them – but that novel hadn’t been familiar to you. Curiously, you pulled the book out of its spot and flipped the front cover open.

As you read the first page, you absentmindedly walked to the couch and sat down in it, your eyes glued to the print on the page. Collins entering the room went by unnoticed by you until you felt the couch sink as he sat down beside you. By then, you had already made it through the first few pages.

“C.S. Lewis?” he asked, nodding to the book in your hands.

“Yeah, I haven’t read this one yet,” you answered, keeping your hand placed where you had been reading as you flipped to the front cover.

“Tis a guid yin. Pretty funny, too. I've read it a couple o' times masell.”

“You better not ruin it for me,” you warned, sending him a semi-threating look. He chuckled in response.

“A'richt, a willnae. Bit oinlie since a loue ye 'n' I cannae have ye mad at me.”

You froze at his comment. He had said it again – that he loved you. The sleep-filled phrases from the night before had almost left your mind until he uttered that word again. Love. Was he just meaning it in a playful way?

He must have noticed your reaction, because he fumbled over his words, trying to say something next. “I mean it, ye kno’, juist lik' ah meant it lest night.”

You watched his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity. He met your gaze, and the earnest look in his eyes was enough to make your heart stop in your chest.

“I hope tis nae too soon to say it, 'n' even if it's, I dinnae care. Tis how I'm feelin' aboot ye.”

Your breathing hitched, your lungs suddenly only being able to take short breaths, before your lips slowly curled into a smile. He meant it. He loved you.

“I love you, too.” You breathed, and you wasted no time joining your lips together in a passionate, energetic embrace. He tangled a hand in your hair at the base of your neck. The book fell to the floor as your hands held onto Collins instead. He placed a hand on your hip, and with your coordination, pulled you into his lap.

The two of you didn’t pull apart for quite some time. When you did, you two would stay in each other’s arms for a while longer, giggling to yourselves and keeping to your own bubble, far from the world around you. Eventually, the novel on the floor would be incorporated into your own little world, with you cuddling your back against Collins’ chest as he read aloud to you. Nothing – not even the worries of the past, present, or future – could have interrupted the privacy of a lover’s trance.

#jack lowden x reader #collins x reader #jack lowden imagines #dunkirk imagines #dunkirk fanfic #stay with me

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shiroe-is-my-baby · 8 years ago

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Missing You

Summary: Awkward love confessions (bc I’m in love with those apparently XD)

W: self-insert, fluff, terrible humor

“Hey Shiroe,” I said with a smile. I hadn’t heard his voice in weeks, and there was something slightly different about it. Granted, I’m sure he was going through a lot of tough things at the moment. It felt nice to chat with him, especially since I was a little disappointed he and I hadn’t gotten to spend time together. Lots of exciting things had been going on since he left, and I felt strange. Experiencing these things without him felt wrong. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but at the same time, I just wanted to enjoy the moment with him.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” He said, prectically reading my mind.

“Oh yeah? Have you missed me?"

My lips curled into a humors grin. The comment was meant as a joke or a tease, but I heard his voice change again. He chuckled, but it was a nervously chuckle. The kind that someone makes when they’re uncomfortable.

Furrowing my brows, I tried to ignore the pang in my chest. It felt like something had changed between us. I didn’t like it. I missed when we could laugh and have fun together as friends… and a new couple. What could have possibly happened? Shiroe and I hadn’t had much time to date before he left. We’d confessed rather quickly that we liked each other, and that was shortly before I found out about his plans.

He wasn’t sure how long the raid would take, and I remember almost asking to come. But I knew that would be a ridiculous decision. I was merely just compensating. A part of me was scared he’d changed his mind about the whole thing. Being away from me gave him a long time to think. But again, I was probably overreacting and being extremely selfish.

"Yeah… I’ve missed you a lot, actually."

"I’ve missed you too…"

Even that statement alone sounded strange. I couldn’t feel the sincerity of it, and I began to worry about him. Something was bothering him. I knew he wouldn’t go into detail, but I knew that it was there. Shiroe doesn’t open up to me with some things. I never understood why, given that we were close. Sometimes I feel like he isn’t as close to me as some of the others in our guild. After all, they’ve known him longer than I have. It makes me feel uneasy.

"How’s everything going?” I asked, “Are you eating enough? You’re not stressing yourself out, are you?"

It was a lot of questions, but I was seriously worried.

"I’m okay. Are you worried about me?"

"Yeah… You just sound… weird."

Shiroe sighed, and I could hear chatter in the background. It bothered me that he sounded distracted and distant. I wanted to be there with him. Look at his face, see the look in his eyes. Maybe then I could read him better.

"I’m just- I’ve been thinking a lot."

"About what?"

"About us. I…uh… Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” He said, chuckling nervously.

Furrowing my brows, I was even more confused than when I started. “Shiroe,” I said, “Don’t let me distract you. I’d hate to be the cause of anything-” Before I could finish, Shiroe was interrupting me again. His voice was a lot more stern and solid now.

“No,” He said, “You’re not distracting me. Well, not exactly anyway. I just kind of had a realization."

"What kind of realization?"

This was it. This was the moment he broke up with me. I could practically hear the words before he spoke them. What an incredible day this was turning out to be. Shiroe breathed another sigh, steadying his thoughts. I wanted him to go ahead and say it. Save me the trouble of having to wait. But I didn’t say anything. I stood there, clawing at the backs of my hands and praying that I could somehow change his mind. I didn’t get a chance to show him everything that I felt.

"Ashley, I… I think I’m in love with you."

My mouth dropped. Shiroe was in love with me? Even though he’d just said it, I couldn’t help but doubt his words. We hadn’t been dating that long, and I honestly expected him to wait. And I couldn’t deny that I haven’t thought the same.

I mean, when we first saw each other I was completely distraught. Seeing him for the first time, I could barely breathe and my words were in shambles. Then, when we had gotten to know each other. I felt a connection. He was cute and funny. Not to mention smart, and he knew how to make me feel special. We fit like a glove, and it was easy to forget about everything with him. I’ve been in love since the moment he said hi. As cliche as that sounds, I loved him when our eyes met.

Granted, I didn’t know it was love until I got to know him. But it was a deep connection I’d never felt before. I just didn’t want to put a label on it this early. Mainly to look too needy so early into the relationship. But I knew that I was falling hard.

"Sh-Shiroe… I dunno what to say,” I answered, choking at the words.

“You don’t have to. I just needed to tell you. Before I lost my I mind."

"No, I-I love you too."

For a moment, he was speechless. The eerie quiet was terrifying. He must have not expected me to say it. I wished I could have seen his face, plastered red with embarrassment. He stammered, unable to speak complete sentences. I giggled, my lips curling into a grin. Saying those words to him felt amazing. I didn’t think such words would feel so good being spoken.

"Sorry, I… uh… didn’t expect you to answer."

"It’s okay. I’m just kinda glad you said it first."

I laughed, which caused him to chuckle on return. "Oh yeah? Is that right?” He asked.

“Yeah. Now I don’t look so obsessed."

"I know it’s been a short time since we started dating, but… I feel really closed to you. And yesterday I had a thought. A dream, you could say."

"You dreamt about me?” I asked, curiously.

Shiroe laughed again at my heighten voice and curious tone. I felt my lips twitch into another smile. I loved his laugh. The real laugh. It’s adorable and cute. I wanted to hear it often.

“It wasn’t really a dream- look, my point is: I saw you, and when you disappeared I felt empty. Happy?"

"Very much so. Thank you."

I giggled again, cursing myself under my breath. He was making me laugh so much today. I hated my laugh, but when he was the cause it was different. My mind thought of his story. A part of me bought it, the other half assumed he was just nervous about something else. But knowing that we weren’t breaking up was the best news ever. That’s what I get for overreacting.

"I wish I could talk to you some more, sweetheart, but I should go."

My cheeks turned pink at his use of the term. It was the first time in this conversation that he’d used a pet name for me. When we’re alone, the phrases are abundant. Not that I minded much. Just hearing it made my heart leap. I could hear loud echoes of voices and Shiroe had laughed again.

"Okay… I should probably go too. Thank you for calling, Shiroe."

"I’ll try to call again, but I think we’ll be finishing up here really soon. Call it a hunch."

Soon as he said this the voice became louder. I giggled again, hearing a familiar one amongst some new voices. Shiroe huffed a sigh, and quickly sputtered a few coarse words to the man.

"Looks like you’re being beconed,” I said with a laugh.

“Yeah… Naotsugu is giving me a hard time right now."

"Why’s that?"

As soon as I asked, I could hear said man loud and clear. Although, Shiroe must have shove him away, because I didn’t get a full sentence. Something about lovey-dovey and bad image. Shiroe mumbled to him to go away, and I could only imagine how that looked. In fact, I could probably bet exactly how that looked.

After a few more laughs, I wiped tears from my eyes and could no longer remove the grin from my face. I was happy.

"There’s nothing wrong with me being romantic with my girlfriend,” Shiroe said to Naotsugu.

“Oh, but it does look bad for our villain behind glasses, doesn’t it?"

"Yeah, but.. You’re the exception."

I could almost see the wink that he would be giving me. It was an adorable image. Before I could live in the moment longer, I could hear even more bantering. I decided to go before his friend gave him an even harder time. But before I did, I could hear Shiroe saying something about him doing the same to Naotsugu next time Marielle calls.

And I could not wait to hear about that.

#self insert #self ship #self insert writing #fanfic #fic #fluff #my writing #Shirey

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makeroomforthejolyghost · 8 years ago

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OK!!! saint-loup. it is saint-loup o’clock. i do not have these thoughts well formulated so this might get kinda long n messy but i promised myself i’d Talk This Out w/ myself on this reading, so. icee straw kazoo.

ok so saint-loup is the narrator’s friend tho like... to the extent this term is applicable in friendships m’s kinda The Unrequiter, often exhibits w/out expressly saying that he feels kinda guilty for Using Him or at least for like. not being able to match the energy saint-loup brings to the relationship. in fact the main thing he consistently notices in saint-loup is energy, strength. but also solicitude! which combination to me seems weird? i’m fond of saint-loup but he makes me uncomfortable, i think bc while, on one hand, his slightly sophomoric intellectualism and nervous quickness and tendency to be officiously solicitous*--which 3 traits m associates w/ saint-loup’s ability to assimilate quickly (3.98, 153)--all remind me of me, and also of many people i’ve known, but then...? on the other hand, i have never seen those traits (esp. solicitude) in a strong person; saint-loup is passive-aggressive and i have only ever observed that demeanor in weak people--most of them sick, bats and/or non-men; certainly not in a straight-passing man (as saint-loup does at this time) if he’s also healthysane--since passive-aggression is so. roundabout, and mind-over-matter &c. like. all the things i have in common w/ saint-loup are traits i’ve developed because i’m not a man, not straight, not neurotypical, not strong, u know? and certainly these traits are ones people like me are supposed to dislike in ourselves, but i find that recognizing them in someone usually makes me more comfortable around them, because... well, you know. because the ways in which we’d be likely to hurt each other are basically the same?

meanwhile early in volume 3 you get this scene where saint-loup introduces m to a bunch of his friends, all adorably over-eager to Show Off m’s intellect, make sure he makes a good impression, and

“No? You don’t agree about Stendhal?” he went on, with a naïve confidence in my judgment which found expression in a charming, smiling, almost childish glance of interrogation from his green eyes. “Oh, good! I see you’re on my side. ... The Chartreuse is after all a stunning work, don’t you think? I’m so glad you agree with me. What is it you like best in the Chartreuse? Answer me,” he urged with boyish impetuosity. And the menace of his physical strength made the question almost terrifying. (136)

N.B. THO that here and elsewhere m fuckin glories in that strength. here, for example:

My departure depressed me less when I was no longer obliged to think of it alone, when I felt that the more normal and healthy exertions of my energetic friends, of Robert’s brothers-in-arms, were being applied to what was to be done (179)

but also, before we even GET to rachel:

“I’m furiously jealous,” Saint-Loup said to me, half laughing, half in earnest, alluding to the interminable conversations apart which I had been having with his friend. “Is it because you find him more intelligent than me? Do you like him better than me? Ah, well, I suppose he’s everything now, and no one else is to have a look in!” (Men who are enormously in love with a woman, who live in a society of woman-lovers, allow themselves pleasantries which others, seeing less innocence in them, would never dare to contemplate.) (153)

idk, like. i’ve had multiple people talk that way to me? but i possess what almost seems like an “only we can say it” sentiment about it--only people who don’t pass for straight men, maybe, or only weak people, neurotics. and saint-loup has that entire demeanor he seems to think he’s entitled to it as an intellectual or maybe just picks it up from m and rachel but it’s weird on people whose intellectualism does not compensate for frailty of body and/or “willpower,” idk. he does the fuckin... what do i mean, um. OH!--i associate his flirtatious self-deprecation w/ the thing women do in victorian books and in old movies; the thing lizaveta nikolaevna does in demons when she asks what’s his face whether he’d still wanna hang if she broke her leg. and possibly i’m wrong to see saint-loup’s comments as the outpost of a similar thing? but

“You know,” I said, “I did come to say good-bye to you the day I left Doncières. I’ve never had a chance to mention it. I waved to you in the street.”

“Don’t speak about it,” he replied, “I was so sorry. I passed you just outside the barracks, but I couldn’t stop because I was late already. I assure you I felt quite wretched about it.” (233)

haha yeah no i don’t think i’m wrong. so maybe it’s like the last few days’ irritation at hearing my mom employ the detached, bodily-self-contemptuous infodump tone i often use irl to talk about My Limitations--sitting like i do then, w/ that buzzardy hunch as though to tell a secret, and w/ the same aporetic expression--without having also to euphemize, circumlocute, pause and screw up her face and twist her wrist around for long intervals, blushing, trying to think of a less self-flattering [vulnerable] word for what she means, like i would in that situation. but i think it’s... also that i’m uncomfortable on m’s and rachel’s behalf? that in order not to intimidate or seem to condescend he adopts a piece of their demeanor that makes him look harmless. because like. another way in which saint-loup attempts to Regain His Dignity (or at least vent frustration) during his fight w/ rachel is that when the journalist w/ the cigar refuses to put it out, um,

“Would you mind, sir, throwing away your cigar? The smoke is bad for my friend.” [...]

“There’s no rule against smoking that I know of,” said the journalist. “If people aren’t well, they have only to stay at home.” [...]

“In any case, sir, you are not very civil,” observed Saint-Loup to the journalist, still in a mild and courteous tone, with the air of appraisal of a man judging retrospectively the rights and wrongs of an incident that is already closed. (239-40)

and see THIS IS ME this is exactly how i act when i’m angry at someone in public (incl. or maybe esp. if that someone is myself ha), fuckin carrying on another conversation in the background as proof ur Still Sane, BUT THEN

[A]fter the courteous words that he had just uttered, he brought down his hand with a resounding smack upon the journalist’s cheek. (240)

AND LIKE?? i don’t think this would creep me out nearly so much if the pretext (tho obv not the reason) for it weren’t. an ableist comment. “If people aren’t well, they have only to stay at home.” but i’ve more than once gotten angry w/ someone, chewed someone out, for saying something ableist to my friend (tho in the case that comes to mind the comment could be applied to me as well), and in my experience that kind of vicarious anger is?? because you know your friend’s upset about it but don’t know what to say to help them, so you resent the perp for showing you your own impotence, for distracting your and your friend’s attention from more important things w/ their needless judgmental bs. and THAT makes sense here? but without those other layers--of 1. “this insult implicates me also” and 2. “you have upset my friend and therefore obliged me to Avenge them since i don’t know how to make them feel better”--it’s... weird. it’s just so Not His Fight i guess, and. i’ve actually written a similar scene, too? in which case some of the interest was in like... the assumption by stronger people that we’ll be flattered to see them use their greater strength in defense of Our Honor, when. no, saint-loup; that’s a nonsensical n paternalistic pretext to vent ur own unrelated anger? m neither needs nor wants a healthy person to punish ableists’ contempt of his ill health? and in fact it’s embarrassing in the first place when ppl respond to our not making a fuss by making the fuss for us?? blugh! i don’t know. i can point out so many gross things about this but still am not satisfied i have identified The Thing About It that makes me so uncomfortable; maybe it’s just because at the same time i do understand both m’s fetishistic admiration of saint-loup’s strength and aristocratic solicitude and saint-loup’s paternalism itself. i’ve been on both sides, tho without the... punching. thing, ha. on that note:

Now that to the measured conversations of the diplomats, to the smiling arts of peace, had succeeded the furious onthrust of war, since blows lead to blows, I should not have been surprised to see the combatants wading in one another’s blood. ... Fortunately the journalist who, staggering back from the violence of the blow, had turned pale and hesitated for a moment, did not retaliate. (240-1)

M OH MY GOD ur purely academic understanding of How Fights Work! sees a guy 2 whose general opinion on violence he defers punch someone n is just like “well, shit, this is it, we’re all gonna die” fdlahgsdf ur......my favorite, and also, same, but possibly this is a mistake we both oughta quit making. Fuckin Liberals &c. &c.

*appropriate since he’s a sergeant!! but what i mean is e.g. when rachel (his gf w/ whom he needs to break up) makes him feel small in public saint-loup will then try to get back some dignity by turning to m like “You oughtn’t to stand about in the cigar smoke like that, it’ll make you ill” (3.237). it’s like what i said yesterday about my own solicitude--that it’s about liking to feel useful, liking for there to be a subject on which you know what to say. but it’s jarring to me to see this sense of return to familiar ground detached from same-feeling--to see the “useless person’s dream come true” phenomenon in a situation where saint-loup has no obvious reason to consider himself an expert other than his general aristocratic + busybodyish(!!!) tendency to anticipate people’s interests, to want to Know Everything about his friends.

#tell marcel i'm ignoring his text posts #romanticize ur mental illness 1k866 #icee straw kazoo #screalth tag #violence ///

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