#just because it makes sense doesn’t mean it’s right

[kaisaerinlover]

rin itoshi angst

you and rin are over and all you can do is sob into his stupid fucking hoodie and jersey he left behind. it’s not fair; the breakup wasn’t fair. how is this fair at all? he has soccer to distract himself at least, he has a goal and a mission. you don’t have that. how the fuck is this fair whatsoever? that he’s going to be fine and you’re going to be in shambles for months on end after - your eyes already hurt from all of the crying, your wettened lower lashes reminding you of his when you look in the mirror. your tears made them look exactly like rin’s; long and dark, clumped together a bit. everything fucking reminds you of him even your own damn eyelashes.

you’re laying in bed wearing his hoodie and hugging his jersey so tightly. it’s four in the morning and the deep ache in your heart isn’t making it easy to sleep at all. you’re not even sure if you’ll wake up, it almost feels like a physical pain each time your fragile heart throbs in your chest. you’re not even sure if you want to wake up. why did he break up with you exactly? because having a girlfriend is too draining for him. because he has to focus on his career. because he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend. because he can’t commit. but these reasons mean nothing to you; they’re worthless pathetic excuses made by him. all you can gather from this is that you weren’t good enough for him to want to change, and that’s fine. you don’t have any ego and you don’t care. well, you suppose you care a little, that’s why you’re in hysterics and clutching at your chest as if your heart is about to explode.

your room is like a fucking shrine of rin. his smell lingers on his two pieces of clothing you’re wearing and holding and it’s dominating all of your senses, polaroids you took of him and forced him to take with you are stuck onto your mirror, the wall, laying on your desk, everywhere, his old cleats are in a box under your bed, his blue lock eleven jersey is hung up in your wardrobe tauntingly, and his captain’s armband is your favourite scrunchie. all you can do is sniffle and sigh. where did it go so wrong? why did he even have to do this? is soccer that much more valuable than a real human being? no, of course it is; but not a human like you. you loved him with every single fibre of your being, your very existence feels like its only purpose is to love him and dote on him forever. how could any game be more valuable than that?

when he was breaking up with you he didn’t even look the least bit sad. god you fucking hate how much you love him; this is why you can’t trust guys. it was stupid of you to trust rin at all. why did you let such a good thing come into your life - good things are there to be taken away. but maybe you expected rin to be different. unfortunately he wasn’t. he’s so nonchalant too, god you fucking hate it. you wish he was yearning for you the way you are for him right now, but apparently all his desire lays only in football. nothing to do with you. never will be anything to do with you. you were just there for him when he started needing the attention of the opposite gender, started needing a girl to tell him how much she adores him, when he started needing a little fangirl at all of his games for his ego, when he started needing something to sink his cock into. someone to talk his ears off, someone who just loved to gossip and talk about tiktok trends that he truly never had any care for. yeah, that’s all you were to him; cheap and easy entertainment. fuck you itoshi rin, how could he be so emotionless at a breakup that is tearing you apart slowly, yet not carefully, from the inside out?

rin knows he messed up. he’s on a flight to france now, and he knows he fucking messed up - but there’s no take backsies! he wasn’t nonchalant at all, but god, he can’t fucking commit. he just can’t. he wants to so bad for you; you have your bad days but he knows what having a girlfriend entails, he doesn’t give a fuck man. he really fucking doesn’t care whatsoever. he doesn’t know why he’s like this but it’s pissing him off. he’s a fucking piece of shit. the look in your eyes when he said he was leaving you could shatter the heart of someone with the strongest will of them all. he regrets it so bad already. all he wants to do is have you sitting next to him right now looking out of the window and talking about something he knows absolutely nothing about. but you’re probably in shambles, sobbing on your bed. he flips over his phone and looks at the polaroid of the two of you that he keeps in the back of his phone case. it’s a funny one: he took the initiative for once and took the selfie with you himself whilst you weren’t looking, and you have an ice cream in your hand, with a bit of it on the tip of your nose, not even realising what your boyfriend is doing.

god he misses you, he’s longing so deeply. but he didn’t want to be emotional. he doesn’t want to stay with you when he knows it’s not fair on you. it’s not fair for him to expect you to commit to him and pamper him sweetly the way you normally do when he would sell you for the title of the world’s best striker. that’s all he really wants, yeah, to be the world’s best striker. and whilst this is what he wanted before, and he was sure of it, he’s unsure now. as he looks into the night sky through the window, taking in the stars, he just can’t help but think of your glassy eyes begging him to not go. if you would ask him before, he would say girls mean nothing. football is what he lives for. being a striker is all he wants. surpassing his brother and that shithead isagi is the closest thing akin to emotion towards another human. but right now all of those things couldn’t be more untrue; he wants you so fucking bad. he misses you so much, his heart is in agony thinking of how sad you probably are right now.

he looks at his hand resting on the arm of the expensive first class seat, and he just sighs. he wants to be holding your hand so bad right now. he really fucking does, but he’s so idiotic. he’s such a dumb guy he really is. he can’t help but think about how bad he messed up. and you can’t help but think about how he doesn’t care at all. but it couldn’t be further from the truth. rin itoshi can only keep up his act of nonchalance for so long; even his mask slips eventually. he misses you dearly. and you miss him so dearly too. your hearts are throbbing in pain in sync, your tears trickling down your cheeks match the way he runs his fingers up and down his temples to try and calm himself down and get rid of the migraine he gained from furrowing his brows so deeply at himself. you’re so in tune, two bodies yet only one soul, intertwined, unbeknownst to you both. but rin had to mess it up.

what the fuck can he do now? he was breaking up with you to focus on football, how can he focus now? when you’re all that’s on his mind? how can he be expected to keep his focus when the only thing he’s going to be doing the whole time he plays is wishing with all of his stupid, less cold than he’d like to admit, heart. wishing for something that he already had in his hands for years, yet foolishly gave it away in seconds. how can he focus when he knows he left a girl crumpled up on the bed wailing like a fucking baby over him? god, you probably hate him don’t you. his eyes tear up a bit at the thought. no, you can’t hate him. you can’t. you just can’t. he knows it’s selfish to think, but god he can’t fucking stand the idea of you hating him. despite what he did.

and you don’t hate him. you wish you did - it would be so much easier that way. but you don’t. no, you could never hate rin (unfortunately for you). all you know how to do is love him. it’s an instinct you feel like you’ve had you’re whole life, buried deep inside you until you finally met him. it’s so far ingrained within you, your love is so delicate. so intricate. so perfectly crafted for a man of rin’s calibre. and his was perfectly designed for you too. so why did he mess it up? why do you wish with all your stupid weak heart that you could hear him whispering “i love you, baby” into your ear again, after shoving his tongue in your mouth so possessively? why do you miss his little fits of jealousy he would have in public if another guy was too close? how when you went to any store and another man came up to you, rin would squeeze your hand tighter and give him a death stare? why do you miss everything about him? it’s so hard to not be pathetic over this man, it really is. it’s so fucking difficult. you miss his perfect imperfections, you couldn’t name a single thing you dislike about him.

it can’t be fair, the heavy feeling in your chest. break ups can be a fresh start, but you feel so much heavier after this one. sabrina carpenter is such a liar, you don’t feel lighter like a feather at all. you mentally laugh at your own dumb thought, but it does little to numb the pain and realisation of your situation. rin is feeling the exact same. he really thought this was for the best, maybe a bit more for him, he’s selfish he’ll admit. but maybe that came back to bite him; because this is so fucking painful. he feels extra bad. you’d been there since the very beginning, since before he went to blue lock, since before any of this shit happened. you’d always been a placeholder for sae, he supposes. all he wanted was to pursue his goals more, try harder, work harder, get everything he’s wanted, surpass everyone he has a rivalry with; he just wants to be the best. but now he thinks about it, he realises he already had something worth more than all of that. someone so patient and kind, who was willing to sit and wait for him and be paid less attention to as he poured himself completely into soccer. someone who had their own set of struggles and emotions too, yet never wanted to talk about them as to not drag rin down. someone who genuinely made his heart hurt when they cried. he realises he loves having a girlfriend as much as he loves soccer. no, scrap that, he loves you as much as he loves soccer. maybe even more. he could literally just fucking do both at one. he’d brought you to france before numerous times and every single fucking time you were so good and he enjoyed himself so much. he doesn’t know why he’s so scared of commitment, especially with you, because even though you have your moments like every girlfriend does - moments where you act erratic, emotional and cry, or just get mad at him for nothing, moments where you’re just being a girl - you make him feel good. you’ve never given him any reason to not trust you. he knows you’d never hurt him, hell, you’ve been hurt yourself various times before, and you still put trust in him. he knows he should trust you, but it’s so hard since what he did; what sae did. he doesn’t want to be emotionally dependant on anyone else anymore, but he already got himself caught up in this mess and his heart is aching so fucking badly, does it even matter anymore.

when rin arrives in france finally you’re just waking up. he even haunted your dreams, how unfair is that? that he’s probably not even thinking about you whatsoever, he only cares about football. that’s what you think anyway, of course rin thought about you the entire time. he’s begrudgingly dragging his luggage through the airport, and each shop he passes he just thinks about you even harder. he sees something on display he thinks is cute? he’s instinctively turning to nudge you to show you it and ask if you want it. he sees a starbucks? he’s turning to you to ask you what you want to order, and which cake pop you want. he sees a girl with that stupid brand of shoes you like? he’s ready to memorise whatever it is you start talking about, whichever thing from there you want, so he can buy you it as a gift later. he misses your cute mannerisms, things he’s only seen you do and nobody else. all the cute words and actions you do exclusive to you. they’re even deep sated within him now. he finds that when you’re together, he talks like you sometimes. you weren’t even from japan originally, you moved there as a child. and you stayed there because of him, and now he’s just left you. you stayed somewhere that just isn’t home to you because he made it a home to you and now he can’t possibly imagine what you’re feeling. man, everywhere he goes without you just gives him an empty feeling in his chest too, you’re his home too. though he hates admitting it. he feels weak that he’s feeling such sentiments. and as he steps on the bus pxg has waiting outside of the airport for him, he wishes you were here to entertain him for the dull ride. you’re so lively, happy, brimming with life and rainbows. you’re so girly and cute. you’re so, he doesn’t know. you’re just everything. everything to him. and he feels so fucking bad for letting it go. as he looks out of the window he feels bad for even sitting in this seat. you love the window seat, he doesn’t really care, so he’d give you it every single time. there’s other people on the bus too, of course, but he tunes them out. ignores their chatter. he misses you a lot.

he hopes you don’t get close to any other guys now that he’s gone - he knows it’s a selfish wish. he’s sorry. he really is. but he can’t have anyone else having you, he really can’t. you’re a rare catch.

you’re not talking to other guys, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to do that. not ever. not ever in your life could you do that when your heart beat spells his name out. when all that runs through your blood is vitamins and love for him. but you’re going to do something else crazy that you think he would hate you even more for, but you can’t help yourself. if you don’t take the chance now you’ll regret it forever. you won’t just sit around at home and watch his stupid fucking games on tv, knowing he’s just out of reach but still there. you’ll go to france too, love like this doesn’t come to everyone all the time. you can make him like you again, you tell yourself. though, even you aren’t sure of that. honestly you just want to have one more chance to see his face for the last time. and besides, you’ll move out of japan anyway, you have no reason to be there anymore. this can also serve as a property seeing trip. that’s what you delude yourself into anyway, but obviously it’s so much more than that.

so rin is training now. and you’re running through the airport frantically with your things all packed in a rush in your suitcase. that’s where you’re both at; rin kicking the ball hard with determination and you running for your life through the airport to make it to the front desk in time. you booked the ticket frantically, and it left a huge dent in your pocket you honestly can’t even deny it. you weren’t a gold digger so it’s not like you had a lot of money laying around from rin. honestly, you probably look like a loon to all of these airport staff. but you guess that everyone can tell somethings off, the way you’re crying even still at the airport. and you talk so fast too, you carry yourself with little to no etiquette right now and only with desperation for your love. but you aren’t being rude, just emotional. even security gives you an easy time. you run as fast as you can to the gate, 1 minute before closing time. and you’re so fucking relieved.

unfortunately for you, you don’t have the kind of money rin has at your disposal. so you don’t pay for first class, so you’re forced to sit in a cramped seat for the next 14 hours of your life. next to strangers you don’t know. you wish one of them was rin, you really do. you lean your head against the window and put your blanket around yourself and cry yourself to sleep, just hoping that the nonstop ache in your chest will go away.

unfortunately for rin, you don’t have the kind of money he has at your disposal. unfortunate for both of you for different reasons. you don’t have any internet on the plane, and you’re fast asleep against the hard window. so when rin texts you and you ignore him for hours, he’s convinced you hate him.

rin: hey

rin: i’m sorry

rin: i miss you

rin stares at his phone screen. he’s more preoccupied in his phone than ever before, everyone notices it. he stares at the delivered sign staring back up at him. you didn’t block him at least? that’s something? but what are you doing right now? are you with another guy? do you hate him? it’s been hours and you still haven’t replied. every set he finishes he checks his phone. every drill he finishes he checks his phone. he has his phone propped in the cupholder of the treadmill to see if you text back and you don’t. and it’s fucking eating him up from the inside out. but he has a game tomorrow, so he doesn’t know what to do. he prays you’re going to be watching it on tv, man, he’d make a love declaration to the world at this point just to have you back. love makes you do crazy things, he’s no exception to the rule.

neither are you, that’s why the moment you wake up and realise your flight is landing, you push your way through all of the people and rush out to dash to the airport and grab your stuff. you know where the pxg training ground is, you just have to make it there. you haven’t looked at your phone once, you forgot about it completely in your pocket. all you do is grab your small shoulder bag over your shoulder, and the small suitcase you packed in a panic, and dash out of the door. you pay one of the ubers with your card, you pay a hefty amount actually. you’re honestly surprised the payment even went through, but he takes you right to the hotel you intend to stay at. it’s a 5 minute walk from the stadium rin is going to play at tomorrow, and also a 30 minute walk from pxg’s training grounds. but god, you underestimated soccer fans, or simply didn’t take it into account; but the hotel is full. you still are yet to pick up your phone this whole time, but you’re determined still. you can’t stay at the hotel? fine, you’ll run to the pxg facility. and run you do, even in the freezing cold of the harsh french winter, you run through the snow and slip several times on the ice but you don’t care, even despite all the people watching you right now. you’re not even tired, you slept through the entire almost 15 hour flight. and you’re determined, it’s the middle of the night though, you don’t know if they’ll let you in, but you don’t care. you’re so fucking desperate to see rin one more time that you abandoned all sense of pride and self worth just to see his gorgeous stupid fucking face again. 

but now you realise how stupid you were, what the fuck are you supposed to do now? all of that indomitable spirit you just had is gone now, what the fuck did you just do? you’re stood outside and you have no idea how to get in, and you finally take your phone out of your pocket and hastily pay for data in france so you can call rin and ask him if he’ll come and open the door to the training facility. your sat on a bench in the freezing cold, sitting atop the snow, waiting for your data to register. and when it does, you’re greeted by a sight that makes your heart do somersaults; rin’s texts. you can’t even reply, your fingers shake from the cold and you call rin and pray he actually meant the texts he sent.

rin is so tired, that when he hears his phone vibrate he can’t even be bothered to check it. it’s probably nothing important; nothing is important except you. and he doubts, no, he knows for a fact it’s not you. it’s probably his stupid fucking manager, or parents, or some random fan who managed to get his number. you’d never call him in the middle of the night knowing he has a game tomorrow, so all he does is reach his arm over without even looking and silences his phone so he can sleep.

and you give up calling after what feels like an hour of going straight to voicemail. you’re not tired, what can you do? how much time do you have to kill? and did rin even mean his texts? you start crying again. your brain is stupid, you’re stupid. he obviously meant them, but you don’t realise it. all you can do is overthink a million times about all the reasons why he could have sent those texts, and not a single reason is simply that he missed you. your brain simply cannot come up with the idea that itoshi rin is longing for you the same way your heart is longing for him. all you can do is trudge around begrudgingly in the snow with your suitcase and shoulder bag, looking for a place to sit and wait. wait for rin’s stupid fucking game. god this hurts, your tears are hot when they roll down your cheeks. nice, you guess, since it’s sub zero temperatures outside right now. it’s 7am now, and some cafes have opened thank god. so you sit in one of them and mope. you mope and you don’t think the worker cares at all; he noticed you’re crying and chose not to question it. and your phone is dead. you don’t remember if you brought your charger or not, you just shoved several tickets into your bag for rin’s previous soccer matches, his jersey and some pictures of you both. you’re an idiot. but you can wait.

and when rin finally wakes up and sees it’s you who kept calling him, he beats himself up over it so hard. god, if only he’d have just answered. you probably hate him now. he tries calling you back, a trillion times he really tries, but you don’t pickup at all. you just aren’t answering the phone. he bets you hate him now and all he can do is sigh. you’re both so stupid, it’s so pathetic to see. if there was any outsider knowing what was going on in this stupid relationship, they would laugh at how dense you both are. he’s so angry at himself, his self loathing multiplied by numbers unexplainable. you probably needed him, and he didn’t even answer. and now you probably hate him and you’re off with some other guy. this stupid thought process of his doesn’t slow down, from the entire time he’s training, to heading to the stadium, to sitting in the locker room waiting for the match to begin.

and you, desperate little you, by some stroke of luck, you actually got your seat. the one rin always reserves for you at the very front. you actually managed to get it with your old tickets. everyone must have taken some pity on you or something, and probably recognised you as rin’s girlfriend who hasn’t ever disrupted anything, because things have been going your way luckily. you don’t realise that though, you don’t realise that fate is setting you two absolute fools in love up again. because you’re too busy crying again, thinking how life is so bad without your (ex) boyfriend. and rin is doing the same, he doesn’t even know what you’ve been up to, he doesn’t know you’ve been running around desperately trying to get to him. no, he thinks he knows what you’ve even doing; talking to other guys, hating him. he thinks he’s been replaced already. he thinks you’re back home in japan watching the tv and waiting for his game out of spite; maybe with a boy next to you. maybe you’re watching for one of the other players on the opposing team. maybe you replaced him with another soccer player. god, he’d hate to think that he was just your type and not more. he really fucking would. he’s on the bench sitting with his arms across his knees, legs apart and water bottle in one hand. he’s crushing it unknowingly, squeezing it so tightly that the plastic bends under his heavy fingers. his teammates don’t even bother talking to him, no one wants to talk to rin when he’s like this.

and you’re waiting so hard. your heart is beating out of your chest, your adrenaline is pumping and you’re so anxious. honestly, you don’t even know if you want rin to notice you sitting there. your hands are shaking, not from the cold this time. you feel pathetic, you feel so pathetic for being this way, but how can you care? you’re pathetic for rin; and he’s equally as pathetic for you. he’s clenching his knuckles the entire time, the moment he walks onto the field his knuckles are so white. and he’s so stiff, so much more threatening today. no one talked to him the whole time they were in the locker room, nor training. even his coach couldn’t look him in the eye. rin is freakish in nature, everyone knows not to bother him.

and when the game starts it’s so clear that something is different. he’s so much more aggressive. he can’t even care, all he’s thinking about the entire time is you, he wants to mangle all these shitty lukewarms on the field. no, he’s the shitty lukewarm. he’s the tepid one. it’s him. no one else. just him. his self hatred is amplified so much. he wants to fucking kill everyone here. wants to destroy them so bad. he’s not even playing with sound mind. he can’t even think about the game, only you. you you you you you. and every single kick of the ball, every pass, every dribble everything he does. every mechanic. every skill every goal he aims to shoot. every step. every time he devours one of these shitty washed up players on the enemy and his own team he thinks of you. he wonders if you’re watching. all the cameras are on him, not like he cares, he doesn’t give a fuck about the press, but he wonders if you’re looking. perfect view of him. all eyes on him.

and you’re watching alright. you’re watching intently from the stands. your adrenaline is racing so much, you really want to do nothing but talk to him. but as half time comes you get scared and hide your face as you see rin walking towards the locker rooms. god, you’re so fucking pathetic in love, it’s actually sad. and rin is so pathetic too, he had to stop himself from looking at the stands where you normally sit, because seeing the empty chair would shatter his heart into a million pieces. so he’s there, back where he was at the beginning right before the game, squeezing the life out of the lump of plastic in his hands. taking a sip whilst crushing it with his strong hands. from rage. from something. some instinct inside him telling him he has to destroy everything. god he wants to. he’d burn the fucking world just to see your pretty face again right now. and you would do anything for him too. anything except look at him when he’s in close proximity, that is, because when he walks out again you have to hide your head out of shyness.

god you’re both pathetic, you’re gushing over him from the stands with your heart thumping wildly inside of the ribcage of your small frame, and he’s going berserk on everyone. the game isn’t even close. how can it be close when rin is angry? he thrives from anything negative in nature, the poor boy was set up from failure right from the beginning. even his instincts as a striker are self destructive. but you were so good, something not akin to the destruction he knows at all. the opposite. and now he’s stuck hating himself for the abhorrent stupid decision he made. he really shot himself in the leg there. the game isn’t close at all, it’s really not.

you’ve seen him like this a few times, towards the ends of games. tongue out mumbling nonsense. you’ve seen this side of him when he fucks you sometimes too. when he fucks you so hard into the bed you’re worried about your spine fracturing. rin is a monster, don’t ever doubt it. it’s crazy really, and a little scary. watching him play like this; you honestly just put it down to passion for the sport. that’s why he left you after all. but you couldn’t be anymore wrong. it’s because of you, he wants to fucking obliterate this field in your name. and when he scores the winning goal, with a shocking score of 5 - 0, you can’t help but jump out of your seat and exclaim his name. and he could have swore he heard it. you think he looks beautiful, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, the veins popping out of his hands, his face; you don’t know how he manages to stay nonchalant even at times like this. itoshi rin is a prodigy, a godsend to soccer and to you. it’s a shame he slipped out of your hands so fast. slipped right through your fingers. he’d say the same thing about you.

maybe you could have been together in a different life, but it’s his fault you’re not in this one. and he detests himself for that. all he can think about is you, so when all the stupid fucking tabloids come rushing over to him when all he’s trying to do is go to the locker room, he gets pissed off. so pissed, they’re asking him why he was so angry, what was his motivation for this match. he played so well, better than he’s ever played before; so in tune with the ball, with the sport. this is itoshi rin’s true essence, pure unadulterated destruction. it’s thanks to you, obviously. but he can’t tell the world that. he doesn’t want anyone else to know about you, you’re his for fuck sake. not anyone else’s.

but everyone is dying to know! it’s not like they don’t know he has a girlfriend, but they don’t know who she is. he could tell, but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the sting in his heart that remembering your sweet laugh and cute face brings. they almost give up, he’s as sour and bad mannered as his brother. the same attitude as his brother towards interviewers. the itoshi brothers are not known for their charisma, they’re renowned for their skill not their fan service. they’d never participate in something so lukewarm. they almost gave up. almost.

because when they see the girl in rin’s jersey and a coat that’s far too big on her, presumably his, running towards him with her arms stretched out for a hug, they have their answer. they have it even more when rin holds her back and looks so starstruck. looking down at her, holding her like she’s the most valuable thing he could have ever gotten from this day. from this week. month. year. lifetime. more valuable than all of the trophies and awards he’s claimed. how he holds her so tightly and kisses her forehead, cameras be damned. everyone has their answer. even rin needs a princess, he’s not immune to human emotions. no, he’s immune to those. they’re tepid. but he’s never immune to you, you are the one virus, invasive species, bacteria, germ, all of these, that runs through his bloodstream. and he doesn’t mind it.

you look up at him when you both pull away to see each other’s face for the first time in what feels like forever. you broke up a day ago, well two almost, the time zones are different. but you look at each other like you’ve been yearning for the other’s touch and affections for a lifetime.

rin knows here and now he loves you, and he was fucking stupid to let you go. he can play football and love you. he can multitask. god; you’re almost his reason to keep playing this sport, to be the best, he wants to impress you. the light in your eyes as you look up at him, big beautiful eyes. so cute. he’s holding your shoulders still. he never wants to lose skin to skin contact with you again. you look beautiful, wet lashes from crying, red nose, big puffy lips, red cheeks, tears rolling down your cheeks now. he leans in to lick one off, he truly can’t give a single fuck about the lukewarm freaks recording this moment, at everyone gawking at him, at the scolding he’s going to probably get from his pr manager later. you’re face to face, and god, he never wants to let you go again. he licks his lips to taste the remnants of your tear he just lapped up. and he almost smiles at you. you know he’d be smiling if he wasn’t itoshi rin, the softness in his eyes gives him away so bad.

he leans into your touch as you brush a piece of his hair out of his eyes. as you lift your hand to caress his cheek as if he isn’t some fucking deranged monster on the field, like he’s an angel, a petal that could bend. and you smile up at him. rin opens his mouth to speak the first word in what feels like a century to you.

“hey”

“hi”

[orangeblossomsintheair]

Got anymore dad thoughts for any cod characters? Would love to see something with Price (the man was meant to be a father)

BECAUSE I LOVE YOU | JOHN PRICE

an : ur so right anon he was absolutely meant to be a dad i love him sm. this is pre-dad john more than anything.. 😔

“Have you been pregnant before?” you ask suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence in the room.

John pauses, hands still wrapped around your foot, his thumbs mid-press into a spot that’s been aching all day.

He lifts his head, eyes narrowing at you. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief as his hands resume their firm, steady motion. “Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but biologically speaking, I’m not exactly built for that kind of thing.”

You squint at him, undeterred. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, then what the hell did you mean?” His tone is gruff, but there’s a hint of amusement under the surface.

He always has that undercurrent with you. A softness he tries to disguise with his bark.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t,” he counters, glancing up at you briefly before turning his attention back to your foot. “But I’m dying to find out.”

“You always know what I need,” you accuse, pointing a finger at him.

“Like this.” You wiggle your toes for emphasis. “You knew I needed a foot massage before I even said anything. How do you do that?”

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “You’ve been limping around all day and groaning every time you sit down. Wasn’t exactly a tough call.”

You cross your arms, refusing to let him brush it off. “It’s not just this. It’s everything. You always know what I’m craving, or when I’m upset, or when I’m about to cry, even when I’m trying to hide it. It’s weird.”

“Weird,” he repeats, his tone dry. “So I’m weird because I pay attention to you?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. “Exactly! How do you always know?”

John lets out a slow breath, sitting back a little as his hands leave your foot. “Because I love you.”

The way he says it, calm, steady, like it’s the simplest truth in the world, makes your heart stutter.

“That’s not an answer,” you say, your voice quieter now.

“Yes, it is,” John says, his gaze steady, unreadable, but something softer lingers in the corners of his eyes. His hands never stop working over your foot, kneading away the ache with practiced care. “I just… know, alright?”

“Know what?” you prod, narrowing your eyes at him.

He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening like he’s weighing the words in his head. Finally, he mutters, “How you are.”

“That’s vague,” you counter, lips quirking.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I know because I pay attention . Like how you always chew on your lip when you’re thinking too hard. Or how your hands shake when you’re upset, even if you’re smiling. I know the difference between your happy sighs and your tired sighs. I know the exact moment you’re about to ask me to grab you a snack but you’re too stubborn to say it out loud. I know because I’ve made it my business to know.”

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet certainty in his tone. “That’s… weirdly sweet.”

His brows pull together, and he huffs a short laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Weirdly sweet? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Well, yeah.” You grin, sensing his discomfort and leaning into it. “I mean, you’re supposed to be this big, gruff guy, right? You bark orders, fix broken things, intimidate anyone who looks at me wrong-”

“I don’t bark,” he interrupts, giving you a pointed look.

“Oh, you bark,” you tease, deepening your voice in a poor imitation of his. “‘Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Let me carry that for you, ma’am.’”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he just shakes his head and resumes working on your foot. “That’s the worst impression I’ve ever heard.”

“Rude,” you shoot back.

“Honest,” he counters. His thumb presses into a particularly tight spot, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“You’re dodging,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him again.

“I’m not dodging. I’m sitting here rubbing your feet after a long day, and this is the thanks I get? You calling me weird and making fun of my voice?”

“Oh, so you’re playing the martyr now?”

“If the shoe fits,” he mutters, smirking when you swat at his arm.

You glance down at him, trying to hide the way his words make you feel all soft and warm inside.

“Okay, sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of yoy. You make it sound so.. simple.”

“Because it is,” he says matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just keeps his hands moving, his touch firm and grounding. He's silent in that way that tells you he's thinking so you let him stew.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’m supposed to notice. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, watching him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitates, his hands stilling briefly. Then he looks up, meeting your eyes with that quiet intensity of his. “If I don’t notice, who will?”

Your breath catches, and for once, you don’t have a snarky comeback.

He smirks, like he knows he’s thrown you off balance. “What? No smart remark?”

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he shoots back, but his hand brushes over your ankle in a gesture so gentle it makes your chest ache.

“Admit it,” you say softly, the words more of a dare than a request. “You love me.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something quieter, something real. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Say it anyway,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He leans forward, his hand cradling your foot, his gaze steady and unflinching. “I love you,” he says, his voice low and rough around the edges. “Even when you’re being impossible.”

You smile, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “Damn it, John.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He squeezes your foot one last time before setting it down and shifting closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you in. “Come here, you sap.”

And when his lips press against yours, it’s not rough or hurried, it’s steady, grounding, and full of all the things he doesn’t say out loud.

You laugh, breaking from the kisss, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he counters without hesitation.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he challenges, and before you can come up with a retort, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek.

When he pulls back, his expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it. “You’re everything to me,” he says quietly, and the weight of his words settles over you like a blanket, warm and comforting.

“You’re going to make me cry," you whisper, voice thick.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’ll just give yourself a headache, and then I’ll have to deal with that too.”

You laugh through the tears threatening to spill, leaning into his touch. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Here I am,” you agree, and for once, you don’t feel the need to say anything else.

[rafesweetie]

⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader

“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “

cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.

jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.

there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’

“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.

“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.

“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.

“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.

“mhm,”

he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”

“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.

“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.

“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”

“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”

“yeah yeah. maybe later,”

sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.

“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”

“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”

“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”

“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.

his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.

“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.

“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”

“m’not lying!”

the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”

you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”

“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”

“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.

“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.

“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”

so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.

you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.

you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.

“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.

“when did you become responsible?”

“since now.”

you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”

“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”

with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.

[mythelixir]

Right now, who are you, what do you need to hear from your future self and your inner child? Pile - 1

Pile - 2

Pile - 3

Pile - 1

Knight of Wands - reversed

King of Swords - reversed

2 of cups - reversed

Ace of Swords

Aura colour – orange/purple

What’s your vibe?

Well, to be put simply, you are reckless. You’re someone who is driven by adrenaline, never allowing anything to stop you. To you, the world is a small place, and everything is simple. But all these are carefully crafted façades. You, in reality, are restless and fearful. You fear that the time given to you is too short and you might die tomorrow, you live in that fear. So you do everything now. YOLO right? So, you lack self-discipline in the excuse that it only cripples your adventure. But to a heavy contrast, you feel for the people you love, so deeply that you protect them with the life that you so fear losing. You are an idiotic fool that everyone loves but fears you aren’t in your right mind more than half of their time.

You are someone who is gifted with the power of intellect along with victory. Doesn’t mean you’re favoured that way, it's just that the hardships you face, you always find a way to get out of, with triumph at that. Hence, you give off confidence in your walk and talk. I just saw a lioness. While lions are signs of reign and power, they are also known for laziness. But lionesses? They are the symbol of elegance and royalty. While some things confuse you, you don’t get stuck in it for long. You understand the problem and solve it quickly, you’re very action oriented. So, when people see you, they see someone reliable, someone they know can handle shit on their own. In others' eyes, you are that bitch that they fear.

You give off major Aquarius/Sagittarius vibes.

Messages from your future self:

I know you’re tempted to just use others around you, and step over their efforts to get to your destination, but please, don’t do it. You’re only damaging yourself in the process. Telling yourself, “One last time” before doing it? No, you're going to do it again, trust me. It will be like an addiction, even when you know you should stop, you won’t. You can't. Trust me. I know being this Ice Princess is a tempting imagery right now but that ice that is meant to pierce others? It will only impale you. Power-hungry jackals, you hate them right? Then why are you seeking to become one? Write down your feelings instead, so when you read them back, you’ll understand why you’d stopped yourself. Love yourself a little. Show yourself some peace. You need it.

Message from your inner child:

So you fear touch because you were never hugged, lulled to sleep or comforted when you cried as a child? No open communication, only screaming matches? Always being said, “You’re younger, you don't know the world. Just do as I say���. Unrealistic expectations that you were never able to meet? Well, when you were younger you might’ve, but as you got older, shit just didn’t make any sense. You wanted to rebel all of a sudden, but even when you did, you were brushed off as “immature”?

But now, it’s time to change the narrative. Start small—acknowledge your pain and let yourself grieve the affection and understanding you missed. Surround yourself with people who make you feel safe and loved, and learn to set boundaries with those who don’t. Explore self-soothing practices like journaling, meditation, or holding a soft object when you feel overwhelmed. Teach yourself that touch can feel safe again—start with something gentle, like hugging a pet, or even placing a hand over your heart to remind yourself you’re here. Speak kindly to yourself; replace harsh inner voices with affirmations like, “I am enough,” or “I deserve love.” Engage in therapy or support groups to unlearn the lies you were told and create space for your true self to grow. Healing begins when you nurture the love and care within you that was always waiting to be found.

Pile - 2

The Empress – reversed

Queen of Cups – reversed

The Hierophant

2 of wands

Aura colour – white/red

What’s your vibe?

You are controlling and manipulative, but that stems from lack of self-worth and constantly neglecting your needs. You simply cannot control yourself so you rectify that problem by controlling the people around you, that can either drive them away or to you. You might be the sole earner/breadwinner of your family, this power trip might be the reason for your behaviour. The cards also strongly suggest the presence of a woman/ feminine energy had negatively impacted previously in your life, which now has shaped you to be sceptical to women, this also might result to you being called “pick-me”. But no, you are just comfortable around men. This kind of treatment also makes you incredibly bonded with nature and also, food. You love treating the people you love with food and also, when you are depressed, you need rain/ rain sounds + lots of tasty food.

You also suffer from emotional imbalance/ low EQ. Insecurity, emotional insecurity and self-neglect are themes that you see yourself falling into. This leads to lack of empathy, distrust and animosity towards people that are nice just for the hell of it. You either loathe it because you think they’re being fake or you just hate them for being something you cannot. You also think emotional detachment is the way to go. You give off tsundere vibes.

Major Taurus/ all water sign vibes.

Messages from your future self:

You lack a belief system and you know that ruins you. The nights when you feel no one is there for you, no one can hear your wailing cries, you fail to get back up because of it. Because you have nothing to believe in. That breaks you from the inside. If people fail you and you hate the idea of following a religion, then imagine you future, where you see yourself. Where you succeed, where you are loved by everyone and work towards achieving that, when you do that, you have something to live for. A silver lining in the darkest of clouds. And, there is nothing wrong with being conventional/traditional. People stick with olden ways because they’re proven to work. So you do you!

I kept hearing “Too sad to cry” by Sasha Sloan when I was writing this, give it a listen but keep a box of tissues with you.

Message from your inner child:

I know you probably fear large bodies of water—it’s okay. Something must have happened back then, something that made the water feel less like a friend and more like a threat. You’ve learned to cope, though. You keep a support system nearby, like friends or a lifeguard, or rely on floaties to keep you afloat. But that fear also made you fall in love with the warmth of summer and spring, where the sun feels like a hug and you don’t have to face the uncertainty of deep waters.

You’ve always been the one who plans, the one who maps out their path because people around you (your parents/uncles/aunts) seemed to have glided through life, never planning anything and you’ve seen things go wrong because of it. And that because of that, your anxiety made you an avid planner.

But guess what? That’s your strength. You hold the world in your palm, ready to shape it your way, one thoughtful step at a time. I see you. I’m proud of you. Keep going.

Pile - 3

Ten of wands – reversed

King of Cups – reversed

9 of wands

3 of pentacles – reversed

Aura colour – gold/black/blue

What’s your vibe?

You’re the people that appear in those movies with truck load of books in their hands and fall over, stumbling out of balance. You take on too much, be it work, responsibility. You’re nothing short of a pressure cooker now, ready to burst any second. I got this image from this movie called “The 3 idiots” where they heads swell up like a balloon and burst due to an overload of information. It is supposed to be funny, until its not.

I feel like now, you’re trying to let go of certain things, delegating some tasks, freeing yourself. You’re setting clear boundaries, prioritising tasks and overall, gaining a better understanding of your situation as a whole. Teamwork is a part of your stress and you are starting to realise that/ you’ve already recognised that as your problem.

The cards also point to a lack of maturity and the need to withdraw from emotional situations rather than facing them head on. You may be emotionally detached,  avoiding expressing your feelings openly and also create walls when going into a relationship. You may also have a sharp tongue or make decisions hastily/in the heat of the moment. You might have unhealthy coping mechanisms, when I see you I see a person with dark cirles/ eye bags/ bitten nails.

Major water/fire sign vibes.

Messages from your future self:

You are so fucking strong and resilient. Believe in that. You are someone who doesn’t ever give up because you see other people doing shit and think “Well, bitch, I can too”. That is you. But also please, proceed with caution. Stop once in a while to take a breather, because even the strongest I people need rest to succeed in battle. You are someone who has gone through and will go through so much shit but the will to live, never once faded. You have this strength in you to just, go on.

I don’t know why but when I saw this I got remembered of this one meme from arcane, where this dude’s shirt says “I survived act III, but at what cost”.

I heard “Sign of the Times” from Harry Styles just now. Wow. Well, that might be a good or a bad thing, only you will know.

Message from your inner child:

I see your fear of masculine energy, and I understand—it might stem from times when that energy felt overwhelming, controlling, or unsafe. You’ve built walls to protect yourself, and that’s okay; they were necessary once. But now, those walls can come down, slowly and on your terms. Not all masculine energy is harmful—some of it is steady, nurturing, and protective. Let yourself explore it gently, whether in others or within yourself. As for stagnation, it’s not a failure; it’s a pause, a moment to reflect and gather strength. You’re not stuck—you’re resting, preparing to move forward when you’re ready. Give yourself permission to heal, to trust, and to grow at your own pace. There’s no rush, no timeline you must follow. I see your strength, even when you don’t. I’m here, rooting for you, every step of the way. You’re safe now.

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[heesterical]

Birthday wishes - Heeseung.

Pairing : Heeseung x F!Reader.

Synopsis: It’s your birthday and you wanted to spend it with Heeseung but he's busy, so you hang out with your friends instead. However, when you reach home, there’s a surprise waiting for you.

Genre: Fluff. Hurt(?)-comfort.

Wc: 1.2k.

Note: rewrote this omg, the old one was hellish to read but it's cute

Birthdays are special.  

To some, it’s the one day of the year they allow themselves to indulge, to feel truly seen and appreciated. To others, it’s just another day.

But when something — or someone — important is missing, it’s like your heart is searching, and even a special day feels a little less whole without it.

You don’t mean to sound ungrateful, of course. 

You had tried to push it aside, focusing on your friends, your laughter, and the small distractions that kept you moving. Yet, as the day wound down and you returned home, the emptiness returned with vengeance.

“It’s just a birthday,” You mutter, fumbling for your keys. “I’ll get to  spend time with him soon, and it won’t even matter.”

Being an idol meant dedicating your whole time and life to your career; which you understood.

You understood, but it still sucked. 

It sucked that whenever you were free, he wasn’t. 

It sucked when you text or call him, he’s usually busy enough to not be able to respond until later.

It sucked that you couldn't go on dates with each other freely, that you can’t flaunt your relationship openly. 

And it definitely sucked that you were standing in front of your door and sulking to yourself, when you should be going in and winding down for the night.

You had been putting up with your friends teasing all day about how you were ‘moping around because you missed your boyfriend.’ You roll your eyes at the memory, unlocking the door, and walking in.

And immediately get a sense that something is off.

You grope at the wall trying to locate the light switch, while trying not to trip over the welcome rug that, in hindsight, seems like a bad choice.

You scan the space in front of you-or whatever you can see of it anyway, from the dim hallway light streaming in through the glass pane above the door. Nothing seemed to be out of place, but the brief moment of feeling like someone else was inside makes you uneasy.

You weren’t exactly the bravest person. Especially so when you were alone. And in the dark. Which you were right now.

You feel your finger brush the switch and you slightly sigh in relief, flicking the light on, when you suddenly feel an arm around your waist and-

“Boo.”

You shriek hearing the low voice in your ear, swinging your hand around, nailing the intruder right in the jaw amidst your freak out, not registering the familiar touch and voice.

“OW! Hey!”

You hear an all too familiar yelp and voice of protest as you swing around, looking up- only to see a frowning Heeseung rubbing at his face, his other hand held up in surrender as you gape at him.

“It’s me- it’s just me. Calm down.”

You continue staring at him, wondering what the fuck was going on.

“Calm down?” you demand in a breathy voice, your hand on your chest as you attempt to calm your raging heartbeat.

“You- you rascal! You nearly scared me to death!” You swat at him, chasing him inside as he desperately tries to get away from your flailing fists.

Heeseung bolts behind the couch, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he shifts from side to side, evading your attempts to corner him. “I finally got you back for all of your jumpscares~” he teases, ducking as you swipe at him.

Then, with a dramatic flair, he adds, “I mean, you scream like you’re auditioning for a horror movie. Should I be worried?”

You pause for a moment to snatch up a pillow before turning to him. “Oh, you’re so done!”

Before he can dodge, you launch the pillow straight at his head. It lands with a satisfying thwack!, leaving him sputtering and laughing as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to surprise you.”

He doesn’t really sound sorry, so you march forward instead, grabbing the fallen pillow and pounding him with it as he laughs, falling onto the couch and pulling you with him.

“I really don’t know whether I want to kiss you or to shove you off a bridge right now.” You glare at him, wiggling in an attempt to get away from his hold.

“Can I pick?” He asks, a cheeky smile on his face, as you try to struggle out of his embrace, but he chuckles, tightening his hold on you, just watching you put up a fight.

“What are they feeding you?”

“What?”

“How are you so strong?” you grumble, visibly giving up and going limp in his arms. He laughs at your reaction, leaning down to whisper in your ear,

“Happy birthday, love.”

His hold on you gentles, and his eyes are so warm and fond that you can't stop the smile that tugs at your lips.

You know what you wanted to do with him now. 

You wanted to kiss him.

So you did - leaning up and pecking his lips once, twice and thrice; and pull away to look at him. But he pulls you back to him again, kissing you slowly, his hands sliding up your back and into your hair.

You sigh a little against his lips, the last of the emptiness ebbing away.

Slowly, you two pull away from each other, grinning. He presses a soft kiss to your chin before he shifts you to the couch, getting up. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you up, even as you protest weakly.

He leads you to the kitchenette attached to the living area, an open cake box with unlit candles sitting on the counter, and you feel a nervous flutter in your heart. 

“You planned this, didn’t you?” There is no bite to your accusation, “you said you weren’t free today!”

He doesn’t answer, merely shrugging in response as he lights up the candles. 

“Happy birthday, Y/n.” He wishes you again, holding the cake up so you could make a wish and blow the candles.

You grin at him, happy that your wish came true even before without wishing it in front of a birthday candle.

You close your eyes, making another wish and blow out the candle, very much amused at how excited he looks.

You open your mouth to thank him for the cake, when he suddenly swipes his finger on your cheek. You immediately realise what he had done and gasp.

“Heeseung!”

He cackles in response. He’s managed to get you twice within the last half hour, and he’s delighted.

You reach out to grab him but he ducks away as you take some cream yourself, ready to return the favour.

You two chase each other again, smearing cake over the other’s face when you grab him around the waist and rub your face against his cheek, laughing as the frosting gets on your clothes.

You two stop fooling around for a few moments, just laughing and holding each other, his arms around your waist and yours on his shoulders.

“Thank you for today.” You whisper, smiling goofily, very much happy compared to how you had returned home. He always managed to make you smile and now seeing the big grin he gave you warmed your heart. You lean in and kiss him again softly.

With frosting on your face and a smile stretching your cheeks, you realized that sometimes, it’s not the day itself that’s special—it’s the people who make it unforgettable.

Can someone uber me my very own Heeseung, please?

Enhypen Masterlist.

[chanranghaeys]

🐸 “come here, hold my hand.”

request from my og @tusswrites! "come here, hold my hand.” “you’re washing the dishes.” “…i can do both…” with minghao? please i love this man and I’ll crumble if he says this to me 😭

pairing: minghao x gn!reader word count: 1k+ genre: fluff, slice of life (HELLO IT'S ME) rating: pg tags: pure fluff, physical touch as the love language, mundane stuff, household chores, request prompted washing the dishes so you will have washing the dishes, i try to make up a song warnings: none

a/n: finally found the random inspiration for this drabble that ended up with more than 1k words. purely self-indulgent. bear with me. as someone who always washes the dishes, i want this. bow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Minghao is a strong believer in physical touch as a love language.

Popular media doesn’t showcase this all too well because of the image and concept that has been formed around him. Still, physical touch is the love language that remains superior in his opinion. This means being able to reach out to the other person and hold them in any manner, being in proximity to them to express how you feel, and being in the same room with each other regardless of what you are doing.

He says it’s about having something tangible to hold—tactile in his hand and palpable on his body—and how he appreciates having the people around him to physically ground his thoughts and dreams that can soar as high as the heavens allow. It reminds him that he doesn’t just have his rational mind anchoring him down but also something and someone to help make sense of things.

Minghao, contrary to popular belief then, is actually a very clingy person.

Words are not and will never be his strong suit. Yes, he can write. Yes, his words are like poetry, like water flowing through the rough in cascades of emotion, but they only come out when the cup is full. On a day-to-day basis, Minghao expresses his love which can be felt even through the slightest brush of hands.

This is a fact that you learned almost immediately.

He comes home, wordless, whether to his place or your place, and the first thing he does is go in for a hug. No matter where you are or what you are doing, he forces you to stop so he can hug you for who knows how long, deeply, fully, and wholeheartedly—not that half-assed wraparound from the side that people excuse for a hug.

It’s a habit he started during a particularly trying time in his life. He would pull you closer and engulf you in his arms, burying you in his scent as he buries himself in the crook of your neck or the crown of your head.

Naturally, during a particularly trying time in your life this time, you picked up his habit easily and did the same to him.

Scientific studies show that a 20-second hug is enough to release oxytocin that can lower stress levels and improve quality of life. Whatever the research says, you and Minghao do agree that this little practice has made your lives easier and more bearable than they used to be.

Recently though, you always end up missing each other at home. He would come home late nights and early mornings after schedules to find you sound asleep in your bed, while you would wake up a few hours later to his sleeping form recovering from the previous day’s demands. You’d come home one too many days to a space devoid of his comforting presence, and the same could be said for him.

It happens, you think. It’s absolutely normal. Being this busy just means that both your lives are taking a turn for the better, right?

But still, you miss him, despite coming home to each other every day. You miss the simple act of sharing your silence together and you miss the way his touches would simultaneously calm you down but also keep you on your toes.

Today, you couldn’t help but feel lonelier than usual as you set your jacket and bag down to be greeted by a dark apartment room. Based on his last message a few hours ago, Minghao was still in the studio practicing. He sent a selca with the other performance unit boys and you don’t deny how you stared at his sweaty hair and bare smiling face for a minute longer than you thought you did.

But you had a good day at work, where everything just worked out the way you wish every day would, and you absolutely will not let anything rain on your small moment of happiness. No, not even the mess of a room you left this morning and not the pile of dishes you didn't realize remained unwashed this morning.

So you turn on the speakers and press play on a song that has Minghao’s voice fill the empty space. It was one of his unreleased demos for his recent solo EP. It was a shame because this was your favorite from his endless roster of songs—a song where the lyrics talked about how the most mundane of moments could be the most special if you had your love’s hand to hold.

You started on the dishes and got lost in the process almost meditatively in the menial task. It was enough to startle you when you heard your name from behind you. You see him in fresh clothes and slightly damp hair, a clean scent emanating from his presence.

“When did you get home?” You asked in reply to your most favorite voice in the world.

“Just now,” Minghao instinctively reached out to latch onto your waist, easily letting your gravity pull him to you in your natural ritual of finding purchase in each other's nooks and crannies. As if you were two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, he molds his body against yours with his chest flush to your back and his hands folding on the flat of your stomach.

He breathed in your scent and you felt his smile against your temple. Instantaneously, you relax against his touch as he says against your ear, “I missed you.”

You turn to find his lips, softly pressing yours against them and repeating his words to him. With a smile, you continue your reply with a melody to your voice. “Come here, hold my hand.”

You feel his chuckles with his cheek pressed on yours when he says, “But you’re washing the dishes.”

“I can do both.”

So he does, intertwining one of his hands with yours—albeit awkwardly—and helping you finish the chore in front of you. His soft giggles mingle with yours as you two find a rhythm to washing the dishes among four working hands.

You two stay in this position for a while with the song still playing in the background, the lyrics resounding as you sway in time with the rhythm.

“Come here, hold my hand, pull me in, and let me orbit around your gravity…”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: still from my little drabble request game and still accepting requests! all you gotta do is shoot an ask <3

[rotomartsblog]

I’ve been thinking about my version/rewrite whatever of Ever After High so I’m just gonna list a few lore tidbits about the world and some of the characters

So first things first I want to say that my version of the EAH school is more based on European secondary education than American (since I’ve decided that EAH should logically take place in Europe). Mostly N. Ireland’s secondary school system since that’s what I’m most familiar with. Anyway- EAH students go through seven years of school from around age 11 to age 18 (give or take a bit). EAH officially has two stages of education; the Freedom stage and the Legacy stage. The Freedom stage is the first three years of school and the Legacy stage is the remaining four years. The Legacy stage itself is split into two sub-stages, Pre-Signing and Post-Signing. The story begins in the second year of the Pre-Signing Legacy stage, where Legacy Day will take place at the end of the year. Students also can only room with people from their year.

I wanted to actually establish what the Curse on Wonderland actually is since that never actually gets explained in canon. Basically, the Curse takes the form of an erupting black fountain in the centre of Wonderland that leads up to the sky, “polluting” the atmosphere. It has both a physical and mental effect on the people of Wonderland, making them physically weaker while also “corrupting” their minds I guess? While the people of Wonderland have developed medicine and treatment for the curse, it’s more effective against the physical symptoms than the mental ones and it isn’t widely distributed.

Speaking of Wonderland, the Alice of the story is the only “character” that follows the Legacy system, because the rest of the characters are from Wonderland and don’t follow the same rules as Ever Afterlings. This doesn’t mean that the characters don’t have family legacies and traditions but they operate separately from Ever After’s.

Speaking of Alice, Alistair has been trapped in Wonderland since he was 10 years old. He isn’t as fond of Wonderland as his canon counterpart. Also his last name isn’t Wonderland it’s Adventures. I know that’s sounds equally stupid but it’s makes more sense to me based on the lore I’ve established.

Card people have the ability to go “flat” like a card. Also, they’re made of the same material of a playing card (specifically card stock), and they feel like such whether they’re flat or not.

Card people are limited to only two colours in their designs; white and the second colour depending on what suit they’re from (Clubs are green, Diamonds are blue, Hearts are red, and Spades are purple), except their eyes, which can be any colour. The exception to this is royal cards, which have three colours; white, black, and their suit colours (also their eye colours of course, which in Lizzie’s case is green). The outlier to this entirely is the Joker cards, which have no set rules for how they’re coloured.

There’s never a set number of Jokers for each generation of card people. In the previous generation, the parents generation, there were two: the red joker and the black joker, but in the current generation Courtly is the only Joker card.

Chess people are living chess pieces so they are made of wood.

Card and Chess people aren’t ‘born’, they’re literally made.

Lizzie, Kitty, and Maddie are the first Wonderlandians to attend Ever After High.

When the Evil Queen was imprisoned, all known entrances to Wonderland were closed off. However, new ones can be made either on purpose or accidentally. This is how Darling ends up in Wonderland.

When Ever Afterlings go to Wonderland their colour palette changes because idk I think it looks neat.

Also the Evil Queen cursing Wonderland and being imprisoned would’ve taken place like right before Raven started EAH.

Okay done talking about Wonderland onto something else. King Charming is a piece of shit human being. He’s a bad dad and an unfaithful husband who has a whole lot of illegitimate kids. Blondie is one of them.

Raven ended up rooming with Maddie in their first year at EAH because over half of the students in their year requested to specifically not be roomed with Raven.

Briar’s mum was asleep for 100 years because I don’t want to work out how it’d make sense if she was from the previous generation. Rosabella’s mum is Briar’s mum’s great-niece. Briar and Rosabella call each other cousin because it’s simpler.

Rosabella, despite what is believed, is actually the Beast in the story. The reason it’s believed she’s the Beauty is because the society of EAH is #sexist and #homophobic so the idea of the Beast in BATB being a girl or a boy being the Beauty is unbelievable. Rosabella suspects she’s the Beast because when she was younger she grew horns, though she’s forbidden from telling people this.

Briar and Rosabella’s parents are not on speaking terms because of a situation revolving around Rosabella’s horns. When they grew in, Briar’s parents had offered to babysit Rosabella while her parents were busy. Briar’s dad then dehorned Rosabella (and he wasn’t trained for it so it wasn’t a pleasant experience for Rosabella). Rosabella’s parents were obviously upset about this so they cut ties with Briar’s parents.

By the time the story begins Ashlynn’s mum is dead so she’s kind of going through it. Her dad hasn’t remarried yet.

I’ve messed around with the ages of some characters so while most of the main cast is the second year of the Pre-Signing Legacy stage, some are in different years. I haven’t worked out everyone but the important ones right now are that Dexter and Darling are in the first year of the Pre-Signing Legacy stage and Ramona is in the first year of the Post-Signing Legacy stage (and Justine I guess since they’re roommates).

Also most roommates will probably be the same as in canon since I can’t be bothered to change those.

Despite Legacy Day being when you pledge to follow your destiny, there are expectations on people whose stories typically happen when they’re young (case in point: Alistair being in Wonderland when he’s 10). Cedar often deals with people prodding and asking questions since she’s still a puppet as a teenager, though her dad also started his story late so it isn’t unique to her.

Raven doesn’t listen to Tailor Quick in my version. Sorry to swifties but sometimes you write a character and realise some things don’t work with their personality. Raven listens to goth music and dad rock. Dexter still listens to Tailor Quick though.

Speaking of music tastes, Poppy listens to Ska punk and Holly hates it so much.

Cupid was told to hide her monstrous features when going to EAH, so she’s masquerading as a Cherub. Also for a majority of her first year at EAH she’s faking her personality.

EAH’s school is specifically for European stories and there are different school in other regions for their stories.

Idk how yet but I’m planning on including references to other fairy tale authors and collectors like Andrew Lang.

I’ve planned a few arcs and mini stories for my version, some of them replace canon arcs. A few of these are a story based on A Wonderlandiful World, a rewrite of Way to Wonderland, a rewrite of Dragon Games that features two of the mention regional schools, a story I can only describe as “Cedar gets psychologically tormented by an arm puppet”, the Blood Knight story, and a story that replaces Epic Winter.

While EAH is typically only open for people with legacies to follow, there is a course available for people without legacies. However, it’s incredibly expensive and the course is kept entirely separated from the main course. Non-legacy students aren’t even allowed to be roommates with legacy students and there’s few opportunities for the two courses to interact. Poppy was originally in this course before Holly managed to get Headmaster Grimm to transfer her to the main course and the Charming family have a deal with the school so that none of their children go to the non-legacy course.

That’s all for now I think.

[unsoju]

✿ thinkin bout you. 𓂃 k. kozume x f. reader

cw. word count ; 1.9k. part 2 of ; trust. trust who? beach day episode. anxiety. kind of insecure! reader. kuroo appearance. keiko already knowing about kenma and reader. kind of suggestive? they don’t do anything, but they mention things that happened in part one.

syn. after the mishap with kenma last month, things have gotten more and more awkward, and you have gotten less you, as time goes on. keiko invites you to the beach, in hopes of cheering you up.

It’s a good day for the beach. There aren’t too many people here, because it’s a Monday. The sun is out, but there are still clouds in the sky, so it’s not swelteringly hot out. You’re with your best friend, skipping school with no consequences since your parents already said yes to a beach day.

Beside you, Keiko is laid out on her beach towel, letting the sun beam down on her skin as she hopes and prays for a good tan. You, on the other hand, have your knees pulled up to your chest, sunglasses on, and you’re reading a book.

“Are you still reading that godforsaken book?” Without looking over, you can tell Keiko doesn’t even have her eyes open. She knows you too well, she could probably predict your every move at this point. You do, in fact, look back, though, a smile on your face. Her eyes open and she props herself up on her elbow, tilting her head. “We are literally at the beach, Y/n. Like, the sun is out, the waves are crashing against the sand, or whatever. Enjoy the sun!”

You sigh, but make a show out of closing your book and setting it to the side. Your arms end up wrapped around your legs and you rest your cheek on a knee. “It’s hot. I can’t just sit there and tan like you do— I get bored. Why can’t we go in the water yet?”

“Because Kenma and Kuroo haven’t shown up yet.” Your stomach drops at the mention of his name. Your eyes dart away from her, now glued to the water. “Besides,” she says, laying back down, “I still have a few minutes left before I can stop tanning my front side.”

“Kenma and Kuroo are coming?” You ask, voice quiet and distant. You haven’t talked to Kenma in weeks. The thought of seeing him again makes you nervous. Briefly, you’re insecure about the swimsuit you’re wearing, but then remember that night in his room and stop.

“Mhm. It’s their senior skip day, that’s why my parents said yes to me skipping too.”

You hum in response. That makes sense, logically, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. You sigh and glance back at her once more. She looks so peaceful— so happy. You with a resigned purse of your lips, you stand up. “I’m going to get ice cream. You want strawberry?”

Her answer barely reaches your ears as she mumbles out a yes. You brush the sand off your hands and look out to the water again. You think you might want to go home again right now. There’s a few people lining the beach; some college kids playing beach volleyball, an older couple sitting very close to the water, a singular woman laying down and enjoying the sun.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. For a moment, you start to think about excuses you could use in order to escape. But then you think back to when Keiko was so excited that you agreed to come today, and a frown finds its way onto your face.

As you make your way to the ice cream shop, you can’t help but zone out. You try to keep your eyes in focus, but they just can’t. you’re too focused on Kenma and him showing up and the possibility that he told Kuroo what you two did and how Kuroo is going to snicker at you and judge you and—

A familiar laugh pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s loud and it’s annoying and you look up to see Kuroo and Kenma walking straight towards you.

Now, you have two options; there’s a group of bushes beside you. You could jump in and hide from them, risking your dignity and also the fact that it would probably hurt. Or. You keep walking, chin high, and pretend nothing is wrong.

You glance at the bushes, then back to the pair, and slowly realize that Kenma has already spotted you. You wrap your arms around yourself and go with a secret third option.

You put your head down and speed walk past them, ignoring Kuroo’s greeting and Kenma’s cat-like eyes burning into your skin.

There’s no time to think about what just happened— how embarrassing and plain rude it was— because you’re at the ice cream shop in less than ten steps after passing the two boys. Just like the beach, there’s not a lot of people there; two people working, and one person sitting down at one of the tables.

You’re less than a yard away from the counter, when there’s a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to look at them. Kenma stands in front of you now, shirtless and a little out of breath. Did he run back here? 

There’s a sheen of sweat covering his body and, in the sun, it almost looks as if he’s sparkling. You want to throw up. Instead, you plaster a smile on your face and blink a couple times. “Hi, Kenma. Are you getting some ice cream, too?”

If possible, his face falls even flatter. “Cut the bullshit,” he snaps, making you flinch backwards a little bit. Kenma has never been an aggressive guy— well, maybe that’s not true after knowing what you know now, but he’s always been nice to you. “Why are you acting so… weird?”

Again, you blink at him, face blank, eyes dumb. There are so many scenarios running through your head; you tell him why you’re acting weird and he gets weirded out. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he stops talking to you. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he tells Keiko, effectively ruining your friendship.

“I’m not…” you trail off, eyes darting anywhere but his face. This is it. This is your chance. Speak now or forever hold your peace, right? You huff out a quick breath and meet his golden eyes once more. “I’m acting weird because you were my first kiss and then acted like nothing happened! And then you took my virginity and did the same damn thing!”

His eyes widen comically as you rant. Almost too fast for you to even process, his eyes sweep the surroundings before he grabs your arm and drags you away to a more secluded place— one where no one will see you. 

Your rate picks up again. You find it often does that when you’re around Kenma.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hisses out, hand still gripping your arm. It makes you think back to that night when you first asked him the question, and you have to suppress a shiver. “You— I thought— you left my room before I woke up the morning after. You were the one who told me not to say anything to Keiko when I kissed you. You acted like nothing happened first. I followed your lead because I thought you didn’t want Keiko to know.”

“I don’t, but—”

“Then this is not just on me,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kenma this mad before— you don’t think you’ve ever seen him mad, actually. “It’s partly my fault, because I was stupid enough to—”

It’s silent for a moment. The breeze kicks up, blowing both of your hair in the wind, yet there isn’t a word spoken. He stares at you, and you stare at him— silent.

“Stupid enough to what?” Your voice comes out in a shaky, weak whisper. You sound pathetic, and you know it, but you don’t care. Tears begin to sting at your eyes and you stare at him dumbly.

He hesitates, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He seems to be calmer already. “Shit, I—” he takes an indecisive step forward, brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t— I wasn’t going to say that, I was—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t saying that taking your virginity was stupid. I was just… It would be better if you weren’t Keiko’s best friend, you know? I’m glad you are, but…”

“But it complicated things,” you finish for him, nodding. You look down at the ground and a singular tear splashes onto the sand. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just, um, wanted someone I trusted.”

“I know.” His hand finds your arm again, his fingers are cold against your sun kissed skin. “And that’s perfectly fine. I think I already said this, but I’m happy you picked me and not some random guy from school.” This gets a small laugh out of you and, when you look up, Kenma is half-smiling too. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was kind of mean.”

You giggle again and sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s okay. I kind of yelled about you and my virginity in front of those ice cream workers, so it cancels out.”

“Yeah,” Kenma laughs out, nodding. “I guess it does.”

You two stare at each other for a moment longer, basking in the comfortable silence that settles around you.

Kenma is the first one to talk. A hesitant question as he tilts his head, “So?”

You mirror his action, tilting it the other way, and furrow your brows. “So?” You repeat. Your mind catches up to what he’s asking and your eyes widen. “Oh. So. What do you… I mean, like, I know that I, personally, wouldn’t—”

“What are we gonna tell Keiko?”

The question stops you short, your brain seems to stutter. “Oh,” you breathe out. “I… did not think about that.”

“I don’t think you need to tell her.” The new, but familiar, voice cuts through the air like a sword. You can feel the air around you get freezing cold. You swallow hard and slowly turn around to Keiko standing not even five feet away from you, hands crossed over her chest. Kuroo stands next to her, brows raised in complete and utter disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She exclaims, marching towards you. “You lost your virginity to my brother and didn’t tell me?”

You can’t even talk right now. Your throat is dry, your brain is fried, you can’t breathe. “Keiko, I can—”

She glances back at Kuroo for a millisecond before they both start cackling. They clutch their stomachs and double over, wheezing and gasping for breath.

You and Kenma exchange glances, confusion written on both of your faces. “Uh.” Kenma scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “What’s happening right now?”

Keiko, through her gasps of laughter, looks up at you and shakes her head, taking another step towards you and hitting your shoulder. “I already knew, you dumbass. I was just waiting for you to say something and you just, like, never did!”

“Oh my god.” You blink a couple times, staring down at the sand once again. “Oh my god. Keiko, what? How did you know?”

Her laughter has stopped now. She looks at you, leans close to your ear, and giggles before whispering, “you need to learn to be more quiet. Be happy my parents weren’t there for you to wake up.”

You can feel your face heat up. Kenma gives you a confused look, but you shake your head, mumbling something about telling him later.

“Okay, can we swim now, or what?”

All three of you look at Kuroo and laugh. “Yeah,” Kenma nods his head, unexpectedly throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go swim.”

[thepunkmuppet]

approaching The Confession Scene and what the fuck. this is genuinely tragic like I’ve always seen it as a meme, a joke, an iconic moment in fandom history, whatever, I’m a tumblr user, but now that I’m actually here it’s just fucking SAD

season 15 as a whole is NOT bad. it’s really not. but there’s zero destiel. they rarely speak at all unless it’s plot-related, one (1) episode pairs them together, frankly season seven was ten times more focused on their friendship and that’s INSANE because cas is only in like five fucking episodes of that one. they have a mini arc midway through the season which is very gorgeous and well-done, but it then goes absolutely nowhere and nothing at all is done to make it textually romantic.

by which I mean: no episodes have dean or cas reacting personally to sam and eileen’s relationship, or any other romantic relationship they come across. we’re never shown anything even remotely romantic even in an unrequited sense (no post-realisation awkwardness, no lingering shots of cas pining from afar, etc etc). it reads like a normal season of the show, which, yeah, I think those two are pretty fucking gay regardless, but they’re always textually written as a friendship, with no explicit cues to clue the audience in that there are canon romantic feelings. and that doesn’t change here, at all.

so I guess what I’m saying is the confession scene is purely just a moment of fan service. as stunning as the speech itself is, and as well as it fits cas’s character, the writers throughout the season didn’t actually give a fuck to make destiel ROMANTIC even in a one-sided way. film is a language and as much as misha does in his acting, even from castiel’s perspective they’re still framed as a friendship within the show itself RIGHT up until he says the words I love you. they weren’t interested in actually depicting a (even one-sided) queer love story, just wanted to give fans their “okay here it is we did it guys!” moment at the end, so that way they didn’t have to actually show an explicitly romantic gay love story, they could just say some words, kill cas off and boom it’s canon! here you go people we’ve been leading on, mocking and low-key gaslighting for eleven years!

idk man it’s just so disappointing. I knew it was and I know everyone has been talking about it for years now but my GOD it’s so bad 😭 I can’t even tell you how bizzare it is to have seen destiel confession meme on here and in various fandom video essays EVERY DAY FOR FOUR PLUS YEARS and now here I am, watching it go down in real time with full context, having watched over 300 episodes of this show, invested, obsessed, and REALLY FUCKING UPSET AAAAHHH

EDIT: forgot to mention this originally. the actual concept of cas’s moment of perfect happiness killing him, while kind of stolen from buffy, is AMAZING. and the literal perfect opportunity to have a building textual confirmation of his feelings throughout the season, where he realises what that moment will be, and it ends in the tragic confession of his love. like that’s insane that’s perfect. but no it just comes out of nowhere so oh fucking well whatever I guess! they’re canon so we should all be happy! I hate this stupid bumhole show AUGH no one talk to me ever :(

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS AND SLEEP

scout: scout sleeps like a wild animal. he will be diagonal on the bed with his arms and legs hanging off. half the time he’s not even on the bed. he falls asleep surrounded by the random stuff he uses to fall asleep. a book here, a set of cards that will never be a full deck again because they got lost in the sauce of the bed, an empty cup and plate. snores lightly. heavy sleeper. can sleep anywhere as long as he can lay down. doesn’t have dreams often, and when he does they’re strange. they never take place somewhere he recognizes. sleepwalks. normally to the kitchen. medic’s caught him there in the middle of the night, staring at an empty plate, and ushered his unconscious body back to his room.

soldier: soldier can also sleep anywhere but he does not need to lay down. unless he’s made an exception, he’s got a strict nighttime routine and is in bed if not asleep by 10pm. he’s a shifter, and a blanket stealer. light sleeper. he can register in his subconscious exactly who is in his immediate vicinity by their footsteps echoing in his mind as he has dreamless sleeps. he will tell them to get away from him and never crack his eyes open the entire time. fast to fall asleep, and early to rise. scarily quiet sleeper. you don’t know he’s alive unless you watch his chest rise and fall.

pyro: pyro’s bed is a princess themed dream scene. plush and pink. so much pink. and the bed is so soft, you just sink into it. duvet is unimaginably thick, and under that layer is an electric blanket. even sitting on the bed can overheat you quickly. pyro agonizes on which stuffed animals get to share the bed. normally caves and puts them all on the bed. they tuck themselves in, read themselves a bedtime story, turn their night sky projector on and falls asleep on their back, staring at fake stars. has strange, unexplainable dreams. many colors, many voices, but none of it makes sense.

demo: demo is normally in an alcohol induced nap. he’s never had issues getting to bed. doesn’t have an awesome bed setup, but it’s good enough for him. needs a cold room to go to sleep. can’t sleep in the heat. a tumultuous sleeper. talks and grumbles and turns and lets out particularly loud snores. this could stop if he laid on his back but he hates back sleepers. just has a small amount of beef for back sleepers. like they think they’re cool because they sleep on their back. but they’re not. and they think “oh just sleep on your back you’ll get great sleep” but he doesn’t because he’s never tried. so they’re liars and assholes. he’s tried sleeping on the floor, it wasn’t for him.

heavy: heavy is an optimal sleeper. by 9 he’s got his sleepytime tea, by 9:30 he’s not talking to anyone. he’s gearing up for rest. side sleeper. blanket hogger. snorer. and it’s LOUD. doesn’t bother him any, though, and nobody’s complained about it. whenever he’s asleep and he’s not in his room, it’s like white noise for the rest of the team. light sleeper, it doesn’t take much to wake him. he will be marginally disoriented, and irritated if he rises before he’s expected to, because he won’t be able to get back to sleep unless he immediately attempts to go back to sleep.

engie: engie doesn’t go out of his way to sleep, to his detriment. actively stays away from beds because it’s like a switch flip from him sitting on the bed thinking “oh i’m just gonna take a quick break” to him family guy death posed on the bed, hardhat shoved between the wall and the bed, goggles thrown on the floor, snoring, drooling. can sleep for a solid 18 hours if allowed to, and is hard to wake up. his team allows and encourages it because he doesn’t sleep. and just because he’s asleep doesn’t mean he isn’t available for his team. scout has knocked on his door, been allowed in, spoken to engineer, gotten effectively stated answers that is incredibly valid and should work within the context scout provided, scout then asked for clarification so he was getting it right, got the clarification, left, returned for his help because he fucked up the answer and needed him physically, and engineer was still asleep, and his answer has shifted to “get out”. disoriented when he wakes up. toe stubber in his confusion. he’s one of those guys who shoot out of bed and then sits and stares at the floor in shock. rolls out of bed more often than anyone could feasibly do. much more normal after a shower.

medic: medic does not sleep. he can’t even consider it sleep. when he tries he lays on his back and stares at the ceiling at around midnight and then he blinks and his alarm is going off. that’s not sleep. gets better results not on his back, but frankly just doesn’t sleep. he naps outside of his room, and it gets him by. his favorite place is spy’s smoking room. the couch spy keeps in there is uncomfortable, and it’s stuffy in there, and it reeks of tobacco, and there’s no blankets, or pillows. it’s his optimal sleeping arrangements. he doesn’t like feeling too comfortable in rest, he remembers as a boy it would be so hard to get out of a bed that’s too soft. he’s a busybody; never allows himself “laziness”. normally spy will stay out of there if medic makes a timely request for it, but he won’t leave if medic comes and crashes on the couch. medic is a very quiet sleeper unless he’s cold. so he stays. keeps the fireplace going. smokes his cigarettes and reads. he’ll shoot up after some hours, rubbing sleep from his eyes and leaving without another word to continue his day.

sniper: another quiet sleeper. can and will get in every spare second of rest he can find. just pulls his hat over his eyes, and he’ll be gone in about 5 minutes. very light sleeper, essentially sleeps with one eye open because any noise will wake him up. has crazy dreams about his teammates. he’s tall, so he’s generally hanging off any bed he’s got. two limbs will always be a sacrifice from the blanket. he’s a fast riser unless he’s hungover. sometimes lets out these long sighs, like a dog, then rolls over. keeps a knife under his pillow, and under his bed. grips them when he’s having nightmares. doesn’t dream too often at all, though.

spy: spy snooooores. very softly. but he does snore. also drools. also normally family guy death posed on the bed; he doesn’t make active attempts to go to bed at a decent time so he just falls asleep whenever his body is begging for the sweet release of death. heavy sleeper. slow riser. eyes barely open when he first wakes up, before slowly pulling himself together in bed. running his hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes, stretching. kinda hot for the fly on the wall. when he actively tries to go to bed, he sleeps with his back to the wall and his eyes on the exit. generally normal dreams. as normal as dreams can be. likes a warm room to sleep in. easier for him to make the transition to being fully awake. has fallen asleep smoking before and had a dream pyro came in and torched his bed. and he couldn’t get up, or out of the bed. he was stuck there. woke up gasping, and decided he should probably make better attempts to sleep properly, and maybe not smoking before bed wouldn’t hurt either.

[swingandadrive]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ green to silver

⊳ fernando alonso x f! reader | lewis hamilton x f! reader

⊳ fluff angst | age gap

⊳ summary: sometimes letting go is for the best

⊳ words: 836

You loved..love Fernando, you really do. It was weird, to feel that love slowly form into hate.

You knew hate could turn into love, but love to hate? That was something unexplainable.

Actually, you could explain very bluntly. Fernando stopped caring. He stopped loving.

“Y/n, princess..I promise you this weekend will be all yours, I’m sorry” He’d say as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then disappear for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know what had gone wrong, or why it had happened. You hated being called princess, yet he still called you it.

“Listen Y/n, I’m busy with work..I’m not performing as well, I'm stressed and have other things going on!” Fernando yells, hands going up as he tries to get his point across, again.

It was repetitive. It was the same cycle.

You look at him, a frown on your face as you cried- you knew. You always knew. Deep down you knew he’d never be enough for you, his words- his promises, the “I’m sorry” or “I’ll try harder” meant nothing.

“You just aren’t my top priority right now..” He’d remind you again.

For whatever reason you stayed, you weren’t sure why. You’d cry yourself to sleep more nights than you’d admit, always asking yourself what you saw in him and why you were staying.

After three years, you’d expect to be treated better.

“Listen- amor you need to stop treating our relationship like a marriage, we aren’t married” Fernando says, wiping a tear from your face.

You knew what he meant, but did you really? It always felt twisted when he said those words.

Almost like your relationship truly didn’t mean that much to him.

“Hey love, how are you doing?” Lewis says, giving you a side hug, smiling gently at you.

You knew Lewis, you’ve known Lewis for a little longer than you knew of Fernando- Lewis is the reason you two got together.

Now Lewis had always been kind to you, maybe too kind. You knew Lewis was an attractive individual, he’d shown interest in you.

You’d never admit it but you’d think of him softly from time to time.

“I’m alright, just tired is all” You say with a soft smile, eyes fighting the urge to close and stay closed.

You spent another night in an argument with Fernando.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is! It’s truly not that serious amor!” Fernando says, back to you.

“It’s serious to me Nando! It matters to me, I just need you to understand that..” You say, reaching out towards him.

Being ten years younger than him had always been in the back of your mind, personally you would say you weren’t insecure about it, but it definitely weighed you down.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s okay, Y/n” He says with a sigh, turning to face you and place a kiss on your lips.

I’m sorry.

How many times have you heard that? To you an apology was null and void without change.

“I think we should take a break- I..I want this break” Fernando says, it was the first thing he said to you after he returned from a Grand Prix.

You sit in bed, mind trying to wrap around at what he was saying. A break? Why the fuck would he want a break if he loves you.

“But- but what about what I want? I don’t get it Fernando” You say, tears starting to slip. You didn’t deserve this, you were amazing to him.

“I need to focus on what I want, I have other priorities right now” He says, sitting down next to you on your bed.

So what you wanted didn’t matter? In a relationship with two people, what you wanted didn’t matter?

That doesn’t make sense.

“I still want to be together, I still want you in my life..I just need a break”

Oh.

“So what? All of the moments were for nothing?” You whisper out, not being able to talk above a whisper without falling into tears.

“I don’t know”

You sit there, mind rushing as you try to collect yourself.

It confused you, because first of all you’re both adults, was this simply just immaturity on his part?

It had been two weeks, message after message had been sent to Fernando’s screen, and you hadn’t got any response.

So you officially broke it off, he wanted to stay loyal, to wait it out.

But how could you when Lewis was standing right there?

He wrapped his arms around you, holding onto you as you cried and mumbled out nonsense into his chest.

“It’s alright, love…you’ll be okay” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head.

You grip onto Lewis’s hand as you both walk into the Britain GP, sunglasses on and head down as you hear the multiple cameras go off.

You knew there would be posts, articles and pictures everywhere.

Y/n L/n and Fernando Alonso broke up, and not only that, she got with Lewis Hamilton.

Instagram

y/n.l/n

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and others

y/n.l/n recently…

Comments on this post have been limited

lewishamilton: ❤️❤️❤️

y/n.l/n: ❤️❤️

carmenmmundt: so great to see you again!! 💛

y/n.l/n: you as well carmen! ❤️

lando: come to mclaren

y/n.l/n: no

lewishamilton: not a chance mate

lando: no fun

chloestroll: miss you ☹️

y/n.l/n: awh miss you too 🫶🥹

user7492 bro she is such a bop like what

user0183 nando is way better

user47399 i don’t think she gaf 😭

user0183 well she should

user93702 ew she should start dating someone her age, what a gold digger tf

user5378 her and nando seemed off at previous GPs I wonder what happened

user6363 she prob cheated let’s be real 😭

alexandrasaintmleux: can’t wait to see more of you ❤️

y/n.l/n: so excited!! ily so much 🫶

user3929 why do so many of you judge her 😭 like you don’t even know her 😭

Liked by author

You stifle a sob as you wipe the tears from your phone screen, letting the message from Fernando go unread.

Why couldn’t someone see it from your perspective? Why could no one try to understand, or just try.

You would never be happy, would you?

⊳ I needed to write something angst so this is that! I hope it was a good read. It was a short write but a fun one!! please leave any comments or requests!!

[diazheartsbuckley]

🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫🚫

Hello my dear 💕

A little bit of insomnia fic coming your way 💕

🚫🚫🚫🚫

When Buck realizes that Eddie only sleeps at night if they’re on the phone, he makes it his personal mission to make sure that it happens. He knows that Eddie has admitted that it helps but seeing it in action is another thing. One night in particular stands out to Buck because he catches a glimpse of what Eddie has been trying to handle alone for the past four months.

He sees Eddie stirring in his sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, lips and brows furrowed and even a low whimper escapes his mouth.

Buck never brings it up with Eddie tho, knowing that the fact he has even dared to talk about his feelings is overwhelming enough for him. And they don’t talk about it at work either, not because people can’t know that Eddie is struggling, because most of them have caught on.

But because it feels so intimate. Because it feels like it’s just the two of them in the world when they’re both awake at 2 am, not saying a single word but finding equal amount of comfort in just knowing that the other person is there.

And apparently Eddie talks in his sleep. A lot. Most of it doesn’t make sense but sometimes it does and it’s either immensely heartbreaking or funny. One time, Eddie was mumbling about Shannon’s death and Buck saw his entire body tensing up as it happened.

And Buck wants to ask about it but it hasn’t felt like the right time yet. And although Eddie is the one who often calls him in the evening, even bringing it up feels like a violation of his privacy. Yet curiosity gets the better of him one night when they’re sitting in Buck’s kitchen, Eddie’s fingertip tracing the label on his beer.

“I-…I didn’t really know if this was appropriate for me to talk about but I just couldn’t help but to wonder” Buck starts out carefully, testing the waters.

Eddie lifts his head and tilts it slightly, urging Buck to go on without saying anything.

“You talk about her sometimes in your sleep, you know? Shannon, I mean. And it made me think about how much you must miss her. Everything happened so fast and-..”

“I miss her everyday, Buck. But the reality is that I lost her a long time before she passed away and I don’t know, sometimes that makes it sting even more”

Make me write ✍🏻

Using this as my fuck it friday 💕

Tagged by @tizniz 😘

Np tagging 💕(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

@watchyourbuck, @thekristen999, @theotherbuckley, @wikiangela, @daffi-990, @underwaterninja13, @giddyupbuck, @bucksbignaturals, @bucksbirthmark, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @devirnis, @spotsandsocks, @hippolotamus, @honestlydarkprincess, @namjroon, @jeeyuns, @wildlife4life, @ronordmann, @exhuastedpigeon, @actualalligator, @kitteneddiediaz, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @extasiswings, @princessfbi, @inell, @steadfastsaturnsrings, @actuallyitsellie, @diazsdimples, @epicbuddieficrecs, @pirrusstuff, @elvensorceress, @bidisasterevankinard, @dangerpronebuddie, @jesuisici33, @rainbow-nerdss

[vidavalor]

Hi! I’ve been reading your metas and I’ve got a couple questions cause either I absolutely suck at understanding or I was just overloaded with information

1. For the fish meta in ineffable husbands speak, what does Crowley’s “off the hook” actually mean cause you said something about hook being communication but like it’s definitely wrong if I interpreted this as Crowley thanking Aziraphale for not communicating with him ahaha

2. For the coffee meta about Aziraphale drinking coffee, what’s Crowley’s response ‘Not really’ mean? Like I’m pretty sure I’m wrong when I interpreted it as Crowley saying that he doesn’t find Aziraphale calming him down that pleasing 😭😭😭

And additional question if you’re able to fit it in here but do you think Ineffable bureaucracy actually went to Alpha Centauri or are still on earth?

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & for reaching out. I'm always happy to clarify stuff. 😊 *makes tea and gets out the cookies* Answers to the three questions are below. Please let me know if this response doesn't make sense or if there are other questions that you have.

About the etymology of "off the hook" in 1941 mentioned in the Fish meta:

When someone has gotten into a bit of trouble but then the person with whom they're in trouble has decided to let them carry on without consequences for the actions, we would say that the person was let "off the hook", right?

In the scenes prior to this one in 1941, we saw that Crowley had gotten into a bit of trouble with Mrs. H, as she had paid him for whiskey that he was unable to deliver. To help Crowley, Aziraphale volunteered to do his magic act in exchange for Mrs. H letting the lack of whiskey go. Mrs. H agreed so it was really Aziraphale who got Crowley off the hook with Mrs. H.

When Crowley thanks him for it when they're back in the bookshop, he says: "Cheers for getting me off the hook." In choosing that term among the others he could have used, he's created a couple of puns/innuendos in the sentence and made the thank you also a knowing bit of flirtation.

"Off the hook" as an expression has two, main roots: fishing and telephones/communication. It is figurative language that developed from people comparing that to a caught fish escaping the hook of a fishing line. So, Crowley's thanking Aziraphale by comparing himself in the situation to a caught fish who was trapped and had no visible escape from the line until Aziraphale stepped in and got him off the hook. There's a metaphor happening here, though, as well, because of what it is was that Aziraphale helped Crowley with-- dealing with the broken bottles of whiskey.

If you go back to the earlier part of that Fish meta and what we looked at regarding what's suggested about the situation around them first having sex and then you look at the euphemistic use of alcohol as related to sex throughout the story-- which is a bit easier to see in Crepes, the post that preceded Fish-- then what we're saying is that Crowley sees the same metaphor that Aziraphale does happening on this night in 1941 and that's that Aziraphale coming to the rescue of Crowley and his broken bottles of whiskey/alcohol in 1941 = metaphorically, the first time they had sex in Rome.

Crowley in a jam with some broken alcohol bottles-- whiskey, no less, when his signature drink is Talisker, which is a single malt scotch (scotch being whiskey made in Scotland)-- and Aziraphale being how he got off the hook in 1941 is a bit metaphoric for their origins in Rome, where, as we looked at in the meta you're talking about, we looked at the heavy suggestion across different scenes of Crowley's trauma-induced situational anorgasmia and Aziraphale helping him to heal from that. The "off the hook" part is a fish/sex-referencing joke while the way Crowley says the line is such that he's saying "getting me off" in there as well, for amusing maximum related innuendo. It's acknowledging the metaphor to the past that is understood between them because of that shared history at the same time as it is also about what's happened in 1941.

Where this crosses into communication, too, is that the other origin of "off the hook" that came up independently from the fish origin but kind of alongside it is that "off the hook" also comes from old telephones. For ages, as we all know, telephones used to be connected by cords into wiring in walls and you had to make sure that the phone part of your phone was in its cradle/receiver when you were done with the prior call because, if you didn't? The next phone call then wouldn't be able to come through the phone.

If someone was trying to call you and your phone wasn't fully hung up and ready to receive it, it would just ring endlessly on the caller's end and not ring at all on the end of the would-be recipient of the call. The call wouldn't be able to happen. This was known as someone's phone being "off the hook"-- meaning, it wasn't able to receive calls and the people involved couldn't talk as a result of that. It refers to the inability to communicate.

Communication is verbal but it's also physical for sexual partners and talking, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, is incorporating different definitions of communication across other scenes. It's wording, it's speaking more directly, it's sex as a whole and different forms of talk in bed-- if it can be communicated, it's talking. The word talking has those multiple meanings to them, some of which I got into as part of this meta about Crowley's "we've been talking for millions of years."

This is about equal in the etymology of "off the hook" to the fish-related history of the phrase. This is what gives it a little extra oomph when it comes to phrases that Crowley would choose because he's talking about Aziraphale having helped him with a problem that night that they both see as metaphoric for Aziraphale having helped him through having a disordered relationship with sex. They put the phone back on the hook. The phrase he chooses in flirting while thanking Aziraphale for the assist that night is one that references sex via both fish and the good communication that made, and still makes, that possible.

There's also that, ironically, if you do that good communication in bed right, you eventually get to a point where forming coherent words in general is an impossibility so that's a good version of off the hook that could be a way of looking at it, too. 😉

I didn't mention it in the meta you were reading but, given that a literal caught fish that doesn't wind up getting off the hook is facing death, there is also an element of sex-and-death happening in this as well. Since you seem to like these metas 😍, I'd recommend this one on sex-and-death in their speak, if you would like another one and haven't already seen it.

There is a third meaning of "off the hook", which is to say that something is excellent, incredible, on trend, etc... it's something that is massively exceeding expectations. This is American slang in origin, popularized from rap music, but is not that old as a phrase. This meaning of off the hook was not in existence in 1941 and isn't really applicable to the conversation here so I didn't bother with it in the Fish meta. It was the fish innuendo that Crowley was going for in that scene.

2. About Crowley's "not really" in the Six Shots of Espresso scene:

Wording like this is like a game. The object is to have a whole conversation on the surface about one thing where the words chosen to have that surface-level conversation are such that they're also talking about something else under the surface using those same words. This is very much the case in the Six Shots of Espresso scene.

Crowley has to reply to "does it calm you down?" with something that contains a level of truth and that satisfies the conversations on both levels at once with whatever words he chooses but Aziraphale, amusingly, has poked a little fun at the fact that Crowley's coffee-as-sex innuendo here means that the surface-level thing they're talking about is espresso, which is caffeine, which can actually be anxiety-inducing. [This while the opening scenes of 2.01 show that they're both feeling overly anxious of late as well.]

Aziraphale jokingly sets him up a bit with the teasing "does it calm you down?" because Aziraphale knows that six shots of literal espresso is an anxiety attack in a mug, even if sex overall does calm Crowley down for a bit. The literal coffee definitely doesn't calm him, though-- that much espresso doesn't calm anyone down lol-- so Crowley is now set up to have to answer in the negative because of the surface-level coffee part of the conversation.

The reply is "not really" because drinking six shots of literal espresso definitely doesn't calm him as it's a ton of caffeine but having six shots of euphemistic espresso also revs him up, too, just in a different way. Not the anxiety of the literal coffee but it gets him hot. It's true on both levels that it's calming-- overall and afterwards-- but not in the moment. To say that it did calm him down would have been to imply that the sex puts him to sleep and/or that he can be sated when, ultimately, he might be briefly sated in the short term but never overall.

Crowley always wants more coffee. 😉

3. re: where did Gabriel & Beez go?

I think this is one of those things where they could do any one of three or four different options and they all would work in the story. Whichever they choose will feel right when we see it. Story-wise, they could put them in Alpha Centauri or back at The Resurrectionist or just coming off a rollercoaster at a fair somewhere or any number of different things related to their story, and any of them would fit well.

Gabriel and Beez basically were written to "anywhere but here" territory for a few minutes in the story because The Final 15 never would have happened if they had still been there and it needed to happen for the overall story but they're going to come back into the story very quickly. We'll probably only be with them in that location for a literal minute or two when someone (I'm currently betting on Uriel) goes to get them and tell them what's happened.

If it were me, I'd put them in their Alpha Centauri-- alpha/beginning; cent/one hundred/money... the bar with the dollar bills on the walls where they first heard "Everyday" together and used it to talk about how they felt about one another...

...and I'd save The Resurrectionist Public House for a shot in the end scenes of Crowley and Aziraphale having joined Gabriel and Beez at their table by the jukebox to consume some food and intoxicating liquor together. 😊 We'll have to see what happens, though.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

#uhhh idk how to explain this idea right#but like....i think stories should be allowed to have mistakes. for a treat#it's like in tv shows when they had to save the budget for the final so there's reused costumes for los stake episodes#can't think of a single story thats perfect. wouldn't change anything. literally can't make a story with no flaws#sometimes the easy way around the flaw is just 'you gotta ignore that. that's not the point of the story.'#i feel like some stuff if you try and stop to explain it...it will change the focus of the story. suddenly it's a new story#like inception. entering and creating dreams is just a thing. the story just uses it. stop to explain how or why and that's something else#there wouldn't be space for the og story itd be a story about the creation of this thing#and like. listen. there are definitely some big plot holes. some poorly written stories. not saying bad stories are just misunderstood#but idk. i think you gotta stop wanting it to be flawless. that's never gonna happen#idk it's midnight hm#text#august rambles#also i tried to move a tag and it didn't work. so if the order of things doesn't make sense that's why#critical analysis hater spotted eek!#no but actually. i do like picking apart problems in stories and figuring out why it feels wrong or how to fix it#but it's almost like you gotta pick your battles. you only get to fix a few#or like. if the story is fine except for this one thing. we just don't look at that#the holes are giving it room to breathe#i gotta stop talking yikes

YOU ARE SO RIGHT AND DONT YOU DARE LEAVE THIS IN THE TAGS ITS AMAZING

Also I think there’s a huge difference between ‘This plot hole is here because the author was a poor writer’ and ‘This plot hole is here because (just like you said) our energy isn’t supposed to be focused on that’.

One of these means that the author needs to improve in this area of their craft, and the other means that if you’re getting nitpicky over a minute detail that doesn’t matter all that much you are missing the point of what they WERE trying to say and that’s on you.

ok idea. what if we gave stories a free pass for one or two plot holes. "this story thread had a big hole in it" ok good to know, that must not be the main point of the story since it's got plot holes. they must have put their attention on what they thought was the important part. time to look closer at the other parts

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Does anyone else, like, entirely lack a belief system of any kind and just run on primal instinct? I’ll listen to multiple sides of an issue and understand every bit of nuance, get emotionally invested, and then not pick any of them, because I think the reasoning of the respective beliefs cancel each other out when compared side-by-side. Then primal instinct takes over and forces me into acting more adjacent to one side than the other, but my brain does not necessarily agree with the entire position— only a portion of it; while also believing a portion of the other positions.

Or perhaps I merely think I have no opinions because the majority of today’s belief systems are so one-sided, while my positions are four-sided, and therefore unacceptable because I’m “not allowed” to agree with more than one side in any capacity without being ostracized by all of them.

I am proverbially lukewarm and in the process of being vomited out of the mouth of Christ.