#there was a longer rant earlier bc i was like wait what i do have the antiaesthetic i never thought of this conceptually i just ignored it

[kuromi-hoemie]

Extremely curious about what aesthetic you're talking about in your tags if you're comfortable sharing and ranting !

oh gosh i don't want anyone catching strays (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) uhh putting it as politely as possible i rly wish looking like Some Guy didn't default to looking like a boring regular white dude i wouldn't even register in my peripheral.

i don't rly register men in my view anyways usually but it Kills me that dykes do this too i see it so often on bumble here n on the streets sldkfkaka. like why is this such a common default as an expression of masculinity where is the fun !! the flavor !! 🤌 The Culture !! 🇧🇷 it is also very white here and I'm an afrolatina so (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

as a bisexual I'm also like. u could do anything and be anything that u want and that's the choice .. ? (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) this is killing me !! i tend 2 be drawn to artsy ppl n Weirdos™ tho so idk it's very boring in comparison. different things work for different ppl though 😅

i am always wearing a cute little outfit even my cozy clothes r cute ૮ ･ ﻌ･ა i am intentional about my fashion choices, i think there are a lot of little things u can signal 2 others in ur fits n i wish ppl played w their looks more !! but fr even a really simple low maintenance look can be hot just, why this alsjfjs help please tell me i am making sense

[daisynik7]

Business Trip

husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Nanami hates going on business trips now that he has you in his life. Even with food and hotel expenses paid for by his company, it’s not enough to distract him from the fact that he misses you. The two of you have the perfect solution for this, which includes a vivid imagination and the help of a little, but mighty, toy. cw: sex-toy use (vibrator), phone sex, explicit sexual content, language, Nanami is a bit mean, dirty talk, use of pet-names (honey, sweetie, princess), reader is called whore and slut (endearing lol), just pure nasty smut. Author’s Notes: More husband!Nanami smut! I was inspired to write this because I just purchased my very first vibe two weeks ago and boy, is it something. Hope you like this filth! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/cafekitsune! Tagging the lovely @liliorsstuff-blog bc I love her and Nanami is her husband. 😉

Nanami has a hard time when he has to go out of town for a business trip. He never used to mind it before; in fact, he liked being sent away to a different city every once in a while, especially when the food and hotel expenses were paid for. However, ever since the two of you have been together, he dreads them because it means time away from you. And he hates being apart from you. Absolutely hates it. And to be honest, you hate it too. 

This time, he’s sent to Osaka for a convention, staying at a swanky hotel covered by his company. He takes full advantage of this, ordering room service, indulging in a bottle or two of liquor from the mini bar. He even wraps himself in a fluffy robe after showering, sitting in bed with hair still wet at the tips. A single tap of his phone and he’s calling you, waiting a single ring for you to pick up. “Hi baby!” you answer, his mood instantly lifted at the sound of your cheery voice. 

“How are you, princess?” 

“Good. Just in our room now. How was your day?”

He spends the next several minutes recounting today’s festivities, including a funny story about him sneaking a second complimentary bento for lunch. You rant to him about your coworkers’ petty drama involving missing office supplies and stolen meals from the fridge. You both share what you ate for dinner, you complimenting the picture he sent earlier of the full spread ordered through room service. He sends you a quick snapshot of his current view of his hotel room, including his bare feet sticking out from under the robe. 

“Your room is so nice. Look at your toes!” you laugh. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

“Not yet. Still waiting for my hair to dry.” He pauses, contemplating for a split second before asking, “Are you in bed now?”

“Yup, all snuggled under the covers.”

He smiles to himself, picturing you cocooned in the thick comforter the two of you share, curled to the right side of the bed where you usually sleep. “Do you miss me?”

“Of course I do. I miss you so much.”

Without thinking, he spreads his legs wider, getting more comfortable against the pillows. “I miss you too, princess. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“Me too.”

There’s a moment of silence, tension hanging heavy in the static noise between you. Nanami decides to stop beating around the bush. It’s obvious what you both want. You’ve been married long enough, together even longer, there’s no shame or secrets anymore. “Wish I could fuck you right now,” he confesses.

You moan through the speaker, thighs splayed, reaching towards your pussy. Tonight, you’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, his scent lingering on the fabric, making you feel safe and secure in his absence. You sink into the cushions, whispering a breathy, “Baby.”

“Tell me what you’re wearing right now.”

“Just your t-shirt and my underwear.”

“Oh yeah? One of your silky ones?” 

You hum, confirming his suspicions as he loosens the knot of his robe, folding back the cotton to expose his hardening cock. “God, I bet you look so good right now.”

You giggle softly, lifting the hem of the shirt past your stomach, fingers brushing your skin delicately, imagining his instead. 

His voice is low, thick with lust. “I want to hear you come. Can you do that for me?”

“Mm-hm,” you respond, slipping underneath the waistband, teasing your clit with the pad of your middle finger. 

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, already knowing what you’re doing. “Not with your fingers, honey. Use the vibrator, remember?”

A whine escapes your mouth while you reach for the drawer to retrieve the small toy, the one you bought recently to supplement nights alone like this. He was the first to test it out on you, though. Made sure it was good enough to satisfy your needs. The recent memory of him pressing the fluttering tip to your clit, pumping wet fingers in and out of your cunt, has you throbbing. 

You push your panties past your knees, sliding them off completely at your ankles. With the blanket hastily stripped from your body, you spread your thighs wide, completely exposed from the waist down. A small bead of lube is just enough to get it slick. You rub the oiled tip up and down your pussy, finger on the button, anticipating the intense sensation.

“Don’t turn it on yet,” he demands. He wraps his hands around the base of his cock, slow strokes to start. “Tease it a little bit. Just like I do it.” 

Your husband always likes to take his time with you, no matter how desperate and aching for him you are. And when you’re two hundred plus miles away from each other, you predict he’s going to draw this out as long as he possibly can, both for his pleasure and yours. Not that you’re complaining.

You play with your clit, tingling bud pulsing against the smooth exterior of the vibrator. He huffs, “Don’t hold back. I want you dripping onto to the sheets. Can you do that for me, honey?”

Another moan escapes your lips, envisioning the mess you’re about to make with his sultry voice guiding you through it. “I can’t do it alone,” you whine, finger right on the trigger, raring to go. “Help me, Kento.”

“I’m right here, princess. Don’t worry. Just listen to me, okay? Follow my every word.”

You nod, hypnotized by each syllable uttered from his lust laden lips, like an obedient slut. You’ve almost forgotten that you’re alone in bed, convinced he’s whispering filthy instructions directly in your ear beside you, watching you unravel with the dormant toy pressed to your pussy. “Can you turn it on now, honey?” 

He’s gentle and affectionate in the beginning, hiding wicked desires behind endearing pet-names. Soon, he’ll start taunting you, tormenting you for being so fucking sensitive, so fucking needy. The two sides of him work together in perfect sync, angel and devil, both determined to make you lose yourself in the throes of passion. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing you, or in this case, hearing you, completely unhinged for him, and only him. 

When you finally push the button, the low buzz playing in the background, he can’t help but increase the pace of his strokes. He pictures your thighs open wide, the shaking tip nestled between your delicate pussy lips, the vibrations stimulating your clit, radiating down to your pointed toes. Head thrown back into the pillows, cheeks hot, tongue sticking out in that adorable dumb expression you make whenever you’re being fucked. It won’t take long for you to climax, not when he’s on the phone guiding you as he jerks his twitching cock. Just the thought of your body spasming from exhilaration is enough to get him off. 

“That’s it, right on your clit, honey. Does it feel good?” He knows it does, judging by how the only response he receives are your shameless moans. He chuckles, stroking himself faster. “I can’t understand you, honey. Does it feel good?” Still no reply, he growls, “Answer me.”

You choke on your spit, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. When you catch your breath, you let out a trembling, “Yes!”, resulting in another sinister laugh from him. 

“Feels so good, you can’t even speak properly, can you? Too fucked out to even think, huh? Nasty slut.” His devilish side kicks in, hell-bent on hearing you orgasm, to have you coming so hard you spill onto the sheets. “I married such a whore, didn’t I? That’s what you are, a fucking whore. You’re so fucking slutty for me, I love it.”

You’re a whimpering mess now, the vibe sending you into a spiral, clit aching from the relentless tremors. There’s not a coherent thought in your brain; you’re incapable of admitting to him that you’re close. You let him figure it out when you cry out, “Fuck!”, legs quivering and stomach tight from the intense high. 

“Give me your fucking orgasm, baby. Let me fucking hear it,” he spits out, sweat forming on his forehead. He’s since stripped his robe off entirely, laying on top of It while he masturbates to the sounds of his precious slut doing exactly what he wants her to do. What he needs her to do.

When you’re finished, you slide the toy lower so that it’s not directly on your sensitive bud. The fluttering tip starts making soft splashing noises at your arousal, indicating just how fucking wet you are. You place the phone right on your abdomen, hoping he can hear the lewd squelches from your pussy. For the first time since you began, you’re able to formulate a proper sentence, body relaxed into the mattress. “Can you hear it, baby? Can you hear how wet I am for you?”

He definitely can. “Ah, fuck,” he swears, fisting his shaft faster. His hand is not enough; it never is. But he lets his imagination do the rest for him. He knows how fucking juicy his pretty wife’s pussy is. Your perfect, luscious pussy lips puffy from overstimulation, covered in sticky sweet cum. He’d do anything for a taste of it right now, to run his tongue along your glistening folds, gather your slick and swallow it to quench his thirst. Dip his finger inside that gushy entrance only to stick it into his mouth, slurping every last drop. He admires the mental image before flicking his wrist with fervor, pumping his cock until he shoots his load onto his stomach. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the static noise and muted buzzing from the phone settling in the silence. Nanami looks down, inspecting the wreckage splattered across his abs, leaking down his side and onto the robe beneath. He runs his fingers through his hair, forehead tacky with perspiration, exhaling with a satisfied smile before calling out, “Honey? Are you still there?”

It's only now that he remembers that the low hum is from the vibrator, still buzzing against your supple skin. Reserved moans growing louder as you circle the toy back to your needy clit, ready for another round. 

Nanami smirks to himself, holding the phone closer to his ear, rock hard again. It’s going to be a long, fulfilling night. 

[bruiisedpetals-a]

long NON RP RANT — about work bc the audacity!?!??!   tldr: a girl who had applied and interviewed and confirmed her trial shift to be a barista last week and was V EXCITED so we cancelled another person for her trial .... showed up, said hi, chatted a bit, had a look inside, then said she was going for a walk to look around the area bc she isnt a local, and within 5 MINUTES (literally. five) ghosted, disappeared, text my boss and said “yeah nah bye”, and left me alone handling the whole place.  cue endless work for me w double the usual customers, and a shift that lasted three hours longer that it should have bc of the ghosting.

rel context: i work in a small coffee & bagel place, two people on one shift: one on coffee & point of sale and another to be the cook, we also have two online food delivery providers so we take orders in person and from two apps + i’m a barista and have line cook kitchen prac & experience so am actually a ‘cook’ ig?

so i mentioned in my post when i was half asleep yesterday that i had a new person coming into my workplace for a trial today, so i stayed late to prep for weekend trade + restock stuff, and came in early to set up everything just in case. we were v busy yesterday with food as it was so i had a lot to restock, and w mothers day tomorrow everything needs to be topped up more-so. that a lot of work by itself to be honest but manageable in between cooking, esp when you have an extra set of hands when its quiet to help.   look if you have seen any cooking show you might see that set up, prep and pack down take THE LONGEST ok.

 — our permanent staff consists of me and K, we have two other locations so we get help from Z and J, and they can usually cover the shifts that K and i can’t  (eg. K can’t do saturdays, i cant do every 3rd tuesday)  but they manage other locations so they are not available without prior notice.       so basically the only person who was available to work today was me, even my boss was busy moving house w his wife, 4mo and two under 8yo’s. —

this morning i’m at work at 7am, turn on things etc, set up my cooking stuff, open the coffee machine, nothing crazy. at abt 7:45am im chillin outside having a coffee and a smoke and someone walks up and it turns out to be the trial girl. we chat a bit etc, i show her inside and the machine    (she’s a barista and i’m the cook on shift)     —   i say that i just heard from my boss myself, bc she had spoken w him earlier that morning, and he’s on the way and should be here within 5-7 mins   ***technically we open at 8am but i was waiting for my boss but had checked the time to keep track & i had just text my boss back so i saw the timestamp***

so at 7:59am i head inside after i finish my smoke and she’s going to have a look where i told her there is free close parking for next time bc she took the train, at 8:04am my boss walks in and goes “WOW IT’S 8:04AM AND SHE’S NOT HERE lmao” (he did not yell it he’s a g - that’s just how i knew what the time was alksjfhg)     and i go “no she’s just having a look down [street] bc of the parking i literally saw her a few mins ago” and proceed to open the doors etc.  meanwhile i see my boss on the phone calling her, after a moment he comes over with a Whole “i cant fkn believe this” Face on while he’s on the phone.  i’m thinking “??? i hope trial girl didn’t get lost in these lil crossover streets damn”

(it’s 8:07am, from now the customers start. they DO NOT STOP until at least 11am, it was at least double the normal turnover of profits during that time so thats ur ref for how BUSY it got)

boss goes “ur not gonna believe this” and show me the mssg from trial girl who basically has said “hi i went to ur shop, and i had a wander around the area and its just not good enough for me so i’m on my way home”. she’s GONE. in those five minutes. she got up, lied to me, and was at the nearby train station leaving. boss is floored and i’m like !>?!??!?!@#!#?who IN THE FK does this?!?!? but the customers so *professional me is present rn*

between her and boss there’s a little back and forth (text, she wont answer any calls) where he literally pleads with her bc there is NO ONE who can come in an assist me and she confirmed yesterday and she WAS HERE, she continues to be like “mmmm well ik that we discussed this and i said that i would be here and its been set for days and i applied LAST WEEK etc. but... no sorry im going back to bed” and then blocks him.

& this whole thing takes place between

7:59AM — 8:07AM.

i was there from 7am - 4:35pm  / my usual saturday is 7:45am - 2:30pm

WHO DOES THAT. WHO IS THAT UNPROFESSIONAL. WHO??? WHOMST??? SHE WAS SO FKN RUDE I WAS liVID. LIKE. why LEAD us ALL ON. we all need to make a living do U THINk he can afford to lose a whole day of trade?? he’s got a whole FAmILY and his wife cant work rn bc she’s just had their 3rd child.   i live PaYCHECK to PAYcheck.  like this is life this isnt a game????   you are 29YRS OLD why cant u act grown 

[torislander]

rant

the worst part about being emotionally empathetic is that i cannot control it.

every video i watch makes me cry; videos of someone who lost a loved one, videos of animals, videos about someone being murdered, videos of people dancing, videos of people scoring a goal in a game, videos of war, videos of someone singing, videos of someone winning something, videos of people having fun.

it literally doesn't matter, i cry over everything.

i love it when people are really good at the things they love so i always cry over happy videos where someone is just casually doing really well at something that they like.

i also cry when other people cry, whether it's happy or sad or otherwise, if someone else tears up i will too.

i spend half of my time at home crying.

i cry during every movie i watch. i can probably count on one hand how many movies didn't make me cry. i even cry during like crappy low-budget films that absolutely should not make anyone cry.

if i hear someone arguing with someone else and it's very clear that one of them is in the wrong and the other one is just being horrible, i will literally cry out of frustration for that person.

i just get really sad for other people.

i cry the most when i don't have the comprehension of what someone is going through. so sad stuff where someone talks about how their friend died or how their boyfriend was murdered or how their country is at war. i have never experienced death at all, let alone war, therefore i have almost zero comprehension of what that could possibly feel like and then i just sob.

i saw a video earlier today of a girl sharing texts from her little sister who is presumed dead in palestine (the little sister is abt ten) and she was saying goodbye to her older sister because she knew she was going to die, so naturally i cried and cried while reading these texts because no one, let alone a child, should have to be kept awake by the sound of bombs wondering when (not if) one is going to hit her. anyway, i was reading comments and some people were like "this almost made me cry, that's so sad" or "omg i teared up at this, i'm so sorry for your loss", as i was literally on the verge of hyperventilating...

i'm obviously not judging anyone cause not everyone cries over these things and that doesn't mean they don't feel as horrible about it as i do, but i just literally don't know what it's like to not cry over something like that.

i also cry for myself sometimes when i tell a story of something that happened to me.

at work we swap stories all the time and sometimes they're like sadder things that happened to us (we don't trauma dump or anything, no one ever cries when sharing it's just stuff that were maybe not Over but we're more or less past (or it's just easy to talk about))(but sometimes they'll tell me a story of something that happened to them and it'll make me tear up and i have to pretend to go grab something so i can wipe them away loll)

but one time i was telling them this story about the last job i had where i worked last thanksgiving. we had a super long line out the door all day because people were picking up their pre orders and stuff (it was a bbq restaurant and we sold smoked hams on holidays that ppl would pre order). so anyway, so bc all of the orders were already in the system their order slips wouldn't print out when i check them in. i had to manually go in and re print it so it would send it to the kitchen so they would know what order to grab. some orders would take longer than others if they ordered to pick it up warm and got a lot of stuff, so it wasn't unusual for someone to sit there for twenty minutes (tops) while they waited.

this one lady came in and i forgot to fucking send her order slip to the kitchen. after abt 20 minutes i notice her sitting there staring at me and she looks pissed but a lot of people who came in that day got pissed when they had to wait 20 min because people are stupid. anyway so i kinda just ignored it bc i figured it'd be out in a minute and also i was super busy. another 20 min go by and i look up and she's sitting there and i was like "oh shit. i fucked up." meanwhile this lady is just sitting there scowling at me ten feet away. (now mind you, she did not at any point come up to me and question me or go up to any of my coworkers to question it, she chose to just sit there all pissed off for 40 min) so i kinda waved her over and i was like "have you still not gotten your order" which obvs she didn't so i was like "omg im so so so sorry, this is all my fault, i did this, i feel so bad, i am going to go tell them to drop everything and make yours real quick" which is exactly what i did, i went and begged the kitchen to drop their orders and make hers (knowing that they'd be pissed w me and they were but i didn't care) and her order was out in like three minutes. i offered her cake i offered her a drink and i continually apologized profusely to this woman bc i felt horrible about it. i felt so horrible abt it that i started to cry. in her face. i had to go into the kitchen to the back for like a quick sec to wipe away my tears and pull myself together.

but yeah, it was my fault and even though this woman didn't use her words and ask me abt her order for forty minutes which obvs was weird i still felt horrible and cried bc i was mad at myself For Her.

anyway, my whole point is that i was telling my current coworkers this like two months ago AS A FUNNY STORY AND I STARTED CRYING WHEN I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE PART WHERE I APOLOGIZED TO HER LIKE WTF IS WRONG W ME ITS A FUNNY STORY AND IT DOESNT EVEN MAKE ME SAD I WAS JUST SO FRUSTRATED WITH MYSELF BC SHE WAS FRUSTRATED WITH ME THAT IT STILL MAKES ME CRY.

i dont know what i'm talking about anymore so i'll shut up but i'm just saying i cry too much.

[honey-makki]

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together. 

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss 

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved. 

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem. 

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face.  Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left. 

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok. 

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you. 

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly. 

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release. 

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over. 

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works. 

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway. 

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs. 

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him. 

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of. 

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs. 

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection. 

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you. 

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze. 

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance. 

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before. 

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.” 

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust. 

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair. 

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment. 

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock. 

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-”  excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog. 

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face. 

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

 “Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair. 

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit. 

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.  

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out. 

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?” 

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral. 

Almost. 

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping” 

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly. 

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe. 

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more. 

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop. 

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more. 

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck” 

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again. 

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?” 

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach. 

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head. 

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure. 

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you. 

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television,  eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.” 

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter. 

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life​

[getofy]

millennia | k.tsukishima

—a/n: bro i found this random tsukki word dump i wrote in one go earlier this month after my friend ranted to me abt how me n him are soulmates and i decided to post it bc it’s cute >_<. enjoy!! sorry if the pacing is odd. i did not proofread this and only read through it like once lol. it’s not the best, but it’s smth!

pairing: tsukishima x gn!reader | pronouns: none used | cw: i say ‘h3ll’ twice; no spoilers | genre: fluff (blurb format) | wc: 629

synopsis: the love tsukki has for you is—as much as he hates to admit it—infinite.

—Tsukishima Kei loves you.

And it infuriates him.

He’s got no idea what in the hell is wrong with him. He didn’t used to think about you this way. Sure, you were always attractive, but one day, you became more than that. You became an object of desire. You became something he wanted—more than anything else in the entire world.

It took him a while—and several conversations with Yamaguchi— to accept, but now he understands that: he loves you. From the vibrancies of your luscious (h/c) hair to the bird-like screeches of your laugh, he loves you. All of you: your mind, body, and soul. The thoughts he has about you feel like they’re straight out of cheesy rom-com movie, not his brain. Every previously unbearable trait about your person is something that he now finds mind-numbingly adorable, and it’s all thanks to an incredible(-ly irritating) thing called love.

‘Adorable.’

He finds you adorable. So much so that it hurts. You’ve got Tsukishima completely vexed and incredibly annoyed. How dare you consume his thoughts like this? Have you no shame? No mercy? How could a person as unremarkable (remarkable), mediocre (incredible), and annoying (no, that one’s accurate) as yourself have such an impact on him?

And since when did you become someone he’d break his unspoken moral code for?

He’s never been someone who’d call somebody else ‘adorable’—save for the moments when he’d say the word condescendingly at some insufferable prick who decided to tick him off that day—but then, there was you.

And, oh, how you’ve ruined him. His usual cold exterior ever-compromised by the atrocities loving you has made him feel, and he hates you for it. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the wicked witch of the west. An enemy, attempting to break down the barricades of his ‘unfeeling’ heart (and doing a marvelous job, at that).

Tsukishima never thought he’d be the kind of person who’d be absolutely smitten by another, and yet, here he is, enthralled by your very being.

Ever since you came waltzing into his life, he hasn’t been himself. He’s been kinder, friendlier even (which terrifies his teammates, by the way). His personality becoming more on par with a love-struck puppy waiting for its owner to come and dote on it as the days go by than his typical one. You’ve changed him, and everybody knows it.

“Everybody knowing it” is not an exaggeration, by the way. It’s the cold, hard truth. Of course, it’s hard to not take notice of the love the middle blocker has for you when it’s so evident in everything that he does.

When he lays his head down on his pillow, and his mind wanders to scenarios in which you are his, and he is yours, it is evident that he loves you.

When he yells at Yamaguchi for pointing you out in a crowd, a faint blush painting his cheeks, and a pout taking over his face, it is evident that he loves you.

When he loans you a pencil in class and goosebumps start form on his arms from brushing his hand against yours, it is evident that he loves you.

He’s convinced that it’ll be like this ‘til the end of time.

He’ll love you for as long as the sun will set and the moon will rise—and maybe a little longer after that,

Hell, the sun could explode and the feeling in his heart would—probably—still not subdue (he says ‘probably’ because he can’t really guarantee that there’ll be any feeling in his heart after the sun explodes since the world’s probably ended).

A millennia could pass and he’d still love you.

He’ll love you always, and he’ll love you forever.

And maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima’s okay with that.

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit permission

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[ifmywishescametrue]

and bc i have no self control. #41 kisses to shut them up for rhodeytony

So this one spiraled so quickly, because I also have no self control! And now it’s a 3.4k words of 5+1 for Rhodey and Tony’s first kisses together. Hope you like it :)

The first time is something of a joke. Tony is doing that rambling thing like always, hands moving around rapidly and coming dangerously close to smacking passersby in the face. He gets more than a few dirty looks for it, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing. Rhodey isn’t even sure what he’s ranting about anymore. Maybe one of his professors, or that annoying guy in his physics class. All he does know is that he wants to get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza and Tony walks slow when he’s talking. So Rhodey grabs him by the wrist when his hand flies in front of him again, spinning him around and planting his lips firmly against Tony’s for just a moment. It does the job of stunning him into silence, but it also makes him freeze completely on the sidewalk. Rhodey keeps walking, and Tony has to run to catch back up. 

“What was that for?” Tony asks, eyes wide. 

Rhodey shrugs, “Had to shut you up somehow.”

Tony makes an offended squawking sound, hitting Rhodey with the too long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Rhodey’s sweatshirt, technically. 

“That’s rude,” Tony says. “You’re getting me ice cream to make it up to me.”

Rhodey laughs, slinging his arm over Tony’s shoulders to pull him along. “Whatever you want, Tones.”

______________

If the first was a joke, the second is just the repeat performance. Between Rhodey’s basic training and Tony’s recent and sudden rise to CEO, it’s been almost three months since the last time they’ve seen each other. Basic has him questioning everything and feeling like a bit of failure. He should have been able to handle it better. The homesickness, the pressure, the constant grind of work. It’s been the dream for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he has now. 

“Maybe I should quit.”

Tony snorts inelegantly, “Pretty sure that’s called deserting and it’s a crime.”

“So I’ll go on the run,” Rhodey argues, like it’s a perfectly reasonable response. “I’ll move to Tahiti or Fiji or one of those other islands. Wait, you have a private island, right? I could go there, and if anyone comes for me, I’ll just take a rowboat out to sea, and they won’t have any jurisdiction on the water to arrest me. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Right? It’s -”

Tony’s lips are a little sticky from the beer he’s been drinking, and his hands are warm where they cup Rhodey’s cheeks. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or why, and at first he can’t think enough to react. When he can think again he can’t decide whether to push him off or kiss him back, and he still hasn’t reached a conclusion when Tony pulls away. He doesn’t know if it lasted two seconds or two minutes, and it’s confusing to realize that he isn’t sure which he would prefer. 

“Wow, that is effective,” Tony grins. “Thought maybe it was just me it works on, but I should try that on board members sometime if it’s that good.”

Rhodey gapes at him when he connects the pieces. “Seriously, Tony? That happened two years ago, and I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”

"No, you were spiralling and now you’re not," Tony says simply. "Situation resolved by not talking about it."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is. How do you think most fires get put out? By putting a lid on them until they die."

"Alright, ignoring that that's not even true, what the hell does it even mean?" 

"It's very true, and what it means is that I have put a lid on this irrational fire, so it doesn't have the chance to spread and ignite the rest of your life. Containment, honeybear. It's about containment."

"That's a terrible analogy," Rhodey says, and Tony tosses his hands in the air. 

"What do you want from me on the spot?" 

They spend most of the night trying to come up with something better, laughing and drinking the rest of the beer in Tony's fridge, until Rhodey forgets that he was ever stressed in the first place.

______________

Their third kiss is an accident. It happens somewhere in between Rhodey deciding that he hates Tony's new boyfriend and him realizing exactly why that is. 

He comes back from six months overseas, and it's a few days ahead of what he was expecting. He told Tony Thursday, but his plane touches down in California on Tuesday morning, and he gives the taxi driver Tony's address without a second thought. Tony likes surprises, and he has no reason to think this might be a bad one. 

He uses his key to let himself in, fully knowing that Tony won't be awake yet to answer the door. The first traces of sun are just starting to filter in through the windows, and Rhodey sets his duffle bag down near the door before moving into the kitchen. Tony's refrigerator is nearly barren, but there are a few eggs and a green pepper that would be rotten by tomorrow that he can make due with. He finds an onion, too, and falls into a rhythm while dicing vegetables. 

It's this kind of thing that he misses when he's away. He misses having a kitchen and making what he wants in it, even if this isn't his kitchen or his first choice of food. But he misses the simplicity of it all. Life on the base seems alternate between too fast and too slow, but this is all his own pace. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs a little after the eggs hit the pan, and he glances over his shoulder to watch Tony shuffle into the room while rubbing his tired eyes. If he had stayed turned around a little longer, their third kiss wouldn't have happened at all. By the time Tony opens his eyes, Rhodey's back is to him again. 

Instead of instantly reacting, Tony slowly wanders over and puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. The words are mumbled when he says, "You're up way too early," and Rhodey doesn't have time to process how strange the sentence is, because he's being kissed the second his head turns. Not the shut up kind of kiss or even that sort of friendly peck he's seen people do sometimes. It's the kind where Tony's tongue is slipping between his lips, and his hand is wandering lower. The kind that friends don't share, but lovers definitely do. 

Rhodey falls into it without question. 

The spatula clatters to the floor from his hand, and Tony laughs into the kiss before pulling back. There's a grin and a joke on his lips that's quickly replaced by dawning horror. 

"Rhodey?" Tony squeaks out. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and through it Rhodey hears, "Oh, shit." He looks down at the complete lack of space between their bodies, dropping the hand to raise them both in front of himself like a defense as he backs away a couple of steps. "Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought - you weren't supposed to be here yet. Thursday. That's - you said Thursday. Didn't you?" 

It's like ice water with how quickly the warmth of that kiss leaves his body. 

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and plays at unaffected. "I did, yeah. Seems like you should attack an intruder instead of kissing them, though." 

Tony's cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red, and he runs a still shaky hand through his hair.

"I thought you were someone else," he sheepishly admits. "It's just that from behind you, um, well you look a lot like Ryan, and he wasn't in bed still when I got up, so I came down here, and, uh, I guess you know the rest of that story." 

Ryan, Rhodey's mind bitterly repeats. The guy Tony's spent the last three months talking about on the phone and in his letters. It's always about him in some way.  He told me the funniest story yesterday, Rhodey or Isn't he so romantic, platypus? But Tony seems happy, so he fakes a laugh at a story that definitely isn't funny retold and agrees that string quartets are romantic instead of horribly cliché. He helps him plan dates when it's Tony's turn, because apparently that's yet another adorable thing they do together. 

He just barely suppresses the sigh before saying, "Don't worry about it, Tones. It's all good."

Tony looks relieved, and after an awkward minute or two they fall back into their normal conversation like it never happened. They talk about the missions Rhodey has flown for and the designs Tony has been working on between bites of burned eggs and coffee. 

Neither of them ever mention that Rhodey kissed him back. 

______________

Tony and Rhodey are both drunk for the fourth. The music is loud at the club, and the air is a smoky haze. It's someone's birthday, he thinks, but he can't really remember anymore by the fifth shot of tequila. 

He leans back against the bar on his elbows, watching in drunken amusement while Tony tries to put the moves on someone to hold up his end of the bet. The guy looks like he isn’t quite sure what’s happening, and Rhodey laughs into the rim of his glass. All he needs is one kiss, and Rhodey will be out the contents of his wallet. He isn't even sure what those contents are, and Tony wouldn't let him check before the handshake. It could be anywhere from a nickel to fifty bucks, he figures, which is worth it to watch this complete trainwreck. 

It takes another ten minutes of flirting before Tony finally gives up and comes back over to the bar. 

“Loser,” Rhodey teases. “What happened to having ‘game so good a straight man would fall to his knees?’”

Tony flips him off and steals the glass from his hand. “He has a girlfriend, which is the only reason it didn’t happen.”

“He didn’t even realize that you were flirting with him, did he?” Rhodey laughs, and Tony pouts pitifully. 

“The no touching rule wasn’t fair.”

“A good bet doesn’t involve actual harassment,” Rhodey reasons, just like he did earlier in the night. “If you can’t get them to kiss you by flirting with just words, they wouldn’t want you touching them in the first place. It’s called consent.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I do not need to be taught about consent. I am the king of consent. Enthusiastic, resounding consent, even.” He pauses, and there’s a dangerous look in his eyes when he narrows them at Rhodey. “Okay, I know that this about to go against everything I just said, but it’s you, and we don’t have rules, right?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Tony leans in with enough time that if Rhodey really wanted to, he could pull away. He could put his hand over Tony’s mouth or step to the side or simply tell him no and Tony wouldn’t do it. 

But he doesn’t do any of those things. 

He lets Tony cup the back of his neck to tilt his head to the right angle, and he threads his hand into Tony’s hair in return. His lips taste like the vodka and cranberry juice from the stolen glass, until Rhodey has kissed him so thoroughly that he can’t taste it anymore. 

“There,” Tony says, grinning proudly like he’s just done something exceptionally smart. His breath is coming quickly, and Rhodey’s head is spinning with the thought that he’s the one that did that to him. “I got a straight man to kiss me. Pay up.”

Rhodey laughs, full-bodied with his head tilted back. “No, man. You definitely didn’t.”

Tony’s still a little too drunk to fully understand what he means by that, and he takes it as if Rhodey’s saying that he stole the kiss, rather than earned it. He spends most of the night after that trying to get him to kiss him again on his own accord, but Rhodey doesn’t want another one like that. He wants Tony’s soft-eyed gaze on him, and his body held tight in his arms. He wants to hear him say the same words he’s saying right now, but to have him actually mean it when he says the word please. Like he won’t be able to live for another second without Rhodey’s lips on his. 

He doesn’t want the joke anymore, but he knows he won’t ever get to have the real thing. 

______________

Rhodey is half asleep for kiss number five, and he isn’t even quite sure that it actually happens. He’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Germany, he thinks, and machines are beeping all around him. He can’t really remember what brought him here as he drifts in and out. There was some kind of fight - that much is obvious. He sees flashes of bullets in the sky, flames, and a rapidly plummeting altitude reading. Was it a mission gone wrong? An attack they weren’t expecting? One of the machines ticks a little faster when he tries to clear his head enough to think about it, and then darkness takes over again. 

When he partially wakes the next time, there’s something warm and solid in his hand. It shifts a little, brushing lightly in circles over his skin, and it takes him a longer amount of time than it should to realize that it’s another hand. But when he does, he knows without a doubt who it belongs to, and the thought sends him back into sleep with a warm feeling in his chest. 

He finds out later that he was unconscious for three days, and Tony hardly leaves his side for a minute of it. Rhodey doesn’t want to say how that makes him feel, so he falls back on what he does know how to say. 

“You should really at least go back to the hotel to take a shower. You’re starting to smell, man,” he says after the doctor leaves the room. 

Tony gives him a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the oily texture. "Maybe in a little bit. You just woke up."

Rhodey shifts against the pillows, tilting his head to get a good look at him. His clothes might be the same ones he showed up here in, all wrinkled with a coffee stain on one of his sleeves. The circles under his eyes are darker than he's ever quite seen them before, and he looks too pale. 

Tony isn't supposed to look like that. 

He's supposed to be sunlight embodied, all tanned skin and bright eyes and fluid motion. But this Tony is slumped over in his chair, small and fragile looking like the wrong word could destroy him completely. This Tony offers him a brave face and a delicate smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and Rhodey can't stand it. Can't stand that it's his own fault he looks like that. 

Stretching his arm out, he turns over his hand to open his palm. The movement tugs at his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth to hide the pain and it's worth it to have Tony's hand back in his where it belongs. He squeezes gently, and Tony squeezes back. 

"You almost died," Tony whispers. "You're not allowed to die."

"I won't do it again," Rhodey says, even though they both know he can't make that promise. 

Tony nods, and for now that can be enough. He switches the topic to something else so they don't have to talk about it anymore. So Tony doesn't have to say what the last three days felt like, and Rhodey doesn't have to admit that his last thought before the plane went down was regret that he'd never get to have this again. 

Tony makes him laugh until his battered ribs are aching with it, until they've talked about everything and nothing and sleep is pulling at Rhodey again. It's hard to keep his eyes open, and he fights it until he can't any longer. 

A hand runs over his hair, and down the side of his face to linger on his cheek. Rhodey leans into the touch with closed eyes as Tony murmurs, "I'll come back tomorrow. Don't you dare do anything stupid like dying while I'm gone."

He feels the warmth of Tony's breath on his skin the moment before Tony kisses him. It's a barely there, wisp of a thing, right on the corner of his mouth. There one instant, then gone the next. It's the last thing he feels before slipping into sleep again. 

______________

“I’m so old,” Tony groans, flopping down on the beach chair next to Rhodey’s. “Ancient. Decrepit. On death’s door.”

“You’re thirty,” Rhodey says, and he laughs at the pout on Tony’s face. “I’m a year older than you. What does that make me then?”

“A senior citizen, just like me.”

Rhodey lifts his beer from where the bottle was balancing in the sand and clinks it with the bottle in Tony’s hand. “Welcome to the club then. We’re happy to have you.”

Tony kicks off his shoes and tucks his feet under his thighs as he settles back in the chair. It’s quiet out here on the beach, away from the crowds and noise from the party. The crashing of the waves and the distant thrum of music are the only sounds, and they watch the water in the still of the night for a while. 

“Don’t you want to get back to the party?” Rhodey asks softly, unwilling to break their bubble of peace. “It’s for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “I like it better out here.”

“Want me to kick everyone out for you?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the house, filled to the brim and lights flashing from every window. He leans over the inch between their chairs and rests his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “No, they can have their fun in there, and I can have mine here.”

Rhodey cards his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling warm despite the cool breeze. “This is fun for you, huh? Sitting in silence?”

“It’s always good with you,” Tony murmurs, so quiet that Rhodey almost loses it to the ocean. He’ll always be thankful that he didn’t. 

He lets his hand go lower, slipping from his hair to run his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and it would be so easy, he thinks, to kiss him right now. To tilt Tony’s chin up and turn his head to the side just a little. To brush their lips together, slowly at first, then steadily growing more desperate as he gives in to everything he’s wanted for so long. He thinks of the way Tony would sound, if he would sigh or moan or whimper under his mouth. Tony would be sticky sweet from the buttercream on the cupcakes from earlier, and Rhodey would taste sugar on his tongue. 

“Rhodey,” Tony whispers, looking up at him. The moon is reflected in the deep brown of his eyes, and Rhodey wants to keep this image of him in him in his mind forever. “Can I tell you what I wished for?”

“Won’t come true if you do,” Rhodey whispers back. 

“I think it’s the only way it might,” Tony answers, and he seems even closer than he was before. 

“What did you wish for?”

Tony’s cheeks are flushed, and Rhodey thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose his nerve to say whatever it is. He’s ready for the joke instead, but it never comes. 

“For you to kiss me,” Tony says with an unsteady breath. “For it to mean something when you do.”

Rhodey slides his hand a little higher, and he strokes across Tony’s cheekbone. He doesn’t miss the way that Tony’s eyes flicker down to his lips. “And what do you want it to mean?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” Rhodey repeats, and Tony smiles, soft and unsure. “I think I can manage that.”

______________

Years later, Tony still likes to tease Rhodey about their first kiss, except now it's become their thing. The interrupted sentences sometimes get finished after and sometimes don't because kissing Tony is more important than whatever it was that he had to say in the first place. 

He loses count of what number they’re on. One thousand or one million, it could never be enough. They have all kinds of kisses now. Early morning, sleep-hazed kisses, and quick, little pecks on the way out the door. Good night kisses that turn passionate and desperate as often as they stay innocent and sweet. Reluctant ones when Tony is mad at him for something silly, lingering ones in apology. 

Each one still means everything.

[skzshortcake]

hiii this is a bit of a random request. i’m sorry if it’s bothersome! u can literally ignore it if you want. it’s just,,, i’ve had worst two weeks and my friends are all busy and i just,,, am constantly overworked and stressed bcs of uni (final year of uni fucking sucks) which idk i usually can handle but this whole week has been a disaster. i had 5 meetings. and i missed 2 of them, 2 assignments, 3 presentations and lectures. and on top of that i had to write an article for a magazine. there was just,,, so much due in a week and i got overwhelmed and kinda just,,, shut down. and to top it off, this morning i slipped in the shower (literally full on split on the floor) and my thighs hurt and i can’t walk or even sit without being in pain. and i can’t remember the last time i slept. i think it was two days ago. idk. i still have SO MUCH to do so i can’t sleep yet and i’m super stressed. oh gosh i’m sorry i’m rambling.

to get the point, i was hoping u could write a fluff piece with chan where the reader is stressed af like i am?? i usually read these to escape my head for a bit cause i’m a sucker for cute romance stories :’) it’d help a lottttt. but it’s okay if you can’t! 🥺 i’m sorry for bothering~

of course!! this might seem rushed so i’m sorry if it comes off like that- but i really hope it helps you!! i basically wrote chan into my interpretation of your situation, i hope that’s ok!! stay safe and take care bby! i’m always here if you (or anyone) needs to rant.

comforting surprises  -  bang chan

member: chan

genre: comfort/angst

warnings: anxiety and an overwhelming time, crying, not proofread

note: requests are still open, but it will take me a bit to get to them. i’m doing my best i promise but it’s kinda hard to write happy things for me right now. 

-

ring... ring... ring...

chan hoped you would answer his call. he texted you earlier in the week and didn’t get a response, so he knew something must have been up. he anxiously rocked back and forth in the office chair he was sitting in, staring at the wall of his office while he waited for an answer.

a couple more rings in, he was about to hang up, but thankfully, you answered.

he heard you try and calm your breathing through the phone “hey.” you managed to say.

“prince(ss)? what’s wrong?” he immediately sat up, alert.

“it’s nothing,” you cry “i just-i just fell this morning and i’m a little busy.”

“ok, ok, can you tell me what’s going on? i’m on my way right now i’m not sure how long i’ll be.” he stood up and saved his work on the computer, hurrying to pack what was necessary in his black backpack to rush out the door.

“i-i,” you broke down in tears again “i have so much to do and i haven’t slept in days. i’m so behind on work it’s making me sick to my stomach...”

“ok, ok, i’m going to help you... can you breathe for me, baby? here, breathe in on the count of one and out on five, ok? i’ll count to eight for you.” 

he started counting through the phone for you, knowing he probably looked crazy as he loudly breathed and counted on a phone call while speed-walking through the jyp building, but he couldn’t care less.

you were doing your best, truly, and he could tell, but you still couldn’t manage to take deep enough breaths to calm down.

“it’s ok, you’re doing so well for me, y/n... i’m on my way, i’ll be twenty minutes?” he says, waiting for your “ok” before helping you breathe again.

chan managed to get you to calm down a bit by the time he walked out of the building. he suggested that you go get a glass of water and sit down somewhere and wait until he got home. 

“i’m ok, i’m ok now.” you sniffle, taking another sip of water and breathing heavily into the cup while you drank. “you travel safely please.” you told him.

“don’t worry, i will. are you going to be ok if i hang up now? i’ll be home soon, prince(ss).”

“mhmm.”

“ok, i’ll be fifteen minutes now. go sit down and rest please.”

he said goodbye and hung up, feeling even more worried for you. chan couldn’t help it, you’re his baby and he feels a responsibility to make sure you’re ok. he didn’t care if he had work to do or if he was busy, you were always his first priority.

he picked up some things for you from the downtown, practically checking his phone every thirty seconds to double check you hadn’t texted him again. he left just as soon as he arrived to make sure he wouldn’t make you wait any longer.

chan nearly dropped his keys as he fumbled with the door. he just wanted to see you as soon as possible.

“y/n?”

“hm?” your teary voice answered from the living room. you chose to sit down on the plush couch, only issue is you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back up.

“hey, i’m here now.” he set his bags down next to him while he sat down next to you. “can i hold you?” 

you just nodded, feeling sobs build in your throat again. but you didn’t cry, you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.

chan pulled you into a hug, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to make your work easier. “i’ve got you. it’s going to be ok.”

he let you stay there for as long as you needed. once you looked up at him with a defeated expression, he knew that it really must have been a difficult time.

“i’m so stuck.” 

“honey, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry that things have been difficult, i’ll help you as much as you need, ok? we will figure it out, together. i promise.” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead “i have something for you, baby.” 

he leaned down and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and your favorite restaurant’s takeout. chan handed you the bouquet, and you noticed how he bought the flowers in your favorite color and even had the florist wrap them it thin decorative paper with a bow wrapped around it, also in your favorite color. he always excelled at attention to detail.

you felt the tears build again. “i love you so much. thank you.” you looked down to hide your crying from him. you felt so touched that he went to the extent to rush out and get your favorite food and flowers on a whim when he was in the middle of working. 

chan truly had a heart of gold.

“of course, i love you so much too, prince(ss).” he put a hand on your cheek, not forcing you to look him in the eye if you felt overwhelmed, but letting you know he was there. “now, how about we eat some good food and get some good rest, and i will help you with your projects in the morning. it’s the weekend after all, you deserve to rest tonight. i’ll help you get to sleep.” he gave you another kiss and stood up to get some plates and utensils.

when he came back and served up your food, he turned on the tv and put on a show in the background. chan also didn’t forget to prop up your legs and get you an ice pack for your injuries.

“you will not believe what jeongin did today... he lost a bet and had to make breakfast this morning, and you can imagine how that turned out. we even gave him thorough instructions but he still managed to forget some of the ingredients and had to have help from the manager.”

chan joked with you and cheered you up, like he always did. you were pretty sure he was some sort of guardian angel for you, because he always showed you unconditional love and support, even when he was busy.

he was forever grateful for you and you were forever grateful for him.

[justsasuke]

Here’s the thing about Kakashi. He’s quite possibly Konoha’s worst (yes, you read that right) worst Sensei. Mostly due to the fact that he’s so caught up in his guilt and past that he literally had nothing to give his students.

I’m not saying this to hate on Kakashi, he’s his own person with very valid struggles and I don’t want to slam him bc of his life experiences, but for the purpose of this here writing I’m going to ignore Kakashi’s right to be stuck in the past and talk about why he isn’t qualified to do the job the 3rd Hokage assigned him. Specifically in relation to Sasuke (bc let’s be real, after shippuden started was Kakashi really Naruto and Sakura’s sensei anymore? also this blog is about Sasuke so if you’re expecting any other type of content IDK how to help you)

Let me start by saying Kakashi had a lot of potential to help Sasuke out; they come from somewhat similar backgrounds - prominent families in the village that at some point were no longer favorable to the village, and then losing said families.  Both were child prodigies and (I assume) had a lot of external pressure to live up to and not enough time to work through their own feelings...

you’d think with everything they had in common Kakashi could have used his experiences to relate to Sasuke and then guide him down a much healthier path--but instead he only made things worse.

and here’s where we get into the main meat of this rant and my list of reasons why Kakashi was a horrible sensei (grab some popcorn bc I’m about to go off)

1) Kakashi identifies Sasuke’s issues early...and then does nothing. without a doubt, Kakashi knew who Sasuke was.  He knew what had happened to the Uchiha clan, and he could probably imagine what kind of pain Sasuke was going through and yet when Sasuke very openly admits that he doesn’t have any purpose for his future except to avenge his clan Kakashi simply makes a mental note that it was ‘just as he thought’

2) Kakashi doesn’t really say anything nice... your mileage may vary with this one, and of course it’s a matter of personal taste, but Kakashi doesn’t say anything nice about Sasuke.  Not to his face anyway.  and it’s not just that he isn’t nice, he taunts him too. To a regular person this may not cause much damage, but we have to look at the fact that Sasuke has grown up alone and un-nurtured for the last 5 years and that the last person who was important in his literally told him that he was worthless and unfit for anything (hello root cause of Sasuke’s insecurity) Kakashi’s words then become really destructive and damaging to any chance he had of creating a safe space for Sasuke to open up and feel looked after/get the help he needed

3) Kakashi didn’t get it This happens during the infamous treetop chat, where he literally ties Sasuke to the tree so he can say what he wants to say. (red flag right there bc honestly what is with this village and constantly trying to force Sasuke to do what they want him to do without actually taking the time to listen to him or address his problems directly.  Seriously.  Also why are you waiting until just now to reach out to him when you’ve known he’s been struggling since day one.  see #1 on this rant)

I hate this scene because it’s a really good moment outside of the context of, well, Sasuke and all that he is and has been through. It was meant to be a call to reality scene where Kakashi helps Sasuke see that he’s not alone in his suffering, that he has friends who care about him, that leaving the village isn’t going to help him, and his life situation isn’t actually all that bad. (can you spot the sarcasm?)

Spoiler alert: this scene is another example of people who thought they understood Sasuke and knew how to help, which is not the same as actually understanding him and knowing how to help. See also Naruto, Sakura, and Gaara to name the most prominent other ones.

4) “sure, but everyone I ever loved is already dead... :)” Ok listen.  I get where Kakashi is coming from, I really do. but this line.  I hate it. Again, it’s a great line out of context of everything Sasuke is dealing with. And yeah, I can see why Kakashi thought it might help. But just to recap, Sasuke’s entire clan, his immediate family, probably the bulk of his friends because Bigotry™, his extended family, everything he’s known and loved and held dear, his security, the family culture he grew up with, any promise of a bright future etc. was taken away from him by his older brother whom he loved more than anything in one night.  He literally lost everything that would help him gain any sort of bearing of identity and sense of worth, not to mention anyone to love him, in one night.  and it was taken by the person he loved most, someone he trusted and looked up to and believed in.  And then that person told him he was completely worthless. Kakashi on the other hand lost his best friend during a ninja mission (a devastating loss but common within the context of everyone being ninja and it being wartime), and lost his father and other friend/crush? to suicide. All very real pains, but different than Sasuke’s.  

Sasuke’s lash out of “what if I killed everyone you ever cared about” was a plea for someone to understand the kind of agony he was carrying everyday, and Kakashi--who honestly out of everyone else should have sensed a need to sit and listen--ignored it by taking the opportunity to invalidate Sasuke’s very specific pain.

5) Kakashi kind of ....gave up? At some point it seems like Kakashi just gave up trying to help Sasuke and decided that it was unavoidable and inevitable that Sasuke was going to “go bad” and leave the village. I mean, he noticed it on day one, right? (srry, I’m salty about that one if you couldn’t tell).

6) Except he didn’t At some point he decides that as Sasuke’s sensei he should be the one to take responsibility for Sasuke going “bad” and kill him. Forget talking to him, forget apologizing for not taking the time to talk to him earlier, he decided that he’s going to fight Sasuke and “take care of the problem once and for all”.

I could go on, but at this point I think I should stop and take a really, really long walk. In summary:  While you’d expect Kakashi to have seen and treated Sasuke differently he didn’t, and while he was set up to be the perfect mentor character to Sasuke (Naruto got Jiraiya so you’d think Kakashi would’ve stepped in to help Sasuke more) he really fell flat. Overall as a sensei I think he was too bogged down with his own pain and survivor’s guilt to really be present, and maybe he was too scared to help Sasuke grow because he thought if he fed the fire it would only get worse. In any case, other than teaching Sasuke chidori, Kakashi was really detached from Sasuke’s struggles except when he thought it had gone too far.  And by then it was too late to do any good. I think if he had stepped in a little more, listened a little more, helped Sasuke channel his feelings productively, maybe even helped Sasuke work through said feelings, things could’ve been great. He could’ve been the Iruka to Sasuke’s Naruto, you know?   but he wasn’t.

[dirtyhands]

well i didn't have time. i ran out of time. and then i talked to my grandaddy. for the first time in like even longer than my grandmother. he said he loved me and missed me and hopes we can stay in touch, and maybe like just maybe everything would have been maybe fine if i just tried harder like my grandma is gone and i can never try and now i'll never know and there's literally nothing i can do about just that. i should probably call my dad. i've been quiet and nervous still, and also just overwhelmed. i want to be/want to feel able to connect to people again.

but my sweet friend sent me the only platitude i need, because sorry for my loss does not encompass any of this, and it's "may you know no more sorrow." and it's just what i needed to hear.

and i managed to finish my early semester work (late) and going to take a mental break and my advisor is Well Aware cos i am also moving in like..basically a week. like. a big move. and i just posted a question to reddit bc i turned down a job on unemployment due to relocating suddenly (and very surprisingly bc i gave the heck up but synchronicity or something) and then reddit almost immediately went down and like..the advice i got was that well i sure hope you don't have to owe it all fucking back because turning a job down on uc is Bad. but also there are commute parameters and like fuck. i'm fine without the money i guess because i saved for this move but it's gonna be REAL tight w/o and i sure as shit can't pay it back from march and like definitely not earlier and fuck i would have never applied to this dang job if i knew what was going to happen AND i never thought i'd actually hear back from this job except to get turned down in a month from now (because i have applied to this same job like 4 times pre pandemic and also DURING so like..surprise fuck me over w it. and i actually wanted it if i had to stay but I DONT HAVE TO STAY and I wont) i should feel lucky. i see my place this weekend and i know i'm gonna have a wtf am i doing moment because it's a big change. but i think i need it. i think. my state has gotten dangerously close to NOT having a taxpayer so fuck them. i am just so Stressed and Sad. and quite honestly I just want it to be over and back in philly and i can take one step forward and like five steps back cos i know i can catch up but like..fuck. i sure hope i'm doing the right thing. it does feel right but it also feels incredibly incredibly hard. i haven't been eating and i am an absolute mess on the inside but i guess i seem alright on the outside.

also, in other news, i don't really like drinking and can totally live without my old habits and it doesn't even feel like i have to try anymore so that's cool.

also sorry for the big rant. i am SO STRESSED. and i am ready to go. i want to say bye but shit.just.keeps.happening. i can't wait to take a social media detox and just like..be on a porch with a friend. safely. i dunno, like maybe even get a hug. i can't wait to never cry in this apartment ever again. it's been so healing but so so hard. and i'm ready to deal with new things. handle new hurts, that hopefully don't hurt so damn much. maybe i won't hurt others so much because of my hurts. i'm scared about that. i think i trust myself, now, finally, again. but i know i won't know for sure. but at least it aint all fucking compounded. have stitches where there will be scars and maybe theyll ache but i truly believe they will never reopen again.

[willowistic22]

Hey :)

For your post concerning Ikeshot - would you maybe consider writing an Ikeshot Soulmate AU during the canon era?

Thanks in advance

left this in my drafts for the whole month bcs i was doing no content november which was definitely not used as an excuse of me not wanting to fight off my writers block heheheheheheheh spoiler alert : it was. but i got around to write this one so i hope it suffice! i mean i hope so bcs it ended up being 2.5k words long lol! 

So pls enjoy my canon era ikeshot soulmate au! the concept is where soulmate marks are in the form of the first things your soulmate says to you when you guys meet. also ik this will kinda flop since it’s a rarepair but pls do your best to not let it flop :) 

Ike doesn’t like the thought of soulmates. Not one bit. Well, at first he liked the idea of having someone out there waiting for him. He doesn’t need a mark of any kind to tell him that. He knows it on his own terms. But there was a little bit of excitement that exploded in his stomach when his soulmate mark appeared on his forearm. And it was… weird to say the least. 

He got his mark a year earlier than his twin brother, right on their 13th birthday. A delicate black writing engraved in the skin of his forearm. The soulmate mark stories he has ever heard were about people with sweet sayings engraved in their skin. It was all romantic, innocent, and soft spoken words tread lightly by the lips of their lover to be. But Ike’s? It was downright strange. None of those sappy and sweet stuff people say when the subject is about soulmates. Which is why Ike never bothered showing it off. He has heard enough jokes from Mike about that text. 

And here’s the kicker for his situation: despite getting his soulmate mark a year earlier, Mike was somehow granted the gift of getting a sweet soulmate line and meeting his soulmate first! That really pissed Ike off. 

He’s left with his thoughts on that subject this evening, carefully holding up his forearm while he lies on the top bunk he and his brother call their own. The words on his forearm echoes inside of his brain as he strokes the ink on his skin, blocking out the loud Lower Manhattan lodging house. He’s bound to meet his soulmate eventually. He’s sixteen for crying out loud! Mike met his when they were fifteen. So this mysterious soulmate of his has to turn up any time now. They have to. Ike doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself entertained with stringless flings and flirtings with random guys in secret. 

Ike sighs desperately, dropping both his arms above his head and onto his thin pillow. He wished he was tired enough to go to sleep already since he doesn’t have anything to do before the lights go out in the lodge. He peaks down towards the lower bunk. Ike sees his brother fast asleep, cuddled into his lover’s embrace. Two chests, rising and falling at their own different slow pace. 

It’s not that Ike ever had a problem with Mike’s soulmate, the only problem is that Ike hasn’t met his and constantly feels lonely with the presence of the couple. Ike didn’t believe his brother when he said his soulmate turned out to be Jo Jo. Not only is Jo Jo practically a total opposite of Mike, Jo Jo is also out of his league. There’s no way a kind hearted, properly brought up, bright smiled boy would end up with a scruffy idiot like his brother. But the more time he spends with the two, the more he sees how compatible they are with each other. 

Ike is happy that they found someone to make each other happy, even in their sleep. He’s just sad for himself that he hasn’t found the one for him yet. Third wheeling is the worst thing Ike has ever discovered in his life. 

He sits back up properly, letting both legs dangle freely down the bunk. Ike puts on his newsie cap and his vest that was left hanging on the bedpost before jumping down the bunk. 

Unfortunately he wasn’t being careful and accidentally woke someone below him from the loud thud his feet made when it came in contact with the old wooden floor of the lodge. 

“Where are you… going?” a voice groaned.

Ike turns his head towards the lower bunk to see Mike lifting his head up slightly from where it was resting, rubbing his eyes a little bit to enhance his vision. He’d sit up straight, but one of his hands is strapped down to the mattress by a certain head full of brown curls. 

“Not tired yet. Think I’ll get myself busy” Ike replied. Before turning back to his original direction, he catches his brother’s eyes before he lets himself fall back asleep again, “Got a pack?” 

Mike snorts to himself with an eye roll, but it ends with a low chuckle. He gestures his head towards his vest left hanging up high on the bedpost, “Check my vest. I’se think there’s still half in there” 

Untangling the vest from itself, Ike sees one of its pockets forming a rectangular shape through the fabric. He slips his hand in it and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. His hand doesn’t feel the usual light weight of the tiny box he usually feels after getting himself a fresh pack. This one feels so much lighter, like there’s a lot of room in it. But Ike could still feel a few stems moving inside. 

“Don’t finish the whole thing” Mike added. 

Ike simply smirks down at him, turning around with the pack in hand. He calls out, “No promises!” 

“Pay me back if you do finish it!” 

“Also no promises!” 

“Little shitter” 

Ike turns his head around, and an offended look on his face as the twins’ old inside joke has resurfaced from the past. In the calmest way possible, yet still obviously annoyed, Ike voices out, “Fuck off, alright?” 

“No promises!” 

Mike laughs at his brother’s obvious annoyance. At the same time, Jo Jo starts to stir in his sleep. He stops laughing, directing his full focus on the boy shifting in his arms. Jo Jo groans as he flips to face away from Mike, letting out a long and peaceful sigh once he gets comfortable. 

Ike watches as his brother lays back down, holding Jo Jo a little tighter than before. The couple is enveloped back by their slumber just like before.��

There’s that jealousy resurfacing in Ike’s heart as his eyes linger at the sight of the lower bunk. But despite it, he is actually happy to see Mike like this. Being happy with his soulmate doing whatever. It’s a different kind of happy. It’s the kind that Ike longs for. 

He pushes that thought away for a while, walking through the loud lodging house. Some newsies went to sleep earlier, somehow being able to ignore all the commotion caused by their friends. Some are also just hanging out with others while they wait for the lights to go out. 

Ike chooses to be alone this evening. Accompanied by a cigarette or two, and maybe his own thoughts he’d like to sort out. He’d walk out the front door downstairs to smoke in an alleyway, but he knows the downstairs are currently occupied. Jack had warned everyone to avoid going downstairs because the borough leaders are having a little meeting. 

So Ike decides on the fire escape, since it already leads directly to the alleyway. Ike slips out the window, instantly noticing the lovely evening air. His only view is a dull brick wall with trash scattered around the ground, but he doesn’t really mind as the street ambience makes him feel less lonely. 

He notes the fire escape being a little wet, since it previously did rain a bit. He nearly slipped when he first stepped on the metal bars, but was able to balance himself pretty quickly. 

But to no avail, his feet clumsily slips away from their grip on the fire escape. It sends him falling down with a loud yelp, passing through the little gap in the fencing reserved for the ladder and onto the concrete floor in the dirty alleyway. 

Ike was disoriented when he rose back up from his fall. One hand on the ground to help support his back as he recovers from the impact, and the other rubbing the pain on his head away. He realized the pack of cigarettes is long gone. What he doesn’t realize is why the fall isn’t as painful as he thought it would be. 

He glances over to his legs, which he realized just now that it was tangled with something else. Someone else. They were groaning in pain as they rose back up. He catches a glimpse of the face once it was finally lifted off the ground, smudge by a little bit of mud. 

Oh shit.

Ike fell on another boy who obviously looks like he’s twice his own size. Not that he thinks he can’t take him on in a fight if he asks for one, but right now he’s too disoriented to even figure out how to punch straight. He quickly gets up on his feet, giving the stranger some space so he can recollect himself. 

“Oh look, the universe has thrown me a little shitter from the sky to ruin the rest of my already shitty day! Is there anything you can possibly do to magically make it better?!”

The words were uttered as the stranger got back up on his feet, revealing himself to be a tall and muscled figure. The mud also got on a little strand of his dark brown hair and his eyes were squinted with fury. But Ike wasn’t focused on any physical features this stranger has. He’s more focused with the words that he uttered. Words that Ike knows by heart by now. 

“What?” The stranger growled, deep and raspy. He realized the boy was astonished by something, but was certain it isn’t in any form of fear. 

“Do you have any idea how much shit I get with that written on my hand?! It made me look like I’m a fuckin’ dumbass my whole life!” Ike started his little rant, a little bit of rage building up from the pits of his stomach, “Oh, but of course I’se stuck with a huge asshole that doesn’t know how to be a decent human being and give a guy a break!” 

The stranger stays completely still, lips slightly parted. 

“How do you think I feel with that?” 

He shows his soulmate mark on his right forearm to Ike. A smaller font size and a longer paragraph written on his skin. Ike almost wanted to laugh. 

“Hey!” 

The two boys turn their attention towards the sound. Just outside the alleyway, right on the sidewalk where the rest of the world is, three tall men stood. There isn’t enough light for either boys to identify who they are, but given from the vague shadow they can sense trouble. 

As the three men take a few steps closer, letting a little lamp stuck to the wall illuminate their figures, they reveal themselves as the bulls. 

The boys activated their flight instinct, running towards the other end of the alleyway. The bulls chased after them while telling them to stop. Ike, being the smaller one, runs ahead and leads the chase. Hopping from one sidewalk to the other, crossing the roads without looking. 

Jacobi’s deli came into view in the corner of the block, despite being unlit. Ike kept running towards that corner and took a sharp turn. He makes another sharp turn towards an alley, just next to the deli. He hides in a little corner the deli has created. He has gotten away from so many troubles by hiding in this ‘wall bump’ because people miss it easily. 

He was surprised to see a large figure stopping right next to where Ike was hiding, huffing out heavy breaths of exhaustion. Ike said nothing at first, thinking it’s one of the bulls. He simply watches the figure hunching over their knees, trying to recollect themselves from the chase. 

But after a few seconds, he realizes it was the same boy he just met at the alleyway. His soulmate. To that, he widens his eyes and gasps under his breath. 

Oh crap, if he keeps on standin’ there we’ll get caught! 

“Hey!” Ike whisper shouted. 

The boy was still disoriented from all that running, but he was still able to pick up the voice. 

He saw Ike hiding in the corner, but didn’t think much of it. To that, the smaller boy just rolled his eyes and grabbed him by his suspenders to pull him to the little corner to hide together. 

Ike peaked behind the little wall hiding them to see if the bulls that were chasing them had passed. Just as he suspected, they were clueless as to where they could be. The bulls went past the alleyway. Until Ike was sure that they’re gone, he lets out a relieved sigh and turns back to where he is.

He was surprised to be met by a chest, but soon remembered that he had another boy hiding with him. A very tall one. 

Ike looks up to his face. The details are much clearer now. Brown locks, strong jawline, brown eyes, ivory tinted face with a few smudges of ash and dirt. The face sculptured... so perfectly. 

Ike only realized this now. Staring up at it, taking in every detail before him. Cheeks a little heated up when his head realizes how close they’re being. Chest to chest and Ike is up against a wall. 

And the other boy… he stared back. Just as frozen and shocked as he is. 

“I-I didn’t catch your name earlier” Ike mustered up the last bit of concentration to get that out. 

“My friends call me Hotshot” 

“Hotshot…” Ike repeated, nodding along without getting his eyes off of him. 

“But… you can call me Tyler. Y-y’know if you… wanna use my real name” Hotshot said with a little awkward cough at the end. 

“Oh…”

Ike has no idea what’s happening right now. All he knows is there’s a cute guy right in front of his nose, who is his so called soulmate. They’re hiding in an alleyway, and neither seems to want to move away. They were both caught off guard by the beauty their eyes are being presented with in front of them. 

“I-I’m Ike, by the way…” Ike added on, realizing he hasn’t said his name yet, “It’s short for Isaac. Y’know, ‘cause my twin brother calls himself Mike and we wanted to-- y’know what? That’s too long to get into…” 

The two share a heartfelt laughter. Their hearts pumping faster than before, the other being able to feel it right through their chest. 

“So uhh… Ike…” Hotshot started, still staring down at the smaller boy, “About what I said earlier…” 

Ike started to laugh, remembering what he meant. 

“I’s want to apologize… is all” 

“Y-yeah, the same goes for me!” Ike added, “Well, I don’t know if we should even apologize. We were supposed to say that to each other anyways!” 

Another heartfelt laughter, sounding softer than the first one. It somehow made the moment even more serious as it slowly died down. Their gaze hasn’t left the other’s. Nor, does it seem like they want to in the first place. 

“Ike, can I… try somethin’?” Hotshot suddenly asked. 

Ike simply nods, not having any clue as to what he meant. The message behind that was soon cleared the moment Hotshot softly crashed his lips against his, pushing his head backwards and gently pinning it to the wall behind him. Ike moves his hands up to pull him by his suspenders. Hotshot brushes his finger on his jaw, angling him up for a better kiss. Their lips moved in sync perfectly and it felt good. Just like how they would picture a first kiss shared by a soulmate. 

[this-is-my-main-i-follow-from]

I already wrote this post, but I’m coming backk up to the top to put a cut bc it’s p long.

my brother is singing falsettos out loud & I’ve already had a stressful day bc I’ve done nothing (lack of structure & lack of productivity gives me really bad anxiety) & he’s either singing out of key & out of time, or it just sounds really bad without the music. He’s the only one who can hear the music bc HeadPhones. & also the falsettos is probably really bad for my mom bc she’s mad that dad left her, esp bc the house is a mess & stressing her out & she needs to go grocery shopping & he used to do that “but now he doesn’t because he stopped loving [her]”, so my bro singing fucking falsettos is really bad. I can’t cook supper bc I don’t have a recipe & the stuff is still frozen & idk what kind of dough I should make & besides the kitchen is a mess & he won’t fucking clean it. I mean it’s also partially my fault bc I’m a lazy adhd mofo, but it’s his job today & my job to cook. I need to get into the kitchen & cook before mom & my OTHER brother get home from shopping but I can’t bc he’s just drawing & singing & the singing is so annoying- I was trying to listen to a thing but I couldn’t fricking hear it bc adhd auditory processing disorders, it didn’t have fucking subtitles or anything & it was not great audio quality & I couldn’t differentiate between the words he was singing, & I couldn’t hear the quiet parts when they overlapped with his singing. I wasn’t going to write all of this I was just going to say that his singing makes me want to cut myself, but apparently there’s a lot more to it. also I don’t want to end up cooking while mom is home bc I don’t have any drawings on my arm & mom is fucking nosy & wants to see my scars so I have to work extra hard at hiding them but even with ppl who arent nosy, like my little bro I don’t like them out, but the longer my older bro sits there fucking yelling out of key, the longer I’m delayed & I won’t be able to cook. By this point, I won’t even be able to cook the meal I was planning on, I have so much shit to do I’ve missed so much & I’m so behind, but I’m so incapable of doing anything like i can’t do chores bc I use the excuse I have homework but I never fucking do my homework so I’m also behind in school & even with the stuff I like like dnd & writing & violin I can’t do, & I skipped online kung fu & I’ve been slacking off under so many excuses but I’m just being lazy & anxious & I also gained so much weight & it makes my body feel so bad & i know this isn’t my body’s happy weight & being fat makes my boobs bigger & I’m fucking trans & I hate them I even tried cutting them off myself & ended up waiting 15 hours to go to the hospital so that I wouldn’t make mom suspicious (& they put me through triage really fast bc apparently I did a lot of dammage- I was planning on giving myself stitches, but my icepack melted & I couldn’t numb my body anymore so they’re lucky I even went to the hospital, it was bad bc I had to walk 20 minutes either way weighted down with a fucking toolbox & I waited outside in the cold bc my phone died & thus:) mom found out anyways so I lied to her about going to buy drugs bc obv /that’s/ a better idea than telling her I went to the hospital & SHUT UP UNNAMED OLDER BROTHER ok he’s between songs now. If I told mom I went to the hospital she would ask why & be like “y didn’t u tell me” & “r u cutting urself again” & like yeah bitch I have been for a while ik the social worker said I should tell you a codeword, but I don’t do that bc u blame yourself or cry or want to talk about & I yes I fucking cut myself what of it? Yeah I tried fucking removing my own left breast, bc u arent’ supportive of medical transitioning, at least not when they’re ur kids. Ur mad at dad bc he got a tattoo bc it’s  body modification & thus uncatholic, but u’ll support ur catholic university friends gettin gtheir eldest daughter a reduction bc her boobs are big & painful- bitch what’s so different about me? I went so far as to try giving myself a reduction, you say you’re concerned about me mutilating my body & making bad decisions, but, you know what? because of this I have legitimately mutilated my body, & made a dangerous & bad decision. isn’t autosurgery proof that I need top surgery bc it’s a danger to my life if I don’t get it? The government is able to pay for it I think & bc it’s a danger to my health (& i get pain & I can’t work out & I get back pain & my skin pulls & hurts & if I jump my tissues yank my skin & it hurts & it puts so much strain on my back, & binding gives me pain, so I need a reduction as much as your catholic university friends’ daughter does) I should be abe to qualify. Even if I don’t qualify yet & have to wait two years, at least that would be the start of two years now instead of in a long time, I mean, mum, you say you want me to talk about it & you’re afraid I’m rushing into it? guess what? They are too! the healthcare system will make me do a bunch of shit to qualify, & tbh, I think that they are better qualified to talk to me about surgery & what I really want than you.  Fucking finally, I hope my brother is done his play & finally shuts up. TA MA DE FUCK NO HE’S STARTING AGAIN CROWS DAMN IT CROWS CROWS CROWS & MAGGOTS I”m not even gonna be able to make anythiung for supper & i have no ideas besides the long one which I don’t have time for anymore. fine. whatever. I’ll go SH in my room. I won’t even work on fanfic bc I’m too fucking adhd & broken. I fucking hate it when ppl say “we;re all a bit adhd” like no bitch shut the fuck up, we all struggle with the things adhd ppl struggle with sometimes, but adhd is a neurological condition that makes those struggles so commonplace & intense that it affects our everyday lives. & no. adhd does not mean we’re more creative. Even if we do have more likeliihood of coming up with funky ideas, most of us struggle to articulate them or understand them, or we forget them as soon as they come. you’re not adhd bc you’re a little more creative, youre just an ableist asshole & fuck you. adhd isn’t creativity its’ a fucking disability. I’m directing this at those fucking parents who have the lovely nd daughter who gave me a hug, but you two are motherfuckers. Yeah I get thaat adhd, once you learn how to mannage it, can be useful, & I understand that part of the reason this disability is so hard is bc society isn’t designed for it (like a lefty using right hand scissors), but ot’s still fuxking REAL & if you can’t deal with it yet, it 100% is a disanbility. OK? Ok. I had smth I was going to say earlier, but I got distracted by smth else that made me mad, so I never got around to it. Youo know what I love? I fucking love how tumblr has next to no character limit so I can just type as much as I want. You know what I don’t like? I’ll probably get deactivated by some SJW maggot-eaten crow-fucker who thinks that my rant& mentioning my failed ed & my self harm (oh fuck shut up, my brother is chanting “dumb”) so anyways some fucking sjw fuck-hole will report this post & my blog & I’ll be deactivated for simply getting angry on tumblr. It’s fucking tumblr! You used to be able to say whatever you needed to say! But now, esp us ppl w EDs, have no safe place to talk about our issues (at least, not w/o fear of gettin gterminated for “encouraging” EDs, when we’re just trying to help ourselves). Anywasy, sorry for all the swears & go se, I swear when I’m mad. I’m gonna go do smth, idk what. Can’t be anything productive, Can’t even be unproductive stuff I like, like watching youtubem, or smth cathartic like playing fiddle. I might just go & bleed a bit & ignore everything for a while. I nkow that the world will still be stressful when I get back, & I’ll still have to cook, & I’ll still be behind in school, & mom will still be broken-hearted over dad, but I’m feeling calmer just thinking about it so that’s what I’ll do. 

[writefightandflightclub]

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies​

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of  the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

[fuck-customers]

TLDR: a couple of customers wasted about 2 hours of my time when I doubt they’ll be buying from us anyway. Oh and she get mad about something out of my control and even tells me she understands it’s out of my control but still decides to rant about it for 15 minutes.

I work at a flooring company. One of the busiest stores in the 500 stores in the country. So at any given point there’s over 5 customers in the store at a time. And some shit went down with my SM so he had to quit on the spot and abandon me leaving me by myself (other than the warehouse guy but he doesn’t work in the showroom or help out with customers.) . So there’s this couple I’m helping for about 2 hours. And I’d say the avg would be an hour to help a customer pick a floor, explain installation, and write up a quote for them. But anyway, these ppl decided they wanted an engineered bamboo and they said they wanted to float the floor. And I’m like ok that’s great. But then they started to look around the showroom. They come across a tile that they like. They say “is this a glue down” and I assume they mean will this adhere to the concrete which yeah...it will. I say “yes you’ll adhere it to the subfloor with mortar” so basically that’s saying it can’t be floated. And I mean...any TILE cannot be floated obviously. Because floating doesn’t include any adhesive or mortar. Anyway they decide they want to get a quote for the tile and the eng bamboo. So I write up a rough quote on install+materials. It comes out to over 14k. They’re like 😱. “Uhhh we wanted to stay under 10.5k” (and I’m like ok then why did you decide on a bamboo floor and decide to do stairs when I told you that’s gon be reallly expensive?) The cost of the essential items + install alone all equal out to 10k. So I explained that I doubted it’d be possible especially when they want all these extra items...anyway. And then it took me even longer to make this quote because I had to spend about 30 min doing research on how much mortar or grout they’ll need bc idk off the top of my head the amount a container of each will cover. Plus I was the ONLY one in the store so the phone was ringing every five seconds and I had to stop what I was doing to mute the phone. Anyway, I explain for the FOURTH time that one of the reasons why the install is so much is because installing tile is 3.25 per sqft. And then a light bulb goes off for them. “Ohhh so that’s not vinyl???!” For a second I had ascended my body and had a small conniption. Like I explained to them multiple times that the tile they like is ACTUAL TILE. And I explained to them earlier that the 2 shelves of displays on the other side of the showroom is our ONLY VINYL and that the tile they liked is definitely tile. So I basically wasted about half an hour doing all that research. And so I switch it over to vinyl. The vinyl materials+install turns out being 2k more than the tile somehow. And then I ask them if they’d like for us to deliver. And she’s like wait the install team doesn’t do it n I’m like no they only handle the install. They’re very busy ppl handling the other installs for the company. So we have another third party company deliver and they charge us and in turn we have to charge you. So she goes off on me and i get it. You’d think that a company who’s trying to make a 16k order would be willing to do free delivery but at the same time you’re asking us to deliver over 5000 lbs of material for free. Which the labor to do that would be crazy. And she’s like I get that it’s not your fault and you’re not in charge but that’s not right. And I’m like ok thanks for realizing it’s not within my control. ...and then she continues to rant about it for 15 min. Like if you get I can’t do anything about it then please shut up. Ok thanks for listening to my rant

[atinykidult]

A War Against Your Personal Space — Jung Wooyoung

[prompt request] [1900 words] — spy!au, enemies to lovers, “Hold your fire!”/”Suck on that!”/”Shut up for a second, will you?”/”I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

[content notes] [fluff] — There’s firearms, cussing, respectively dramatic/knowing Seongsang, endearingly annoying Wooyoung, competition, red cheeks, a lowkey cliche but satisfying(?) premise, etc., etc.

[a/n] — I’m so sorry if the lack of action is disappointing! I’m not great at it, so I focused on the recon/practice/snarky/non-fabulous aspects of the Spy!au. But there’s still plenty of aggression haha Thank you for reading! <3

.

Jung Wooyoung is a piece of shit.

That’s the only thing you can think as you continuously fire at the moving targets.

Bang, bang, bang!

Next to you, he’s doing the same.

(That is, firing at the targets. The shithead probably doesn’t even have thoughts in his head, and, therefore cannot be thinking.)

You’re doing well until you miss one target on your non-dominant side.

You aim more carefully and—

Bang!

Next to you, Wooyoung’s looking at you with an infuriatingly cocky smirk.

“You took my target!” you growl at him, angrily tearing off your ear protection.

He gives you a look. “And you missed!”

You let out a screech of anger, and without thinking do the one thing every firearm safety instructor says not to do:

You point your gun at your teammate.

His eyes are still sparkling with competition and mischief as he raises his hands. “Hold your fire,” he says almost lazily. (Your eyes keep getting drawn back to the damn smirk on his lips.)

Annoyance courses through you like a migraine.

Your hand’s itching to cock and fire.

Sadly, you would be in loads of trouble and job searching if you did.

So you drop the gun and walk away. Let him clean up.

You’re almost out the room when you hear him.

“I knew you wouldn’t! You love me way too much for that!”

“Asshole!”

Then you’re out of earshot, and Yeosang’s dry voice echoes over the intercom.

“You know, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d done it.”

“Hey!”

“It was their shot. And we both know they could have gotten it. You just wanted to show off.”

Your pride’s still smarting two days after the firing range incident because it was true you had missed.

But, still.

As you walk into work a few days later, everyone’s gathered around the whiteboard.

“Y/N! Congrats!”

With that, you know you’re employee of the month.

Yeosang’s smile is a little knowing as you join him in the center of the crowd.

There’s your name on the board, with the most votes collected.

“Your last case was really, really good!” someone comments.

Giving your thanks over your shoulder, you’re looking over who voted for you when you reach it.

The reason why Yeosang has that shit-eating grin on his face.

“It really was a pristine field mission,” a sugar sweet voice whispers in your ear. “So exquisitely done.”

You force your face to be emotionless. “Morning, asshole.” 

“Morning, sore loser.”

(That’s been your nickname for the last two days.)

“But, very clearly, I’m the winner.” You nod to the board. “For the whole month. So suck on that!”

“Oh, yes. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Yeosang’s judgmental gaze reminds you that Wooyoung is still standing too close to you, that his warm breath is still fanning over your ear. That your cheeks are burning with anger.

Was he in a war against your personal space or something?

You storm out of the circle, trying to keep your blood pressure to a reasonable level.

.

When you’re sorting through files with Yeosang later that day, you’re ranting about Wooyoung.

Eventually, he must get fed up with it.

“I know something you don’t,” he singsongs, casually dropping a folder on your side of the desk.

His expression, for what feels like the millionth time this week, is annoyingly knowing. Like he’s watching a friend push the door that says pull.

Because he’s just that kind of person, you grouch to yourself.

“...And what would that be?”

He glances at the folder he just tossed down.

Snatching it up, you find a single page of infuriating news.

“I am not working with that infantile, ridiculous, shit-for-brains—”

“I see you got the memo, too.”

And, within eight seconds, three things happen:

Wooyoung and his damn smirk materialize next to your desk.

Yeosang and his faux sweet grin leave the space next to you.

And you lose your highly annoying but perfectly lovely filing-help to the utterly disappointing replacement of Jung Wooyoung.

The disappointing replacement leans back and throws an arm around you. “I’m looking forward to working with you, partner.”

You groan and shrug his arm off.

.

“Of course you both have to do it! We picked our two prettiest agents! For this level of case, you really should blend in after all.”

“Seonghwa, sir,” you seethe, “literally any other person in this whole building is prettier than Wooyoung.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Both men level a searching gaze at you. Seonghwa’s is more analytical, and you avoid it. But that means you end up staring at Wooyoung’s for a moment too long.

You both look away at the same time.

“Anyways.” You swallow. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Y/N.” Seonghwa’s using his director’s voice; now you’re in for it. “You’re staking out the bars where all the pretty movie stars spend their evenings and get drunk, and find nice, also pretty companions for the night, and…”

You don’t know why you glance at Wooyoung when Seonghwa’s saying that. But you do.

You’re surprised to see him already looking at you.

“...So, yes, I’m sure you have to do it. And yes, I truly mean both of you.”

Realizing your cheeks are burning (a common theme recently), you stand abruptly. “Fine.”

Wooyoung has a triumphant grin on his face and copies you. “Fine!”

Seonghwa waits until you’ve both left his office when he texts Yeosang:

I did it T-T I convinced them they’re both prettier than me

u mean u took the first step at getting them past their rivalry?

At the cost of my self-esteem T-T

.

You spend the first four days doing research, where you try (and fail) to keep things peaceful by ignoring him.

Just email the link, even though he’s sitting next to you.

Just scribble down your thought on a sticky note.

Just ignore him when he bothers you.

Just! Ignore him! Especially when he bothers you.

“I’m telling you!” you finally shout. “If you actually read your contract you would have realized that your fucking lunch break—”

“Okay, okay!” he surrenders, grinning like he’s the one who won.

A few people look over at you, and as you realize this, you also realize how Wooyoung had propped against your side of the table in his ever-constant war against your personal space.

“Sit up and act like you’re a half-functional adult,” you snap.

“I’m not the one who shouted. But yes, ma’am.”

You bite your lip at the way her purrs the last words.

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t pull out the knife… you remind yourself.

So, it’s sad but true that some days you feel like you fail more than you succeed.

But you can’t be too angry when you realize at the end of day four:

“I can’t believe it. We have a whole case proposal — names, proofs, dates, everything,” you murmur, proudly scrolling down the document.

“All we’ll have to do is actually plan the operation and pick out our outfits,” Wooyoung agrees.

“Which is basically nothing since we have all of next week!”

“This is true.”

The euphoria a doing good work washes over you, and you can’t help but beam at him. “It should have taken way longer.”

"I know! We’re—” He snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head as though his words were unimportant.

To be honest, you feel fond of him as he just smiles softly. (He actually has a really nice smile, you notice.)

Then the moment passes, and you turn back to the computer.

(But he keeps looking at you.)

.

Wooyoung’s sitting down for lunch with Yeosang when the latter blurts: “You had stars in your eyes earlier. With Y/N.”

“You think I don’t know it?” he groans.

Yeosang pulls out his phone a few minutes later:

fuck i almost let it slip that we were watching them earlier but i dont think wy noticed bc hes oblivious as a rock

.

Only one hour after that, Wooyoung and you receive the worst possible news.

Which leads to you finding yourselves in an empty office at 11 that night.

“Fuuuu-uh-uuuuck,” groans Wooyoung.

You tiredly rub your eyes and kill all your tabs.

“My brain... is just… fuuuuck.”

Inclined to agree, you open a new window with slow, depressed typing.

“I can’t believe Seonghwa thought we could go in tomorrow. Tomorrow, Y/N! Why tomorrow?”

The screen doesn’t change for a good ten seconds. What were you even thinking again?

“I haven’t pulled a night this late ever! Besides field jobs obviously. But for those you’re doing something, and here we’re doing basically nothing, and I wish we were doing something—”

You draw circles on the screen with your mouse. What even were you thinking... it was a thought… it existed...

“And this is a form of abuse! I swear! If Yeosang somehow got Seonghwa to do this to us just because ‘you had stars in your eyes,’ I’m going to fucking—”

“Shut up for a second, will you?” you moan.

“...Make me.” His voice is sounds different from tiredness.

“Never heard that one before.”

“Please make me?”

There’s something in his tone that catches your attention.

When you give him an incredulous look, you find him looking at your lips. And you’re so exhausted you literally can’t process. (As you head home about fifteen minutes later, you start to process. And you realize you hadn’t hated it at all.)

“Let’s go home,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

(As you step inside your house, the rational side of you wonders what would have happened if you had stayed.)

At some point, he moves very close to you.

(He finally won his war against your personal space, you realize as you brush your teeth.)

Very close.

(Capping your lip balm container, you press your lips together and recall how his felt, pressed against yours. So softly, at least for your perception of Wooyoung. So skillfully, which does match your perception of him.)

His face is still close, but now he’s looking into your eyes.

(He has very pretty eyes; you picture them as you slip under your blankets.)

“Let’s go home,” you repeat breathlessly, “and deal with this all tomorrow.”

His hands, callused and controlled thanks to your profession, rest gently on your neck.

“Do you think all of this… All of this will work out?”

His voice is like starlight, wavering and hopeful and the sole brightness in the dark office.

“I think there’s a very good chance that this all will work out.”

(As your head hits the pillow, you look forward to the next day. Sure, Seonghwa’s going to throw a fit because you’re not ready for a case tomorrow. But you’re really looking forward to working everything out. Everything.)

.

[general ateez taglist] — @s1ardusk​ @seongghwaa​ (thank you so much for your sweet support/friendship! <3)

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

If you don’t stan Midoriya what are you DOING he is so GOOD the core of his character is just. CARING about every person he comes across & trying to HELP them even though most of the people he’s encountered before yuuei had been real nasty to him like he could’ve given up! He could’ve said “you’ve never cared about me so why should I care about you” & turned his back on the world, used his talents for himself or even become a villain (like. My dude has plenty of motive I don’t even think I’d blame him) but he DIDN’T he tries SO HARD he just wants to be able to help people!

“But he‘a a crybaby :/” And?!?! First of all being in touch with your emotions enough to cry isn’t a bad thing!!! Second of all he’s been through a lot and is constantly under so much pressure god forbid he cry a little bit!!

His idol crushed his dreams! & yet he didn’t harbor any ill will toward all might and he still acted & ended up helping save bakugou (& then got SCOLDED FOR IT WTF. Like the pro heroes were all like “you could’ve died!” but they weren’t doing anything!!! Bkg would be dead if Midoriya hadn’t intervened and he got YELLED AT FOR IT. the disrespect is astronomical). He cares about people so much even when they’ve given him nothing but reasons he SHOULDN’T care about them but because he’s so good (and stubborn lmao) he cares about them anyway!! If I was bullied for 10 years I sure as hell wouldn’t care about my bully but because Midoriya’s a literal angel he still does?!?! Like wtf. He’s just so good!

& the most irritating part is that because of aforementioned 10 years of bullying and being let down by everyone (even his mother which while Inko is a great mother & loves Izuku so much she did screw up by not believing in him) he has like no self worth and doesn’t realize how amazing he is?!? He breaks his bones CONSTANTLY bc he doesn’t care about the cost to himself as long as he can save other people he literally doesn’t rlly care if he dies like when he was being killed by muscular he was scared but his thoughts were “sorry Kota, sorry all might, sorry mom” he was more worried about “letting people down” than the fact he was dying!! He only stopped breaking his bones bc he was told that if he did it again he’d permanently damage his arms which would make it rlly hard for him to be a hero like he didn’t even consider using his quirk in other ways before then even when he was constantly in pain from shattering the hell out of his bones!! He was just like “it’s working I’m saving people who cares if I’m in immense pain every time I activate my quirk that’s fine” like holy sh*t kid please care about yourself more!! In the sports festival he broke the bones in his hand TWICE OVER for someone he’d hardly ever spoken to!! Like please PLEASE get some self worth you finally have real friends they can help you! You don’t have to do everything alone PLEASE let them help you!

Also he’s so smart?! Not just book smart (even though he scored fourth in the class on midterms so he’s obviously that too) but he’s super observant and has crazy analyses on ppls quirks and beyond quirk observation he’s really good at observing people too?! He analysed that the slime villain’s weak spot was probably its eyes & threw the backpack at it startling it enough that it temporarily retreated? He observed Bkg enough that he knew exactly how he’d act in the battle trial and devised a plan to help them win (which btw was NOT SAFE FOR HIM AT ALL & HE KNEW THAT & HE DIDNT CARE AS LONG AS HE COULD HELP THEIR TEAM WIN, another point re: last paragraph) & when he found out that Uraraka didn’t have anything that she could float to combat Iida with, he improvised by punching thru the building so that Uraraka had rubble she could use against Iida & he thought of that while in the middle of fighting Bakugou like!!! He! Is! So! Smart!!! He managed to hit the nail on the head about exactly what Todoroki needed to hear during their sports festival fight & made him remember that he could be his own kind of hero & that he wasn’t his father! He figured out the fake Uraraka wasn’t Uraraka at all just bc he KNOWS her and believes in her!!! He figured out some of mirio’s strategy while he was completely wiping the floor with the rest of 1a and so figured out where he’d pop up & tho he didn’t win that fight he did last longer than the rest of his class had! He figured out that he could use Eri’s quirk to CONTINUOUSLY SHATTER & HEAL HIS OWN BONES (again he has NO self preservation and I am sad for him) so that he could fight with 100% of his power and hold on to Eri without being rewound out of existence & traumatizing her further & ALSO TOLD HER THAT HER QUIRK IS A BLESSING! I haven’t rlly gotten farther than that in the anime and I don’t read the manga but I KNOW I’m forgetting things but POINT IS he’s really freaking smart which is another thing that makes him so interesting to watch!! Like how many characters do you know that r both really smart & really kind the stereotype seems to be one of the other but bc Midoriya’s awesome like that he’s both!!

ALSO something else I rlly like about him is that he’s kind and cares about people but when someone hurts a person he cares about he gets MAD & will do whatever he needs to do. He was scared of Bkg but when he implied Midoriya gave Uraraka her plan, he snapped at him & was like “it’s her plan not mine you better respect her strength she did this not me!” He was also scared of End**v*r (I don’t blame him! The guy’s freakishly tall, literally covered in fire, and always angry!) but as soon as he insinuated Todoroki was just his pawn or smth Midoriya TOLD HIM OFF he was like “Todoroki’s not you also f*ck you I hate you” (ok the last part is a lil exaggerated but still). When muscular was threatening Kota? He went FERAL & used 1,000,000% of his power (which. How tf is that even possible but I digress good for you Midoriya ily) to beat him just so this little kid (who literally punched him in the balls earlier) wouldn’t die like he was MAD mad. And when he found out what Ov*rh**l was doing to Eri? I thought I’d seen feral before but HOLY SH*T. He literally tried to KILL HIM (good for Midoriya. Child abusers & transphobes have no f*cking rights) he tried to stab him with that sharp piece of rock & THEN he did 100% full cowling with that absolutely chilling expression like he’s so kind but there was NO trace of kindness on his face while he was fighting Ov*rh**l (good he doesn’t deserve it).

ANYWAYS ALL THIS TO SAY Midoriya is so smart and so strong and so genuinely kind & I love him & I wish he’d love himself bc he deserves it! I’m glad 1a cares abt him so much bc it’s!!! What!!! He!!! Deserves!!! Stan Midoriya ok rant over bye

Edit: ok wait rant not QUITE over I’ve got one more thing: with Uraraka’s help he took a childhood nickname that he always HATED (like he specifically says that in the story don’t y’all try to downplay how much it hurt him) & completely changed the meaning. He even made it his HERO NAME he was like “this isn’t gonna hurt me anymore I’ll make it into something I can be proud of” and like. Even tho I don’t like the nickname and refuse to refer to Midoriya with it unless I’m specifically talking about his hero persona, THE POWER THAT HAS. Once he realized that he wasn’t alone anymore he just DECIDED to take something that had hurt him in the past & turn it not something that could comfort people in the future (bc we KNOW that he’s gonna b the no 1 hero & ppl r gonna be comforted at hearing he’s on the scene). He did that. I’m so proud of him.