#I’m deleting this later…so it doesn’t make your days worse.

[eomayas]

his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

#svt imagines #svt smut #svt angst #vernon smut #vernon angst #vernon fluff #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #vernon x y/n #svt x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon

[kraang5]

tw: vent,swearing,mentions of child abuse

So, wanted to draw today, ya know? All fun sketches and actually finishing the art I promised to do!

BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOO. WE HAD TO GO TO MY PARENT’s FRIENDS. FUCKING GREAT. JUST TO GO HOME LIKE WE HAD A FEILTRIP TO CANDYLAND, AND FOR MOM TO BUY ME A PLUSHIE,ONLY TO SAY ‘sorry about last week’ LIKE YOU ARE SOME SORRY FUCKING VICTIM. IM NOT GOING TO FORGIVE YOU. YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD SAY ‘oh it’s fine mom’ AND GO ON WITH LIVE, AND FORGET ABOUT HOW YOU BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ME LAST WEEK!?

WELL I WONT FORGIVE YOU. IVE ACTUALLY REALISED WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN FUCKING DOING. I ONLY NOTICED AFTER SOME NICE TUMBLR PEOPLE POINTED OUT IT WAS CHILD ABUSE. I NEVER NOTICED BECAUSE IM STUPID AND I CANT DO SHIT RIGHT. IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. IM..

im tired..im too tired for this..im overreacting..overreacting again. Just like the other times. Just like each.single.fucking.time.

#not art. #personal vent #Tw vent #vent post #I’m tired guys. #everything hurts #my scars won’t stop hurting. my wounds keep stinging. I’m sorry #I’m deleting this later…so it doesn’t make your days worse. #I’m sorry if this killed someone’s happy mood. #I guess I was just made to ruin someone’s day or mood or live or whatever #I’m sorry #I’m thankful for you guys… #sorry you had to read this..again

[arthur-r]

unfortunate set of notifications

#(this is talking about saturday not friday it says tomorrow cause it just turned midnight) #i got really sick and anxious today and i didn’t know why but my mom blames my birthday #so wish me luck 👍 i’m gonna be eighteen years old #(for anybody who doesn’t know i don’t TEND to celebrate my april birthday i do my october birthday instead #but saturday is the one where i actually turn eighteen.) #i will actually be having a sleepover on friday night though which isn’t about my birthday but will coincide #but other than that i’m just working a lot. and taking a test. and it will be whatever #idk wish me luck. i am just feeling sick and strange and weird but i’ll figure it out #IN THEORY I AM EXCITED FOR MY BIRTHDAY #like i don’t want it to be this sad evil day that i hate. and it’s not #it’s just so much worse to have a bad day when it’s your birthday. and i often have bad days. so that’s all that the problem is #so whatever. i will hopefully have a good day that day and then it will be a good day. i just like to have a failsafe so it doesn’t have to #count as my birthday if it doesn’t go good. like yeah it’s my birthday but no it isn’t. not until i say it is #idk i don’t make the rules except for i do. ANYWAY goodnight #me. my post. mine. #delete later

[maxinemaxmayfield]

For the STWG daily drabble prompt: modern au

“Steve… he wrote his number on the cup. Your cup. Of course it was meant for you,” Robin sighs, pointing this out for the third time in as many minutes. 

Steve glances back to the barista behind the counter. Their eyes meet and he whips his head back around so quickly she can hear his neck crack. Steve doesn’t see the toothy grin that spreads across the guy’s face after he looks away, or the way he tugs a dark curl across his face. 

“See? He’s looking over here. Just text him!”

“Shut up!” Steve hisses, leaning forward. “What would I even say?”

“Uh, ‘hey, it’s Steve, from the coffee shop’? Or, ‘you look sexy behind that espresso machine’? Or, ‘I want to cover you in chocolate-covered coffee beans and whipped cream and eat my way through to your di–’”

“Robin!” Steve yelps, sloshing some coffee onto the table between them, the edges of the puddle dripping off the edge and into his lap. She jumps up to get napkins, and luckily, that’s the end of that.

Steve doesn’t pull out his phone until later that evening, lounging in bed and staring at the ceiling, agonizing over which regret would be worse – doing it and getting rejected, or not doing it and never knowing. 

He takes a deep breath and taps in the number still burned into his mind, searching his brain for something to send.

That latte was hot, but not as hot as you…

DELETE.

Felt like there was something brewing between us earlier…

DELETE.  

I like my men how I like my coffee… keeping me up all night.

DELETE. 

“Oh my god,” Steve says out loud, groaning and rolling over to bury his face into the pillow. “I’m pathetic.”

“Is that so?” a familiar voice asks, crackly and quiet. The same voice who had called out, ‘latte for Steve’ earlier that very day.

He pushes himself upright, nearly drops his phone before he manages to flip it over and look at the screen. 

OUTGOING CALL - 00:42

He flinches, cursing every piece of technology ever invented as he brings the phone up to his ear. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to call you, sorry. Meant to send a text, but…” Steve trails off, not even sure how to explain it. 

The barista huffs out a laugh. “And what did the text say?”

“Not important,” Steve says hurriedly. “Just saying hi.”

“Well then, hello to you, too. I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

“Steve.”

“I know – it was on your cup,” Eddie says, the hint of a grin in his voice. “So, Steve… next time you come down, I’d be happy to make you a drink on the house.”

And this, the back-and-forth, the flirty banter… this, Steve can do. “I’d rather come by when your shift is over… maybe go grab something a bit stronger than coffee?”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

#steddie #modern au #stranger things #steddie ficlet #st ficlet #steddie meet cute #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #demogorgon daily fics

[foreheadkiss3s]

tate langdon x gn! reader.

trigger warnings : really sad thoughts going through the readers mind. i let my drama queen take over and everything came out too dramatic.

angst/ fluff at the end if you squint your eyes really hard.

this is so messy, really, it’s just a drabble i wanted to put out but i think i’ll probs end up deleting it since i feel like it’s cringey. also, english is not my first language so whatever (and wherever) mistake you might find, please bear with me.

I know it might be confusing, or even worse, not make sense at all. but i just let my messy thoughts flow and that’s the result.

just to get things a bit more clear, tate is still alive and dealing with his situation back home while reader is the only friend he managed to make in high school. the reader was at the house, not the murder house ( let’s just assume the reader’s house it’s near that ) and tate just presented himself there after the reader became distant with him.

« I’m sorry. »

You know about those days, when you wake up and your eyes reflexively land on the window? And then they wander up, and get to notice the soft hue of the blue sky, lightened up by the sun? And it’s almost as if you could feel the warmth of the sun rays seeping through your window?

Perhaps it’s the warmth of the covers, the cozy feeling that you get every time when you just wake up and that later on makes you whine because you know you’ll have to leave that warm place soon to get up and get ready for school. But it’s almost as if you had a restart.

For five minutes— sometimes even less, it depends on how much it takes your brain to process the world outside of your mind again— you get to feel like you’ve just been reborn, and that everything would be alright.

But then it all comes crumbling down.

Your brain registers where you are, the reality you live, and the obnoxious routine you have to do everyday. Get up. Brush your teeth and hair. Skip breakfast because you’re always late. Get dressed. Go to school. Wish to get home during and in between classes. Get finally home, but then you get frustrated because it’s always the same damn thing.

You don’t know what it is that frustrates you, that angers you so much and sometimes even makes you cry. That drains you, leaving you so exhausted that you end up falling asleep only to wake up the next morning and experience the same thing again.

Perhaps, you think, that you’re crazy. Maybe you’re spiralling out of reality. Maybe you’re just being an ungrateful teenager. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe you just want to sleep forever.

But, when you think you can’t take it no more, here comes Tate.

Sometimes you think he’s weird. Not in a bad way, you think he’s just.. weird. He’s one of the most pessimistic people you know, always looking down on the human specie and labelling it as some sort of stupid being. Yet, when it comes to the state you’re slowly falling in, he seems to suck it out of you.

You don’t know how to explain it properly— you don’t even understand it yourself, but it’s almost as if he is a sponge. Just by staying near you, he sucks all the darkness away. He’s like a black hole, but instead of absorbing everything he just absorbs your darkness. Or perhaps he’s just a little hypocrite that doesn’t allow you to be pessimistic just like he is.

Even though you know.. you know that referring to Tate as pessimistic is the least you could call him.

You hate it when he gets clingy, and that happens very often. Who are you kidding? it always happens, hence why you always resort to unkind ways to get him to leave you. You just want to be alone sometimes.

Tate might argue with you and say that it’s more than sometimes, it’s always.

You’re not a good person, you know that. You’re selfish and you don’t care who you’re hurting when it comes to you and the decisions you make.

You didn’t care when you started hanging out with a boy and spent less and less time with Tate. Why did you do it though? You still question yourself.

Yeah, he might be clingy, attached to your hip, dependant on you and the list could go on just like that. But he was the only one that showed you how much you mean, or perhaps, how much you could mean to somebody.

You never thought it possible that a being could be so much for another being.

Tate is your only friend. Even though you’re not sure of that anymore since all you did for the past few weeks—maybe month, was avoiding and ignoring him.

At the beginning it was just to get a little time alone. But then it started becoming more of an avoidance, and now? You thought you were avoiding him out of shame.

But he was your only friend, and you pushed him away for what? To test if you could feel something different than the void you were currently drowning in? How could you have been that selfish?

His eyes seem to be asking you the same questions as he stares deep down inside your soul. His kaleidoscope honeyed eyes.

« I’ll.. » a sob breaks his voice, and his attempt to hold back his tears fails, making the tears break through and fall down his cheeks like diamonds, «.. I’ll leave never bother you again if that’s what you want »

For the first time in weeks you feel something so authentically powerful that it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.

You’re sat there, on your messy, still unmade, bed as you’re looking into his eyes. And he stares back at you almost as if he has already been there, in that position— unwanted and thrown to the side, times and times before. But still it causes him pain.

It’s a subtle but yet stinging feeling. Like a cut being slit open again by a sharp dagger with its blade covered in salt. It’s a swift movement, a methodical cut, because it always seems to be hurting in the same spot.

You don’t say anything.

« You’re just like her. » Constance. Tears stream down his face like pouring rain. His voice taking the resemblance of a wave as sometimes it gets higher and other times it comes crashing down, stopping abruptly to let his tears fall down silently.

Just like rain in the ocean.

Silence fills the room yet again.

« Please.. p-please.. » How come that he’s the one begging you and not the other way around? What is he pleading for?

You frown looking at him, still staring into his eyes like a stone cold bitch. And you might’ve even been one to someone else’s eyes. But not to his.

You were just as hurt and lost as he was.

He got down on his knees, sliding on them on the carpeted floor until he was by your legs, as you were still sitting down on your bed. He sobbed and sniffled as he got in between your legs and let his head slowly come down to rest on your lap. «..d-don’t leave me.

you’re the only thing I have left.. y-you don’t have to do anything just.. p-please.. please I need you. You’re everything to me.. I-I’m.. I.. »

How could you have let everything spin out of control?

You were sorry.

You were so sorry.

Your vision became so blurry, almost as if a plastic wall was swiftly building itself up on your eyes, until it broke down and you felt warm droplets of water strike your cheeks. You were sorry as you could see the hurting boy sobbing on your lap because of your selfish behaviour.

You didn’t know what had happened to you to get you to this point, to hurt mindlessly like that the only person that cared about you. But you knew you were sorry and you wanted to wipe everything you did away.

Your hand, slowly, made its way on his head covered by the soft honeyed hair. You let your fingers slip and comb through the strands of his hair while you finally felt something.

« I’m sorry. » a broken whisper left your mouth.

just wanted to apologize again as i’m sure it came out more cringy than anything, but if you have some advice to give me please feel free to leave a comment ( or just straight up tell me to stop writing and never do it again 🤪 ).

#ao3 #tate langdon #tate and violet #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #american horror story #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x you #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer x you #kit walker #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x female reader

[mynameismckenziemae]

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter II

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

Bob takes you out and lets you in after a(nother) moment of weakness.

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

A/N: The mannerisms of Steve are based off of my sweet, derpy, old pup. She helped pull me out of my crippling postpartum depression and welcomed me back, forgetting I hadn’t just ignored her for the year prior (I was barely able to take care of my newborn, I wasn’t taking care of myself and I couldn’t fathom mustering up enough energy to even pet her, trust me, I still feel bad about it). She is the best.

Warnings: mentions of asshole ex boyfriends, negative thoughts (thanks to asshole ex boyfriend), smut, etc.

Bob waited until you were in your apartment and turned the lights on before taking off. Hes bubbling with different emotions as he drives home. He’s smitten, obviously. He’s never met a girl like you; so beautiful, witty, passionate, funny. He’s baffled that someone like you is interested in him. Then the embarrassment creeps in…he came in his pants like a fucking teenager, but relief since you didn’t laugh or make him feel worse. In fact, it had seemed you liked it. He can’t stop thinking about you whispering how you wanted to blow him the parking lot and then sucking your fingers…Damn it, he was hard again.

He sighed as he unlocked the door to his house. Even though his sister would come once a week or so to get his mail and check on the house, it was stale and stuffy. He opened the windows in his room and got in the shower.

___________________________________________

You overanalyzed the entire night while you showered, every look, every conversation, every touch.

You started and deleted a text to Bob several times before finally hitting ‘send’ and turning your phone over while you put your pajamas on.

Sunny: Thanks again for handling that jerk and following me home. I’m also sorry things got a little heated too quickly. I haven’t dated in years, but I don’t do that on the first date. Or, pre-first date I guess.

A few minutes later your phone dings.

Bob: You’re welcome, I’m just glad you’re okay. No worries, I liked it (obviously lol). Can’t wait to see you again tomorrow.

Your stomach flutters and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s okay. He’s not Derek. He doesn’t think you’re a whore. It’s okay for two consenting adults to do these things.

Sunny: I can’t wait either. Goodnight.

Bob: Sweet dreams

___________________________________________

You sleep until 9 and it feels amazing. You pick up a little in case Bob comes all the way to the door and get ready. He said to dress casually so you don a pair of shorts again with a favorite oversized band tee and a pair of Converse. It feels weird to be putting normal clothes on 2 days in a row, you pretty much live in scrubs or pajamas.

Bob knocks as you’re putting your hair up. As you open the door, you’re greeted by a fluffy gentleman sitting oh so patiently, his tail is giving away his excitement by going a mile a minute. “Hey there cutie. You must be Steve, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sunny.” You say, crouching to pet him. He’s so soft, and his wet nose tickles as he sniffs you.

You rise and take in Bob. He looks good enough to eat in a worn pair of Levi’s and a gray tee. He hands you a bouquet of fresh flowers. “We stopped at the farmer’s market on the way, thought these were pretty,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, the tops of his ears turning red.

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you. Come in, I’ll put them in water.” You smile.

“We can wait out here, he sheds a lot”. Bob replies.

“Oh gosh, don’t worry about it, I grew up with pets and have a vacuum.” You insist, pushing the door open wider.

“Alright,” he agrees. As he brushes past, you notice the slight bruise you sucked into his neck last night and your cheeks heat. Embarrassment or arousal? You weren’t sure.

“Nice place,” Bob says looking around. Steve is sniffing everything in sight.

“Thanks, it’s small but it’s got everything I need. I’ll eventually look into buying a house, but I’m comfortable here for now” you say, trimming the ends of the flowers. “Where’s your place?”

“About 15 minutes from here, by Valencia Park” he replies, looking at the pictures hung on your walls

You nod while filling a mason jar with water and place the flowers in it, setting it in the kitchen window. “Perfect. Thanks again.” You kiss his cheek. “Hey, what’s that on your neck?” You tease, lightly brushing the bruise with your fingertips.

He blushes again and chuckles. “Must’ve burnt myself with the curling iron”.

You laugh, “Is that so? You should really be more careful.”

“You’re telling me. All set?” He asks.

“Let’s go” You nod.

___________________________________________

You watch Steve take the stairs down while you lock up. “That is impressive, is there anything he can’t do?”

“No, not really. I help him in and out of the truck bed because it’s pretty high, but he’s adapted way better than I would’ve expected. Oh hey, my truck is just a regular cab, so there’s no backseat. I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll want to sit in the middle, or Steve will be on your lap. He insists on being by the window, one way or another.” He says as he unlocks it, stepping aside to let Steve through.

You climb on next to Steve and squeal as he immediately goes for your ears, sniffing and huffing with his wet nose again.

“Sorry, he’s pretty polite, but he has a thing for ears,” Bob grins as he gets in seat beside you.

You laugh, “I don’t mind, he’s so sweet. I’m just ticklish”.

Bob pulls out of Penny’s driveway and you’re off. Once he puts the cruise on, he relaxes his leg, resting it against your bare one. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his rough jeans against your skin. Down girl.

“Where we going?” You ask.

“There’s a quiet, dog-friendly beach up there road here, it’s Steve’s favorite place. I packed some lunch too” he replies, slowing to turn into the parking lot.

“That sounds great” you answer.

Steve realizes where he is. His front paws start tippy-tapping and he whines, hardly able to contain his excitement.

You laugh, patting him. “Almost there buddy”.

___________________________________________

Steve zooms along the shore as you and Bob put down a thick blanket. You three are the only occupants, save for an older man with an older dog a couple hundred yards down the beach.

You sit cross-legged and Bob comes to stretch out beside you, handing you a sandwich. You both laugh as Steve attempts to stalk some seagulls, but panics and tucks tail back when they start chasing him. He hides behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. You give him a smooch “You’re okay, I won’t let them get you. Those gulls are mean, huh?”

Bob tells you stories about Steve while you eat, making you laugh at his antics. He pulls his phone out and shows you a picture his sister snapped last night of Steve tucked into the sleeping bag between two little girls, all three wearing sleep masks. “Guess he slept like that all night” Bob chuckles.

Steve eventually sneaks his way between you two, laying his chin on your knee. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” You say, softly rubbing his forehead. Bob chokes, his thoughts immediately turning dirty at your words. You bite your cheek so you don’t smile, pretending you don’t notice.

“Did you bring a ball or anything to play fetch with?” Bob nods, grabbing a frisbee from the bag.

___________________________________________

You three play for a while, the sun warming your arms and legs. It feels good to be outside. Bob tosses the frisbee towards you and Steve, but the wind catches pushing it behind you. Steve’s too focused on it to realize where he is and knocks you off your feet.

“Oh my God, Sunny!” You hear Bob yell running over. “Steven! Watch out buddy, give her some space.”

You can’t answer, you’re laughing too hard. Steve’s in your ears again, sniffing, huffing, and licking. Your laughter makes him more excited, and he zooms away as soon as Bob gets to you. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine. I can see why you love him so much, he’s quite the character.” Bob holds his hand out to help you up. You take it but tug him down instead. He lands with a surprised oomph. You pull him to you for a kiss. He stiffens for just a moment, caught off guard (again) but relaxes into it. You kiss slowly, lazily. You suck his tongue and groans deeply. He’s hard, pressed perfectly against the seam of your shorts right where you need him. “You feel so good” you murmur against his lips. He twitches against you.

Out of nowhere, you feel frigid saltwater slide around you, soaking you both. The tide came in. You squeal and Bob chuckles, the moment gone. Probably for the best, you don’t really want an indecent exposure on your record.

He helps you to your feet. “My place is closer to here, we can get cleaned up and dried off there if that’s okay?”

You nod, wanting to get out of these wet, sandy clothes ASAP.

_______________________________________________

Bob grabs some dog shampoo from his truck and you help him lather and rinse the sand from Steve. “I know it’s a pain with his fur, but he loves the beach so much. It’s worth the extra work to me” you nod, agreeing. You towel him off, unable to stop kissing his wrinkly forehead. Bob lifts him into the bed of the truck and leads him into the kennel he has secured. “I know it’s not the safest, but I only put him in here after the beach. It helps him dry and he loves the wind in his face.” He explains.

You give him a quick kiss. “He’s lucky to have you Bob, you’re a great dog-dad”.

You both towel the sand off the best you can before getting in yourself. “I’m sorry about your truck, I can help you vacuum it” you offer.

“Don’t worry about it, my neighbor's son details cars for extra cash and is always looking for business. I always give him double after beach days.”

“That’s sweet of you.” You reply, sliding into the middle seat again.

“You don’t have, I mean you can sit there if you want but—“

You buckle your seat belt. “I know. I wanna sit by you.”

He nods, a little pink staining his cheeks, “Alright”.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, Bob pulls into a cute, navy blue bungalow. “This is it”.

“I like it, it’s cute.”

You laugh as Bob helps Steve out of the truck bed. His fur is fluffy from the ride.

Bob leads you into the house. It’s tidy, with a minimalistic and cozy design. It smells like him—like clean, fresh laundry with a hint of leather.

He shows you to his bathroom, handing you a towel, he turns to leave. “If you want to leave your clothes outside the door, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine before I shower”.

“Will do, thanks.”

He shuts the door behind him. You carefully undress, trying to not fling sand everywhere. You turn the water on and set your clothes outside the door, purposely leaving your lacy bralette and thong on top to tease him.

You’re lathering your hair for the second time when you hear a knock. “You can come in. Sorry for taking so long, I can’t get the sand out of my hair.”

Bob freezes. He’s been half-hard since he put your pretty underwear in the wash, but taking in your naked silhouette against the frosted glass has him at full mast instantly. “It’s okay, no uh…rush. I have some clothes for you when you’re done. I’ll put them here on the counter”.

“Thanks, I’ll be out soon” you smile as he closes the door. You probably didn’t need to arch your back and stick your tits out like that, but his reactions to you are just too good.

___________________________________________

A few minutes later, you towel dry your hair and take yourself in the mirror. Bare-faced, nipples that could cut diamonds poking through his worn ‘US Navy’ tee, and rolled sweat pants. You look like a slob, you only wear makeup and straighten your hair when you go out, always trying to look good for other guys, you can hear Derek words in your mind.

You push him out of your head as you hang up your towel and open the door.

___________________________________________

Bob fumbles his phone as he takes you in. Curly, wet hair, perky breasts gently bouncing under his shirt as you pad over to him.

He reaches out and brushes a curl by your forehead. “I wondered if your hair was curly after it got wet at the beach. It’s pretty. Do you always straighten it?”

You nod, throat thick as you answer. “Yeah, my ex didn’t like it, thought I was ‘attention seeking’ when I would wear it natural, probably because someone usually commented on it. He uhh, he thought everything about me was ‘too much’; I laughed too much, I talked too much, I hugged too much. We broke up months ago, but I’m still trying to find myself again.” You look away, feeling vulnerable.

“Sounds like he’s an idiot. You could never be too much, Sunny. Your hair is beautiful no matter how you wear it. Everything about you is beautiful.” Tears fill your eyes as and he turns you toward him, kissing you sweetly.

You kiss him back and things heat up quickly. His hand slides into your hair fully, while the other goes to your waist, pulling you into him. He can feel your nipples brush across his chest and his cock twitches. He brings his hand up slowly, but as he reaches the underside of your breast, the doorbell rings, startling you apart. “Oh, I ordered pizza. I got half cheese, half everything so you can put whatever you want on. I hope that’s okay” he says as he turns, trying to discretely tuck his erection into his waistband so he doesn’t scare the delivery driver.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I like everything but anchovies and mushrooms.”

“Agreed, I’ll remember that for next time” he says as he opens the door.

Hmmm, next time? You like the sound of that.

___________________________________________

You both dig in, having a beer each. Steve sits nearby, politely begging with his eyes.

You tell him about yourself. How you were always getting into trouble as a kid since you were quite the little adrenaline junkie, always looking for a thrill. About how you wanted to be a naval aviator like your old man, but you couldn’t put your mom through that, especially seeing the toll it took on Carole when Bradley joined. You tell him how you thrive in chaotic environments and by doing flight nursing, you could combine your passion for flying and help people. He takes in your every word, listening intently.

You settle in on the couch after for a movie as you wait for your clothes to dry, Steve draped across your lap, fast asleep as you rub his ears. “I knew he’d love you.”

You smile, “He’s a sweetheart.”

Bob puts his arm around you and plays with a curl by your ear absentmindedly. He pulls a little and you shiver as your nipples harden. “You cold?” He asks, looking down at you.

You shake your head, dropping your gaze to his lips. You lean forward, capturing his lips with yours. You moan into it, you’ve been worked up too many times since last night without relief. He licks into your mouth, pushing his hand into your hair farther. Your right goes to his chest, sliding up to brush your fingertips over the bruise from the night prior again. He inhales sharply, breaking the kiss. “Steve, buddy, go to bed, okay?” He asks him breathlessly, eyes not leaving yours.

Steve hops off with a heavy sigh, walking towards the bedroom.

You rise to straddle him, leaning forward to bite his bottom lip before kissing along his jaw. You slide your hips forward until you trap his cock against his stomach. His breath hitches in your ear at the contact. You smile into his jaw as you slowly start moving your hips, up and down, rubbing your clit against him.

You let out a breathy moan and his grip on your hips tightens. You kiss up to his ear and lightly nip the lobe. “You’re so big, I can’t wait to have you inside me”

Bob lets out a strangled groan at that. His hands release your hips and slide back to your ass, squeezing a handful in each palm, pulling you harder into his cock. You groan against his ear before pulling back and whipping his shirt off of you.

Your bare tits are level with his face. “Sweet Jesus” he whispers, bringing his hands up from your ass to cup one carefully in each hand. “They’re perfe—you’re perfect,” he says in awe. You should get a boob job, no guy likes less than a D cup, you hear Derek's voice again, but Bob brings you back to him by circling your nipple with his calloused fingertips.

You whimper, “Keep touching me, please. Just like that, and this” You bring your hand up to gently pull and pinch.

His eyes drift shut with a groan, the sight of you playing with your tits is too much. His erection throbs against your hip as he nods, continuing his ministrations. Your hands go to his shoulders for leverage.

You work your hips faster, already hurtling towards the edge. He leans forward and gently sucks your nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper, “Almost there” as your orgasm approaches.

Bob pulls back at the sound, replacing his mouth with his fingers, and groans as he feels you soaking through both pairs of pants. His hips jerk up, chasing your warm, wet heat. He’s getting close too. You moan and your hips stutter as his tip catches your clit just right. He takes your hands and places them on your tits, and drops his back to your hips to guide them. You pinch both nipples as he thrusts and that’s all it takes.

You cry out as your orgasm sweeps through you. Bob takes you in, trying to commit the sight and sounds of you to memory. Eyes closed, flushed cheeks, hands playing with your perfect breasts, your hips undulating against his…it’s enough to pull him over the edge. He groans, hands gripping bruises into your hips and he cums too, coating the inside of his pants (again).

You lean down and place a kiss on his damp forehead. His face is flushed, and he won’t look at you.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, I—I’m good. I uh, I think we should talk.” He replies and a cold wave of shame washes through you. You did too much too fast. Again.

Bob feels you stiffen on him. “No, hey, no it’s nothing you did, it’s not anything bad, I don’t think, I just,” The dryer dings from down the hall, signaling your clothes are dry. “Hey, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll explain.”

You nod, still uneasy and follow him to the laundry room.

___________________________________________

You meet Bob back in the living room, wearing your clean clothes. Mmm, you smell like him.

He gestures for you to sit by him. You can tell he’s nervous, or embarrassed. Maybe both.

“So you know how I told you I’m not good with women, dating, and all that?” You nod. “Well, I meant it. I haven’t dated much. The longest relationship was 2 years in high school. We fooled around a bit, but never went all the way since her family was strict Catholics and she was saving herself for marriage. We broke up after I joined the navy cause she didn’t like long distance. I’ve dated a bit here and there, but it never lasted long as it’s difficult to keep a relationship when I was moving around so much and deployed so often. So…that’s why I was uh…a little quick on the draw last night, and not much better today. You’re gorgeous Sunny, so that doesn’t help either.”

You nod, and can breathe a little better in relief. You’re starting to understand. “Bob, it’s okay. I knew you just got off the carrier after 4 months. It’s…it’s also been a long time for me too. I think that’s why I can’t keep my hands off you, not to mention how good you look in those Levi’s” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Bob’s blush deepens and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh yeah, except that I haven’t, I’ve never…” he stammers.

You realize what he’s trying to say, your stomach flips and your pussy clenches. Oh the things you’re gonna do to him.

“Bob, are you a virgin?”

#bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #natasha phoenix trace

[malk1ns]

36. things you said but didn’t mean (sidgeno)

tell me you're not over contractgate without saying you're not over contractgate...

thanks anon! the prompt list is here :)

Zhenya’s phone has been going off since the news broke last night.

He turned it off after he signed his contract and got confirmation it was received; he wanted to go to bed without constant interruptions, actually get some sleep after an emotional and exhausting couple of days. He hadn’t been that successful, but he’d at least woken up and for a few minutes been able to pretend that it was just a regular day, that nothing dramatic had happened to him recently, and all he’d have on his phone were the usual drunk messages from Sasha begging him to come back to Moscow early and a few good-morning emojis from Sid.

After he finished his tea, though, he couldn’t avoid it any longer, and he reluctantly took his phone into the living room, hoping that maybe the background murmur of the TV would lessen the blow.

It did not.

The TV is on, sure, but Zhenya had to turn it to mute—the morning news clashing with the constant pinging and buzzing as his phone frantically tried to alert him to every missed call, text, email, telegram, WhatsApp, instagram DM, snapchat, and tweet was giving him a pounding headache. And two hours later, he’s just barely climbing out from under it, deleting the majority of the notifications unread and focusing his attention on responding to teammates and the guys who are still lingering around Miami for the summer. The rest of the Russians and his family can wait—his parents will understand, and he doesn’t care about pissing Sasha off.

There’s one conversation that’s been pushed all the way to the bottom of his iMessages, inactive since yesterday morning. Zhenya’s scrolled past it a few times, but can’t bring himself to click on it.

Finally, when he finds himself actually contemplating responding to fans’ DMs with apologies for making them worry, he forces himself to open the last things Sid texted him, right after their fight.

hanging up on me? seriously?

this isn’t my fucking fault

and now you’re ignoring me? fucking awesome

whatever man. i don’t have to deal with this shit from you. i’m sick of your bs whenever you’re not getting your way. do whatever the fuck you want, i’ll find out what sorry team signs you tomorrow afternoon

Zhenya feels a little sick, reading it back now. He’d been so angry when he’d hung up on Sid, screaming at him like he hated him. Some of the stuff he’d said…he can’t blame Sid for being upset.

There are Flyers fans from their early years in the league who’d love to take notes on what Zhenya said to Sid yesterday.

Sid’s weathered Zhenya’s temper before, though—let him rant and rave and calmed him down with just the right words, and eventually, just the right touch. He’s always known when to leave Zhenya alone and when to engage, just like Zhenya knows how to handle Sid’s bursts of anger and the rest of his quirks. It’s why they work, it’s why they’ve always worked.

Now, though, staring at a conversation that hasn’t been updated in over 24 hours, Zhenya wonders if he finally said something that Sid can’t forgive. What else would have kept him from sending a message when he got the news that Zhenya was staying after all?

Screwing up his courage, Zhenya presses ‘dial’ and waits, holding his breath.

When it goes straight to voicemail, he wonders for a second if he really will pass out.

call me pls he fires off, sinking into the couch and rubbing his hand over his face when the message stays green.

He fucked it up for real this time, then. And now he’s tied himself to Sid’s team for the rest of his career, when Sid’s never going to talk to him again—or worse, he will, but in that freezingly polite voice he uses with annoying reporters and former teammates who have fallen out of his favor.

Zhenya wonders if Hextall would be able to trade him, even with the dramatics of the last 36 hours. Surely someone would be able to accommodate his new, reduced cap hit.

He’s not sure how long he sits on his couch, the TV playing soundlessly and his phone slack in his hand, but when his lock starts to turn, it sounds like a gunshot.

“Fuck,” Zhenya hisses, scrambling to retrieve his phone where it had fallen when he jumped. Probably Seryozha; old man never knows when to mind his own business.

When the door is finally open, though, the voice that floats through from the foyer is distinctly Canadian. “G?”

“Sid??” Zhenya says incredulously, jumping to his feet and almost tripping over his couch on his way to the hall.

Against all odds, it is Sid in his hallway, raggedy in his sweats and with bruise-dark circles under his eyes. He has one of his plain black caps crammed over his head, and the curls escaping from the sides are greasy.

“You’re staying,” Sid says, dropping his duffle. He looks small, shoulders uncharacteristically hunched in, and Zhenya moves toward him before he remembers what happened.

“I’m not sure you see,” he says cautiously. Sid seems skittish, darting his eyes around Zhenya’s condo like he’s never been here before. “I try to call, it’s voicemail. Sid, you’re here?”

“Oh, I was on the plane…I think my phone died while I was in the air, I don’t have a charger, can I plug it in somewhere?” Sid’s fumbling in his pocket. He won’t meet Zhenya’s eyes.

“Sid,” Zhenya says, concerned now, moving closer just as Sid sways forward alarmingly. “Sid! Jesus, come sit down.”

“Sorry,” Sid says faintly, letting Zhenya manhandle him into the living room and down on the couch. Zhenya remembers when they went to pick it out, how Sid had spent hours thoughtfully trying every couch in the store until the salesman looked like he was about to scream, before finally convincing Zhenya that this boring beige monstrosity was the right choice. He’d been correct, of course; this one is big and deep, and even ten years later still the most comfortable piece of furniture Zhenya owns.

“You’re sick?” Zhenya asks, plucking Sid’s phone from his hands and plugging it in. “Need water, maybe, or like, soup?”

“No,” Sid says with a deep sigh, settling back into the cushions and cracking his neck. “I’m fine. I’ve been traveling since last night, I haven’t slept…I’m just tired.”

“Last—” Zhenya snaps his mouth shut when Sid looks at him steadily. Last night, when his contract extension was announced. “Sid, I…”

“No,” Sid says firmly. “Listen. I get you were mad. I…well, I don’t know what it felt like, but I understand. And we both said some things…” He heaves a sigh. “I didn’t mean what I texted you. I’m not sick of you. I want to deal with your shit.” He looks down at his hands, twisted up in his lap. “I…you promised me. Do you remember?”

Zhenya does. After their first Cup, when they’d been so sure that they’d be back the next year, and the year after that. He and Sid had been tucked away together in a corner of Mario’s backyard, passing a bottle of shitty flat champagne back and forth and watching the sun rise. They’d been talking, but after a while it had faded to nothing, just quiet company, shoulders pressed together as the next day arrived.

“You’ll stay, right?” Sid had said abruptly, and Zhenya had looked at him, bleary-eyed and confused. “Here, in Pittsburgh. With me. You’ll stay? Even after your next contract?”

It hadn’t been a question that needed answering, in Zhenya’s eyes, but he’d answered anyway, leaning over and tilting Sid’s chin up and kissing him before whispering, “I stay always. Promise.”

He’d meant it then. He meant it last night, when he put pen to paper and signed away the rest of his playing career. He’d meant it when he was spitting invective at Sid over the phone, too, swearing he’d leave and sign somewhere the front office actually gave a shit about him.

“I never forget,” he says now, sitting next to Sid on the couch. “I’m so sorry, Sid, I’m like, I don’t know what I say to you. It’s such horrible things…I’m not mean, I swear. What do I do for forgive?”

When he looks over, Sid’s eyes are squeezed shut, but there’s a tear trickling down one cheek anyway. “I know you didn’t,” he chokes out. “I know, but…I was scared, G. I never really thought you’d leave me, and then…”

He opens his eyes and glares fiercely at Zhenya. “Fuck you for saying all that shit,” he spits, and Zhenya bows his head, because he deserves it. “Fuck you for doing that to me.” He sticks his hands in his hoodie’s front pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Zhenya goes very still.

“I had to stop in Pittsburgh, on my way here,” Sid says, turning the box over in his hands. “I’ve had this…well, I had ideas, but we haven’t exactly made the most of the last couple of playoffs, so.” He snorts humorlessly. “We might not ever again, so I’m not sure what the point of waiting is.”

Sid flicks the box open. Inside there’s a ring, nestled in satin, shining bright. It’s gold, with beveled edges cut through with black striations, and thick; something that won’t look out of place on Zhenya’s big hands. If he knows Sid, there will be something on the inside—a date, maybe, or even a time.

“You don’t deserve this right now,” Sid says quietly, lifting Zhenya’s right hand and sliding the ring on. “And I’m not sure I deserve to be asking, either. But maybe that’s the point, eh? We’re still here.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, splaying his fingers out to admire the ring, then folding his hands around Sid’s.

“Yes to what?” Sid asks, a bit of amusement lacing into his voice.

“Yes to everything,” Zhenya replies. “Everything, with you.”

#this one's weird; sorry i had a weird day! #sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic

[heartnanase]

it’s a privilege to be ignorant

Angst cuz i’m silly like that sorry guys basically xinyan threatens to tell childe you like him and you were like no hahah stop then backflip

they/them pronouns used once

“childe asks why you unfollowed him on instagram..” xinyan catches up to you, couldn’t she take the hint? you were walking as fast as you could.. kinda….. you had a feeling she would ask. her and childe are bestfriends, they tell eachother everything. you chuckle to yourself as she glares at you in disgust. what? did his ego get wounded? “cause he sucks.” you mumble. really you only unfollowed him because, you were upset by his teasing when he said he was going to delete the photos of you and him for storage on his phone. lame isn’t.. it… you actually… liked him.

never. in. a. million. years. would you imagine liking childe. it’s pretty simple how you fell for him, when he first gave you advice seriously. it was like seeing a side of him that you never did before. when you went home that night you were circling your room figuring out ways to not fall for someone the thing is, before you fell for childe you already knew he liked someone else. actually you already knew who it was. that’s why you SWORE to yourself you wouldn’t let him find out. xinyan grabbed your phone, “hey stop day dreaming, why do you keep shutting childe out!” you look at her.

“listen xinyan..” you grabbed back your phone as she stops trying to fight for it back after hearing you speak. “everything’s fine i’m fine me and childe are fine.” she didn’t look very convinced, you hated people like this. ones who act like they can see right through you, because xinyan will never understand how you feel. “i won’t leave you alone til you tell me what’s-“ you groan to shut her up. “i like him. i like him okay now can you leave me alone!” she smiles in excitement jumping up and down planning how you should tell him and that she could set you up with him. this was exactly how you thought she’d act. “this is so cute how are you going to confess!” you raised your eye brows as she clings onto you yapping and blabbing oh my goodness “no this was a bad idea let’s just forget about this”

“fine if you won’t tell him i will.” she was about to walk away and you grab her wrists as you stumble on your words. you sigh, “wait! i will! but only because i will never let my feelings be said from someone other than me.” you walked away from her as you tried to find childe, and when you did you gulped. you guys were already on awkward terms and now it’s going to be even worse. you tapped on his shoulder “i like you” he pretended not to hear you and turned around and offered you a dumpling, it broke your heart. “are you seriously going to ignore what i said you did everything to not tear up. “i-i just don’t know what to say look i’m sorry i’m not ready for a relationship.. maybe in the future?” bullshit bullshit bullshit. you already knew he wouldn’t like you in the future he’s just being nice. you already knew what he was going to say, you already knew he was going to reject you. but it still hurts.

for months your bestfriend has been telling you to get revenge on xinyan for driving you confess, but if you did get revenge. you would’ve been the reason he doesn’t have a bestfriend anymore. so you never told childe about it, how you never actually wanted to confess. well you and childe haven’t spoken since. usually you just send him glares and insult him when he tries to make conversation. you were only doing this so he’d think you hate him and so that maybe he can hate you too, it’s beneficial to him. the more you pretend to hate him, the faster he hates you then forgets about you.

a year later and you can’t forget about how you ended. it wasn’t easy for you, it was eating you alive when you saw childe. you turned your back to a wall and listened on him, you overheard him saying “i just don’t get how you could let go of someone close to you so easily? it took me 3 months to get over it and it took them a day.” you smile as you look down because you were still deep into it a year later, and the thing is you cant even blame him for being angry about it because he doesn’t know that you risked your reputation all so he doesn’t think you care. does he know people have been staring at you like a heartless creature?

at the same time you’re happy because, at least he got over it. there was nothing in this world that you wanted more was to be selfish, to tell him everything you’ve been dying to admit. but if he found out the truth he’d feel guilty. so you stayed silent. it’s better this way anyways, he’s happy.. he’s moved on. and you’re…. yk. you.

i love xinyan

#this is my love life #this was much worse irl #don’t have a second love #ajax #tartaglia #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe angst #ajax angst #tartaglia angst #childe #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader

[dracocheesecake]

Can I share here my Kai’s rambling but there’s mentions of death so if you’re uncomfortable with that pls just ignore or delete it below I may refer to reader as they

Platonic/father figure Kai and reader who died of injuries or of illness.. He didn’t expect things to go that way, or maybe he didn’t really want to think of it. You are mortal, such an outcome is anticipated sooner or later but why Kai feels so devastated? He didn’t think he’d become attached to anyone ever again, willing to care of someone. Yes he called you annoying often or was giving you ridiculous nicknames to piss you off but Kai’s other actions showed that he actually cared about you. Even though he never voiced that. He regrets it now.

He even thought of checking if you’re in the spirit relam now despite the fact that his escape from there costed him taking chi of ALL kung fu masters there. Oh wait, yes, there’s no guarantee that you’re there. Where are non masters go after death or how to get there? Kai doesn’t know. In the moment he just holds your still warm body close in his embrace, carefully, just like when you were alive. As you both spirits now Kai is struggling to find you and go on living like that or let you go.. Who knows, if he waits you will return one day

If they died of illness Kai’d be broken long before that moment. He even tried to give you chi but it didn’t work. He can only take it. All Kai can do now is taking care and treat you. He’s not that mean anymore, not when you have no time, you deserve peaceful ending after all

I’m hurting myself with my own writings why I am in such an angst mood😭😭😭

Oh no feel free to keep it coming! I love talking about Kai!

Alrighty let's see here...

...Why would you do this to me?! 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 My heart! You owe me a new heart this one is broken!

Ahhhh I'm just imagining Kai trying to find a way to figure out where Y/N's soul went, and how he can get there, while knowing he probably can't, being immortal, but he's willing to try and bring them back, no matter how long it takes...but even worse is him watching them die, knowing that he can't prevent it.

When he realizes they're about to pass, he's suddenly so much kinder and softer towards them than he's ever been. He no longer raises his voice, or even tries to make them angry anymore- not even to tease them to amuse himself. He tends to them as best as he can, getting them water, wrapping them up if they're cold, changing bandages if they've been injured - overall treating them like a small child, showing them the care he's had for them deep down but never shown.

Then he's holding them close in their last moments, watching their chi fade away, but just desperately trying to heal them, to make them well, and finally breaking down in the end, begging them not to go, not to leave him...and after that horrible, final moment, still cradling them in his arms as he never did when they were alive.

#such good angst! #This actually made my day thank you! 😭 #kung fu panda #general kai #platonic/fatherfigure!General Kai x reader #general kai x reader #ask #angst #tw: death #death

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 15 / previous installments/tags

Mason plays nine games, and at morning skate before the tenth game, they make him lead the stretches. The clatter of his teammates’ tapping sticks fills the circle. He’s staying in Anaheim.

It’s harder to follow the Pats in his new time zone, but Mason manages it. He watches the fuzzy WHL stream when he can, and he sees his share of media coverage about next year’s presumed 1OA draft pick and his incredible shot and his dedication to hockey and how he’s only 5’9 but he’s sturdy with those thick hockey thighs, and that’s when Mason usually makes himself close the tab.

He keeps texting Connor just the same as ever. Hockey stuff. Draft stuff. Being Connor’s friend from the safe remove of his phone feels allowable. It also feels a little fraudulent, but it’s not like Mason’s going to stop talking to him. Maybe their texts are less frequent this season, but Connor’s got a lot going on. Anyone who follows hockey can tell that.

One afternoon a text from Connor catches Mason at home, on an off day in the middle of a homestand. He wonders later if Connor planned it that way.

hey this is going to come out soon so turns out I’m an omega

Mason’s hands go numb around his phone. It’s really happening. Kent was right. Mason was right, or his nose was. He can’t tell himself any more that maybe this is all some fucked-up mistake. He can’t think of what to say back, or make his thumbs work to say it. Another text from Connor appears before Mason can unfreeze, and he immediately feels guilty.

R u surprised? 

Sweat pricks at the edge of Mason’s forehead. How the fuck is he supposed to answer that? Yeah no your scent’s been driving me crazy all year, bet you didn’t think this could get any more fucked up huh! No way. Connor’s got enough to deal with already. He makes himself type kinda, and hits send. Thanks for telling me, he adds.

He stares at his phone. ok, Connor says. And then

Have you

A fragment, like Connor meant to rewrite or delete it instead of hit send. But it’s an opening Mason has to take. Connor’s going to find out sometime. If Mason doesn’t say it now it’ll only be worse later. His hand shakes as he thumbs Y and sends it. Another fragment. He should keep typing. He can’t make himself.

Instead, a reply from Connor pops up. 🅰️?

Heat roars through Mason’s belly at Connor calling him alpha, even in emoji form. Suddenly he feels more confident, ready to take charge of the conversation. Did the beard give it away?

Connor’s typing bubble appears. Then it goes away. It comes back, for a long time. But after another pause, all that appears is ya😂.

Idk why it’s not out yet, Mason says. Guess nobody cares about anaheim. He’s been bracing himself, knowing it wouldn’t take long once they reopened locker rooms to the media. But all of their very few beat reporters are betas. Trevor’s buzz hasn’t been enough to bring the national broadcast through town yet this season.

But this conversation should be about Connor, not him. r u ok? Mason asks.

just getting used to it

you could talk to owen, Mason suggests.

haha that’s what kent said

Heart pounding, Mason immediately swipes over to his text thread with Kent. Did u say anything to connor? 

No but u should. 

Mason can practically see Kent rolling his eyes as he types it. He’s halfway through a response when the texts on his screen are replaced by an incoming FaceTime.

Connor.

The same photo of Connor that’s always been in Mason’s phone, the two of them at U18 worlds, medals around their necks and trophy held between them. Mason opens the call and the photo is replaced with Connor’s face, a little narrower and sharper than it was a year and a half ago. The panic Mason felt at the FaceTime alert is washed away by the relief of seeing Connor, the anticipation of hearing his dry voice. 

“Hi,” Mason says, embarrassed at the fondness that manages to pack itself into that one single syllable. 

“Hey.” Connor’s wearing an old white t-shirt with a collar that’s stretched crookedly. The tips of his collarbones show underneath its edge. “Just thought I’d call. Probably should have in the first place, but.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Mason’s body autopilots him through his apartment while his eyes are glued to Connor. He closes his bedroom door behind him even though there’s no one else at home.

Connor sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know.” He looks so young.

The room behind Connor is nondescript. Mason can see the edge of the doorframe, the anonymous seam where the wall meets the ceiling. Probably their apartment in Regina.

Mason scoots back on his bed to sit up against the wall. The last time he saw Connor looking anything other than perfectly self-possessed was that first practice in Texas, holding his stick too tight. Mason knew what to do then. He doesn’t now.

“How’d you find out?” Mason regrets the question as soon as it’s out of his mouth. It’s not like Connor’s going to say I scented you and it was game over.

Connor’s eyes shift to the side, evasive. “It was pretty obvious.”

Mason wonders if there’s an omega equivalent of his own experience. For a split second he pictures Connor waking from a dream, slick pooling between his legs, and then he makes himself stop thinking.

“How about you?”

Mason scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, also obvious.” What would it be like if he could just say it? Most insane wet dream of my life, popped a knot. Would Connor ask him more? Would he stay on the line as Mason told him about the dizzying sensitivity of his knot swelling in his hand and what it might feel like swelling inside Connor, would he murmur geography questions to Mason while he…

He's seventeen. Mason wrenches his thoughts away and changes the subject. “Has anybody given you a hard time?”

“Nah.” Connor’s voice is wry. “I mean, I’m getting chirped, obviously. Like, Val…” Connor rolls his eyes like never mind, and Mason makes a mental note to check the Pats roster for who the fuck Val is.

“Are you worried about the draft?”

Connor shrugs. “Not much I can do.” The indifference seems more practiced than genuine. “Maybe Fantilli beats me out after all.”

“Fuck that,” Mason spits. “You’re better than he is.”

“He’s not an omega.”

“That we know of,” Mason counters.

Connor laughs. “I’ll keep you updated if I find out anything next month. Breaking news.”

World juniors. Mason’s been trying not to think about it. “You guys should have a good team.”

“You’re definitely out?” Connor’s blue eyes bore through the screen at him.

“Yeah, not an option.” It’s the right thing. But that doesn’t stop Mason from wanting to abandon his NHL contract and run straight to Connor.

Connor has a funny look on his face. “They probably wouldn’t let us room together anyway, eh.”

“Yeah.” It hurts to say it. “Guess those days are over.”

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen #cw for some impure thoughts about a then-minor

[darby-derby]

Sorry not sorry but kids on TikTok are being so dramatic about the JJK fandom right now. “The new MHA” “the figurine incidents” are you new to the internet??? Have you EVER been in a fandom before? If not, you’re not old enough to be watching JJK or interacting with its fandom anyways. And for the record, JJK is nowhere near MHA in terms of fandom horrificness. I’ve never been in either, but I can easily name like five different things about the MHA fandom that make it so much worse than JJK. (Grown women simping over and making their whole personalities wanting to marry and prey on 15 year old boys, nsfw audios and other sexual content of 15 year olds everywhere, people actually getting into physical altercations and doxxing eachother over ships, actual 15 year olds thinking it’s fine to be with adults because of the aforementioned shit, the destruction of hotel and convention property, etc). The JJK fandom makes horny jokes about fictional characters and themselves. That’s it. That’s the “horrible” fandom these people are whining about. That shit is hilarious, and if you don’t want to see it, you can block tags on TikTok effortlessly to avoid it. No seriously, just click “not interested” and opt to add more detail, then block the tags on the specific post that you don’t want to see more of. If you’ve been on the internet for more than ten years you’ll be fully aware of the fact that someone squeezing period blood from a tampon on their figurines is harmless and doesn’t affect you in any way. There’s an entire subreddit for people cumming on their figurines, this is nowhere close to the worst thing fandoms have done to their figures. Have we already forgotten the rainbow dash jar?

Just to be clear so people don’t start trying to twist this around, I’m not saying they don’t have a right to be grossed out by it or something. I’m saying that making several posts about how horrible that person is for doing shit to their own figures, and blowing it out of proportion by implying it’s even remotely as bad as a fandom full of 30+ year olds simping for teenagers is stupid. It’s dramatic and it’s annoying as hell to be scrolling my normal fyp and suddenly see several vocaloid background slideshows about how “problematic” the JJK fandom is. It’s not even like I can block that shit because they use main tags like “anime” to tag it. If I block that my fyp will be in shambles and I’ll be thrown to the depths of footballtok or something.

“It’s against TikTok TOS” and they got banned. They’ve been banned already. For a while now. Also people literally just straight up post cropped porn on TikTok all the time, this isn’t news either. Just block the tags and move on if you think the fandom is that gross. Better yet: block the tag of the CHARACTER that gets all of the sexual attention. It irritates me to no end how people will just complain about shit then refuse to fix the problem and continue to complain. It’s not the responsibility or fault of other people to bend to your preferences. “Don’t like don’t read”, block and move on. And I can assure you, not seeing harmlessly weird fandom shit isn’t a need. It is VERY much a preference.

Little edit/side note: the vast majority of people complaining directly state in their slideshows and videos that they didn’t get the video on their fyp. They were told about or linked to it and made the conscious decision to view it. We REALLY need to teach people Dead Dove: Do Not Eat outside of ao3.

Anyways I hope my mutuals have a wonderful day, just ignore this lol I had a moment and will likely delete this later.

#txt #ranting #not jjba #sorry I got possessed by ghiaccio for a sec there

[catesartworks]

I’m really curious as to what isekai you’ve read because I haven’t really encountered this maid abuse trope as much I mean usually the story makes the maid do some unforgivable shit then she gets beat or it’s usually the villainess that does the beating to show just how morally crooked they are just to glorify the proverbial angelic MC but I digress. the isekai I read are mainly Korean manhwas and they tend to make their mc’s morally righteous (honestly there is a serious problem with how they pit women against each other too and how there’s any lack of other well written women but that is a separate topic) So I got a bit confused at the beginning of your comic ( i’m still thoroughly enjoying it though)

Hey there! Thank you so much for reading Isekai Maid!

I actually saw this comment on my webtoon, but I will answer it here. I've read an unhealthy amount of Rofan/Otome Isekai, so I come across this trope a lot. Here is a list:

Warning, gonna about abuse and some light spoilers

Here is a compiled list of every maid slap I've come across (light spoilers):

Iris: lady and her smartphone - slaps her aunts maids instead of the aunt to teach her aunt a lesson. Only hits the aunt when she is already powerless.

Duchess 50 tea recipes - slaps her employee after coming from a hostile workplace. Talks about how she understands what it's like to be demeaned, only for her to slap and threaten her employees, and then brags about it later internally.

I’m deleting them from my life - slaps a maid for stealing from her instead of just firing her.

Author of my own destiny - slaps a maid twice for giving her dirty water. Throws water on her. We are meant to hate the maid because we know her thoughts. Uses intimidation, knows the maids behavior is due to wanting favor from the countess, who is higher in the social order in the house than the mc.

The lady needs a break - Sleeps in all day, asks for breakfast from staff when breakfast is already long over. Then she slaps maid over food that wasn't good enough. Her stepmother verbally abuses her and she doesn't even consider slapping her even though she is much worse than the maid. Rubia reminds me of customers who came in too late for breakfast, and accused me and coworkers of hiding food or personally withholding it from them. This one makes me especially angry. I see comments celebrating this abuse, and it makes me think that they would cheer for the customers who hurled verbal abuse at me because they were late for the breakfast menu.

Untouchable lady - throws water on maid to “show her her place”

The villainess wants a divorce - Slaps maids for bullying her. She is a princess by the way.

What it takes to be a Villainess- Main character abuses all her maids to see which one is the spy.

Everybody Loves the Villainess- protagonist whips and abuses her maids, she is determined by the reincarnated saint who inhabits her body to not be a bad person who only wanted love only because she doesn’t abuse her stepson. Her maids (except for the pet maid) are deathly afraid of her wrath.

I am the Real One--One of the few titles that actually shows that maid slapping only fosters a negative work environment. The main character tries to connect with others, and is friends with her maid, Rose. (SPOILERS) The only thing I didn't like was how they resolved the "evil maid" in the second timeline.

More thoughts below if you want to read:

The thing about the maid abuse trope is that, to me, it goes out of it's way to make a noble the victim of their own employees who they can fire at any time. It doesn't make any sense either. It takes a lot of leaps in logic to understand why someone, who really needs the money, is of a low social position, can be killed by nobles over the smallest things, would go out of their way to abuse their employer's children or the employer themselves (no matter if they are illegitimate) when the ramifications would be astronomical and life destroying.

It is a trope, I feel, that is mired in a deep disdain for people in the service industry, or in professions deemed "inferior." This is a worldwide problem to be honest, and I see it in the west a lot. It's easier to make the people who work in service jobs "ungrateful and lazy" rather than confronting awful behavior from customers who look down on them.

Whenever I see a maid character who is evil, their behavior usually echos the things that I heard from customers while I was working as a drive thru cashier:

"I'm going to hide the best food from the noble Main character because I'm evil! This noble who employs me can just eat slop hehehe"

Maid characters and their relationship with the protagonists are also a symptom of the unfair relationships that female characters have with each other in this genre. The MC must always be the one in charge. I've seen maids infantilized (Millionaire Divorcee) and become fangirls for the MC with no lives of their own. That or they are used baby machines for nobles and cast aside in backstories (Abandoned Empress, Behold the True Villainess, a ton of titles).

Main characters can be friends with maids, as long as they gush about how pretty she is, how smart and talented she is, and how they would sacrifice their very lives for her. Anything less than that, and they are suddenly horrible, untrustworthy, scheming, they "don't know their place,' they should be taught a lesson.

Power imbalances are glorified. What kind of pains me, is that a lot of these main characters come from the modern world and shouldn't be as tolerant of this abuse of power. The main character's family can abuse her all they want and she can use her words against them. she can make intricate plans to take them down, all without having to use physical violence. Her love interest can grab her, scream at her, isolate her, demean her, and she shrugs it off and gives them the benefit of the doubt.

But when it comes to people of lower status, all bets are off. The MC will use physical violence. She will use threats of violence, slap them, throw water on them. While I get that social dynamics play a part in why she won't do the same to the people who literally had the maids do to this, we often see reincarnated modern women engaging in maid slapping with no thought about the implications.

She is their employer, and many times the lady of the house. She can just fire them, remove their references. Why use physical violence unless she herself wants to hit someone who can't socially fight back? Slap the stepmother, slap the shitty dad. Punch up, not down.

#tw: abuse #this isekai maid

[arthur-r]

asked reddit how to maintain stage presence while seated and the responses are ridiculous so does anyone here have advice?

#‘​‘get a wheelchair for sympathy’’ yeah i would have a wheelchair if it were that easy to afford!!!! #i did like the advice of making the chair super cool. the person suggested i go to a thrift store and get the best chair there #i’ll have to see about clearing that with the drummer (concert is also her grad party) but sounds like a good idea #however it doesn’t actually help me look less awkward while singing and that’s the problem #is that by default i sit with my whole body crossed and folded and that’s not how to look like a lead singer #and all the rules i know to fix that involve standing up. and i nearly passed out just singing my songs from a chair yesterday #because that was somehow also too much exertion. yeah i’m not doing very well. i wish the concert could wait #but anyway has anyone here had to perform from a chair and your hands weren’t automatically busy?? what did you do with them???? #i’ll be playing cello in some songs so i’ll be alright for those but other than that i have no clue what to do #anyway our second concert ever is in a few days i’m pretty nervous #this saturday. real people are coming and a real musician is opening #and i’m not even allowed to wear my cool shoes :( #i also keep dreaming that it’s the last day of school and i’m walking down the hallway crying???? and seeing people i miss?? #so just feeling a little bit strange. anyway my grandparents will be picking me up in a little bit to go out for my birthday (was in april) #so i’m gonna have a shower and get ready for that. but here is a little status update i guess #me. my post. mine. #delete later #and right please give advice!!!! my stage presence is already awful cause i’m autistic and can’t read the room. being seated makes it worse #anyway i’m getting in the shower. but thanks preemptively for any and all advice and otherwise i just hope you’re well

[nova-dracomon]

The Darkest Times Ain't Always at Night

Originally posted on the Fictionkind Dreamwidth on April 8, 2024

Some of the prompts on this DW I feel like I could answer with a single word. “Does your fictomere have hair?” Nope! But then, other prompts basically make me tell my entire life story.

Has your fictomere ever gotten seriously ill? What happened? - Prompt #97 [Sickness]

Absolutely, and it changed literally everything.

In my earliest memories I lived alone on a mountain range. Dracomon can’t really fly per-say, but we can glide well enough. So I’d spend my days dozing and digging around for gems and metals to eat. The best ones were kept up at high altitudes too, so my expeditions could take a while. If I were to eat enough, I knew I would be able to digivolve and that’s what I was really after – becoming a coredramon and gaining actual flight.

In a valley at the base of the mountain there was also a small village of digimon. Between trips, or when I needed supplies, I’d stop by. Overtime, I got to know the villagers and we became friends. Though, they couldn’t understand why I chose to live alone. “I like my privacy” or “I value my independence.” I’d say, but they did have a point that living in a community would be easier. If I got attacked or fell ill I’d be alone so far from help. I could be in real danger and more than once I was tempted to move.

None of us could have known what would happen next.

The digiworld is ruled by a supercomputer called King Drasil. As the digiworld got more and more populated, it was putting more and more strain on them. Till finally they decided to purge all but 1% of the world’s population and move their chosen few to a new server (before deleting the current one). To this end, they created the x-program. A high-infectious, fatal virus with no cure.

Most of the time.

As they and I would come to discover, sometimes death doesn’t stick. In a few rare cases, a digimon with a strong enough will to survive could overcome the virus by mutating their digicores-essentially their souls. This process would also bring out any latent data being stored in there, altering their appearance and increasing their strength.

Can you see the unfolding disaster brewing? But, hold on, it gets worse.

There’s another way to get x-antibodies for yourself besides hoping you can change the coding on your soul. You can steal them. By integrating another digimon’s core with your own, you can temporarily stave off the effects of the virus. There is no possible way to do this without killing the other digimon. On top of all this, King Drasil ordered his royal knights to hunt down any x-digimon - glitches in the system of their master plan. Royal knights are mega-level digimon of unimaginable power – too strong for any normal digimon to tackle one-on-one, nevermind the whole crew!

Even alone in the mountains I had caught the virus and alone I overcame the infection. My noema of this time is blurry, but I remember writhing in pain in some desolate cave as my pixels were devoured one-by-one. And then, at what felt like the last moment, it stopped. I held onto my last pixel, REFUSED to give it up and the impossible happened. I changed fate.

But there wasn’t much joy in surviving. Between the x-program, the royal knights and digimon slaughtering each other for x-antibodies, my world was in ruins. I’m convinced I only survived at all because I was alone in the mountains, otherwise I would have been easy prey.

Somehow, I was able to find a small, almost in-perceivable tear in our world that led to the human world and so I fled and left everything behind.

I’d come to find later things you thought you left behind have a way of creeping back into your life.

- Hortense

#nova squawks #othervague #fictionfolk #alterhuman #nonhuman

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey. So, definitely a Cw for topics of dormancy.

I’m going to keep it short. Our host/core went dormant. And that’s something that’s really sitting with not only other people innerworld , but us people in front as well. It’s … distressing , really, and we don’t know what to do. We’ve been talking to the body’s mother in general today, and each time any of us say something to her, we can’t help but feel guilty. Her kid’s well, dormant — not that we could do anything about it, but still. We’re here, they’re not. It makes a lot of sense that we’ve been rapidly splitting though. We do that a lot with stress.

My question is; is there anything we can do to ease these feelings or distress or guilt? Is there anything to do to like - cope? Or deal with these feelings? Or how to make them feel welcome if/when they do come out of dormancy? Feel free to delete this if you are uncomfortable/can’t answer. Thank you.

- Eth.

Hi, Eth! We’re so sorry your system is going through something difficult like this. It can be challenging “losing” any system member to dormancy, let alone the host! But we do have some words of encouragement for y’all.

First, we’d like to make it clear that if you have a CDD, your body’s mother’s kid isn’t gone. In dissociative disorders, there is no “original,” “core,” or “main” alter, and each member is vital and important to the system as a whole! If your system is endogenic, however, this may not apply to you.

Second, we’d like to say that there is absolutely no reason for any member of your system to feel guilty due to another member going dormant. Quite often in systems, this is something that’s outside anyone’s control. Sometimes the brain just decides that a particular part or headmate isn’t needed anymore, and everyone else is left to deal with the aftermath. Adding shame or guilt onto the distress of losing a headmate to dormancy will only make matters worse for you and your system!

It’s important to remember that just because your host is dormant now, doesn’t mean you’ll never see them again! They may be dormant for a few days, weeks, months, or years, but there’s always a chance that they’ll return one day. Still, it’s okay to miss them, and it’s good and healthy to allow yourself and each of your headmates to grieve in your own ways.

The first couple weeks without your host may be particularly hard. Y’all may need to figure out who will maintain relationships, who will go to work or school, and who will take on the other duties your host used to do. Having an inside meeting with as many members as you can may allow y’all to divide tasks between the system. And here’s a few things to consider:

- Don’t try to compare how well your system is functioning to how well it functioned before the dormancy. It may be rough for y’all for a while, and that’s okay. Take things slowly and go one step at a time if you need to.

- Show extra patience to yourself and others inside. Different members may struggle with losing the host in different ways. Remember to listen to everyone and take everyone’s thoughts into account when making big decisions.

- Allow your system to mourn. Your host may not be dead, but we absolutely know it may feel like they are. Your headmates’ feelings have value and deserve to be felt, even if to others it seems silly or strange.

Finally, we’ll say we wish your whole system peace, rest, and comfort in this difficult time. Perhaps some resources for hospice patients, or those who are dealing with the loss of a loved one, may be beneficial to your system as a whole.

We hope something here will be beneficial for you. We’ll make a separate post which will be up later on how to help headmates post-dormancy. Good luck with everything, and please let us know if there’s anything we can do to help!

🌸 Margo and 🖋 Cecil

#dormancy #death mention

[totallyexhausted]

Random Sick Hirano (with his parents) Notes for my FF for Back-up

Just small notes on one of the ff’s in case my computer deletes the files again (so I have like a triple backup)...

(Just random-ass notes for right now to have a back-up back-up for myself) - feel free to comment or motivate me lol jk brb crying.... 

Title: 

Sick/ dinner, bath, arguing, AE, mom, dad/ eating, sick, day off, calls Kagi… Dad EMT, mother stay at home.

 Flashback, fight, feelings

Everything alright here, Kagiura?

Pft. This your boyfriend?

What? No, he’s-

It doesn’t matter who I am. Kagi? You good?

Y-yes. It’s fine, right, Tashaki?

He punches Kagi, Hirano tackles him.

 FH:

Sore muscles?

 Shit, how was he supposed to go back to normal after that?

 6a.m.

The phone rang several times before the younger boy picked up, and Hirano smiled as his voice filled his ear, thick from sleep, still fighting to stay awake.

“I’m not sure if you remember but its Saturday, and we’re on break, which means I don’t have practice…”

“Well, I want to make sure you aren’t forgetting the routine. Have to keep you on your toes, after all.”

The lines quiet for a few minutes, and Hirano wonders if Kagiura fell back asleep. He’s about to say something when rustling fills the other end of the line, and the younger boy whispers, “Hirano… what’s wrong? Your voice… are you not feeling well?”

He sounds more awake now.

Hirano winces as Kagiura’s words meet his ears. Of course the younger boy knew him well enough to know when something was off. He hadn’t known there was something wrong with his voice but given he hadn’t talked much over the past few days, he’d imagined it sounded rough, hoarse, weak.

“No, I’m fine,” Hirano says, “Sorry, I was sick, but I’m better.”

There’s a quiet pause again.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been sick since… Wednesday? My parents took me to A&E the other night. But I’m better now. I feel better now. I promise.”

Hirano isn’t exactly sure why he promised… it just felt right. Kaguira sighs, “You were at A&E? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You should have- I would’ve- well, I don’t know what I would have done, but it would have been something! You’re supposed to tell me when you’re sick, Hirano!”

“You’re really dense sometimes.”

“Well, you’re an idiot sometimes, so…”

“Great. The blockhead and the idiot.”

Hirano laughed, “Yeah, has a nice ring to it.”

 Part of him feels guilty. He’d be giving the younger the same lecture if it was the other way around.

 “I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“That’s okay. Could we… just talk until then?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Hirano can hear the smile in Kagiura’s voice.

  Blunt.

 “Is that why you didn’t tell us you didn’t feel well, son?”

“We spend so little time together now…”

“We’d rather know you’re okay and healthy than fret over some cancelled plans… idiot.”

Hirano glances up, a small smirk crossing his face as his father’s eyes meet his, the playful smirk setting on old features.

“I’ve been told I’m dense sometimes.”

“Well, that’s an understatement. Whoever said that must know you pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess… he does.”

His father’s quiet for a few minutes, “You’re lucky to have him, then… so don’t mess it up, Taiga.”

If he was being honest, he felt okay on the train; but the day progressed he just started feeling worse… He blamed Kagiura. He’d taken a stupid sip from his water bottle when the younger had offered. A day later, the stupid kid had gotten the stomach flu and basically spent the day in the bathroom trying to isolate himself from Hirano until the older dragged him out, demanding he sleep on a bed versus the floor… they’d gotten into an argument which ended with Hirano getting puked on and Kagi breaking down. But Kagi was always getting sick, so Hirano hadn’t really thought too much about it. Besides he always felt like shit after exams or was getting sick after them, too much stress and pressure, eating away at an exhausted mind…

 Her fingers running through Hirano’s blonde locks, brushing his bangs away from his blue eyes before tucking a few strands behind his ear. Truthfully, she hated the blonde hair and the earrings, but neither her nor her husband were going to stand in the way of Hirano expressing himself. Especially since he’d had such a hard time fitting in in middle school. It was heartbreaking to know he wasn’t the same kid they’d raised. He wasn’t open with others the way he used to be. Middle school hadn’t been kind to him… hadn’t been kind to a sweet boy. Because of that, Hirano learned to lock himself away, learned to keep his feelings inside, his thoughts, himself… until he broke, until he yelled or screamed or cried or fought… until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

 “These are new,” his mother said gently, ghosting her finger over the blue earrings. A gift from Kagi.

“He sounds sweet.”

 “He’s getting too old for you to carry.” His father just grunted in response.

 “Are you sure you feel okay, sweetheart?”

“Hm. Yeah, sorry… just tired,”

“Taiga.”

There’s firm hand pressed against his forehead, and Hirano feels the chopsticks fall from his fingers as his hand slips…

 Whatever happened next was a giant blur. Nauseating and hot..

“You need to take the meds, son.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order. A command.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll give you more water in a few minutes. We just really need you to keep this down.” There’s a tone of desperation in her voice that Hirano doesn’t like…

 Bits of conversation flying around him that meant nothing to him.

“If his temperature doesn’t start to drop in an hour, we’ll need to take him to the hospital.”

“I know… hopefully he can keep these meds down. I mean, it’s been over 12 hours, what else could his stomach have left to purge?”

“You should get some rest. I’ll take his temperature in 30 minutes and let you know if it’s moved. Besides if he gets sick again or if we need to take him to the hospital, I can carry his weight. Kid’s not as tall as me yet.”

 Fevered delirium he thinks of Kagiura.

 “Where did you go?”

“Go? I haven’t gone anywhere, sweetheart, I’m right here,”

“No. I mean, you said, since we’ve been back.”

“Oh,” his mother laughed softly, and Hirano closed his eyes briefly. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed her laugh…

“You don’t remember?”

 Cool fingers run through his hair, pushing blonde bangs away from his face before caressing his cheek, a thumb running along his cheekbone gently, and Hirano groans softly before opening his eyes.

“Sorry, honey, I needed to wake you so you could take some more meds,”

 Door creaks open, a hand pressed against the side of his neck, then his cheek--- Hirano instinctively reaches his hand out, grasping a wrist before opening his eyes. Kagi?

“Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came to check on you- you’ve been asleep for over 10 hours now.”

 “How about we get some food in you? Then maybe a nice shower so you can wash everything away? You can finish off the remaining meds, then go back to sleep. Sound okay?”

Hirano knew it wasn’t a command. He could refuse if he wanted, and his father wouldn’t argue with him, he wouldn’t chastise him, he wouldn’t push him… but walking, stretching his legs after laying around for so long sounded nice…  

 Hirano felt his face blush. His parents were always like this. They weren’t overbearing or suffocating… just kind and gentle and nice. They were always open with him, trusting him, not afraid to show their emotions or wear their heart on their sleeve… but they were a little older than most parents, and more passionate. They weren’t afraid to express themselves, express their emotions, something Hirano had tried and got bullied for in middle school.

He hadn’t found a balance and because of it was the constant target of fights and taunts in grade school. He remembers crying, yelling, screaming at his parents while they just sat there, letting him lash out, letting him take his anger out on them because it was their fault he was a pushover… at least that’s what he thought. What he told them. It was their fault he was getting bullied… they weren’t mad. Not then.

Eventually, Hirano learned to hide himself through a tough exterior. People tended to stay away from you if you looked like trouble… and the fact that he’d been in more fights than anyone in his class helped. He didn’t like fighting, and he’d tried to avoid it, but he learned to stand his ground, he learned how to take a punch… and how to give one.

By the time he reached high school, everything became easier. He’d dyed his hair, got piercings, managed to perfect a cold-hearted stare, and deflect a conversation, or at the very least, shut down a conversation he didn’t want to have. Middle school had taken him, a sweet boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and tormented him until he crafted a suit of armor others refused to mess with. He learned to close himself off; opening up to only those he trusted… but that circle was small. Really damn small.

 It wasn’t like Hirano could do no wrong in their eyes because God knows he’d fucked up more than he could count. Most of the time he was lectured; they talked about his actions, what he could have done differently, what he did and why he did it, and why he was being punished, then he’d accept his fate. But despite all the times he’d been grounded, or the time last year when he’d been brought home by the police for doing something stupid with Sasaki, Hirano had only been yelled at twice in his short existence. Once by his mother, the other, his father… both for fighting.

 Even when his father went through a depressive episode, Hirano tried returning the favor. He’d sit with him, sometimes talking, sometimes in quiet, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he leaned his back against the wooden headboard or sitting on the floor next to the couch, listening to the sound of his father breathing. He knew there wasn’t much he could do; that he could fix… when his father was having a low period… but he wanted him to know that if he needed Hirano, he was there. That although he might have felt alone, he wasn’t… or at the very least, he didn’t have to go through this alone.

           He’d become aware at a young age that his father dealt with depression. He was quieter sometimes, reserved, distant; his mother wasn’t. She was loud and brash, and she loved hugs… She’d explained to Hirano when he was 6 that sometimes, “Papa was just sad and there wasn’t much they could do to cheer him up.”

           It wasn’t until he reached middle school that Hirano understood what that sadness was. How it affected you. How it hurt you. He’d started sitting with his father just so he wasn’t alone. Most of the time, Hirano felt completely useless, and he fucking hated that. He hated feeling useless. Watching someone he cared about sick or hurt, and not being able to help…

 “You’re alright, son. It’s okay. Just get it up… your mother and I- we’ll clean you up. Don’t worry. You’re alright, son.”

 “I felt better.”

“You might have felt better,” his father chuckles softly, his grip still firm against Hirano’s shoulder, “Hell, you might feel better… but you’re still sick, son. Your body is still recovering. You haven’t eaten in a while, so your stomach isn’t used to the food…”

“I don’t want to,” Hirano shudders, swallowing again as he lurches, “I- I can keep- it down.”

 Hand on stomach.

 “Next time, we’ll try something different than rice porridge, okay?”

“Here, sweetheart, I made ginger tea. It’ll help settle your stomach.”

Hirano was mad at him and that was okay...

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #sick hirano #his parents #hirano taiga #kagiura akira