#which is nuts because sometimes there are like three hours between classes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

attempted--eloquence · 2 years

Text

Hello it’s me tossing out shit in my drafts again. I humbly present you a wacky thiam college campus coffee shop ficlet that i wrote sometime last year solely bc i had feelings about alt milk fees <3

CW: brief alcohol mention

Theo is three customers away from the coffee shop register nibbling on the crumbs of what was a banana nut muffin as he considers dropping a class just so he can eat a fucking lunch, for once. Third time this week that his anthro course hasn’t let out early enough to nab a ham and cheese quiche.

By the time he darted across campus, up two sets of stairs, and weaved in and out of a campus tour group, the order line for Stomping Grounds wound its way around the front counter, past the condiment station, and out the propped-open double doors with Theo at the tail end. His hopes for decent sustenance fled the coffee shop lunch rush in the hands of the ungodly patron that found it appropriate to not only buy the last quiche before Theo even made it inside the shop, but also to eat it grasped between their grubby hands like a fucking sandwich.

Absolute animal behavior.

So he settled. Claimed the dead last spot in the queue, after which no one joined presumably because of the egregious wait. Twiddled his thumbs through the twelve minutes it took for him to near the front of the line. Made himself unpleasant enough that the couple of classmates that spotted him idling didn’t stick around long for small talk. Snagged a banana nut muffin from the pastry case that, really, he tried not to eat until making it to the register.

But here, now, after a few more minutes of shuffling forward, the muffin’s been reduced to a few crumbs on the inside of a wrapper. He’s still hungry. And certain to be late to his four-hour neuro lab.

He really could’ve used that fucking quiche.

There’s only one barista on duty. Some disgruntled guy that Theo vaguely recognizes, usually works the closing shift. His face isn’t as twisted up and sullen then. And he usually offers up free leftover pastries and the gritty remnants of whatever’s in the coffee urns half an hour before closing. He’s real decent about letting Theo keep studying after hours while he counts down the register and cleans up, even though Theo’s certain that probably goes against some shop policy. Always locks the doors and sends him off with a genial “Have a nice night.”

But now, he’s got lunch rush fatigue written all over him. A thin sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead, cheeks flushed from espresso machine steam, eyes wide and frantic like he’s rapidly burning through both the patience and caffeine that have fueled his shift. His customer-service-smile has fully inverted into a permanent frown.

It’s contagious. His un-sunny disposition. Theo has witnessed the last five customers—at least—get all huffy about the slow service or the fact that the Earl Grey is out of stock or the lack of napkins at the condiment counter. And the alternative milk surcharge. Especially that.

Theo gets the discontent. Almost a dollar fee. For a different kind of milk. Sounds like the kinda thing they’d debate in his ethics class and come to the same conclusion as they do with all other hotly-discussed topics: yeah, the world’s kinda fucked up in general.

But he’s pretty sure the barista on shift didn’t single-handedly implement the policy—despite the fact that he’s taking all the heat for it—so Theo won’t be a dick about it. Even if he wants to. Just a little. Tracy said he’s gotta work on dismantling his natural air of hostility.

“Hey. What can I get for you.”

It’s less of a question and more of a dread-filled entreaty to hurry up and place an order while there’s a lull in activity.

“A banana nut muffin, and…a large oat milk latte,” Theo says. And just because the guy looks about ready to shove his hand in the coffee grinder, he tacks on a belated, “Please.”

“Sure. $5.90. Oat milk costs 75¢ extra, just so you know,” he replies, bitter-voiced as he jabs buttons on the POS system.

Disgruntled Barista Guy goes stiff at the blank expression on Theo’s face, takes on the demeanor of a preemptive flinch, like he is waiting for something worse than Theo’s shrug, outstretched hand gripping a $10 bill, and, “Yeah, I know. That’s fine.”

Look at him. All unhostile. Tracy would be proud.

“Okay,” he exhales, something like relief. He readjusts the lacrosse-stick-embroidered baseball cap on his head. “I’ll have that up for you in a second, Theo.”

Theo falters. He stuffs his $4.10 in change into the mostly empty tip cup that has FEED ME scribbled on the outside mostly as an apology for not knowing how the hell this guy knows him. Says, “Thanks.”

He squints at the plastic name tag pinned to his apron. Liam. He almost says it aloud, but the window to attach a name onto the end of his halfhearted display of gratitude has closed by the time he has concluded his internal debate about the merit of establishing rapport with someone who’d probably also rather not engage in humdrum small talk. Liam’s got his back to Theo, hunched over his latte cup. The edges of a tattoo peek out from beneath his shirtsleeve.

Ding ding ding. It’s a reminder.

This Liam, lunch rush grump Liam, isn’t just familiar from closing shifts. But from Scott’s potluck at the beginning of the quarter, which was really just a party that happened to have a meager smattering of appetizers to go along with all the alcohol everyone opted to bring.

Theo showed up after most of the snacks were gone but the drinks were plenty. Remembers his half-coherent rambling about wanting a tattoo. Skull with crown. Hazy memories of Liam drawing a sketch of it on his bicep with a silver sharpie. Stiles having to talk Theo out of booking an appointment right then and there and using Liam’s drawing as a reference photo. Right. That night—or, the awful morning after—is the reason he swore off strawberry lemonade Svedka for good.

He’s pretty sure it’s also the source of the one unrecognizable number in his text history. The only message from it was “dont wrory I googled it dude sharpies are nontoxic ook” that probably went unanswered by Theo because he passed out beside the toilet in his bathroom the moment he got back to his apartment.

Huh.

Liam places his drink on the counter with a grin that’s less customer-service-y and more friendly. Says, “See you around.”

Theo retrieves the latte, double-takes. There’s a hasty scrawl of near-illegible words trailing around the circumference of the cup. A ballpoint pen ramble that covers the cup’s surface from top to bottom.

Most of the baristas here draw little doodles on the cups. A smiley face or cartoony mug of coffee with squiggly lines to represent steam. Maybe a “have a nice day!” if they’re feeling particularly chipper.

Not Liam.

Listen, I find the convention of upcharging customers for alternative milks ridiculous and unreasonable considering the vendor prices for these milks are only marginally higher than that of dairy milk so really, non-dairy drinkers are getting scammed for their shitty digestive systems or dietary preferences.

Theo reaches the bottom of the cup. And yet, not the end of the rant, which continues on the drink sleeve Liam had slid across the counter with his order.

Personally, I prefer to upcharge based on how much of an asshole a particular customer is when they order. It’s a much fairer system than capitalism, I think.

There’s an arrow pointing to the other side of the cup sleeve. Theo glances up at Liam, who's got his hands buried in soapy water, washing a sink full of dishes. Real casual like he didn’t just spew his pent-up dairy product industry frustration on an innocent bystander. Theo would be lying if he said he didn’t respect the effort. He flips the sleeve over.

P.S. I didn’t charge you extra for oat milk

P.P.S. Thanks for the tip, you get first pick of stale pastries if you’re here at closing later

Something in Theo’s stomach flutters. Could be butterflies. Or maybe it’s his shitty digestive system.

Half of a person’s caffeine intake is eliminated from the body within six hours of consumption—sometimes neuroscience classes provide more practical knowledge than the redundant lessons on the functionality of the human eyeball—which means his awful caffeine dependence will be in full force soon after his lab ends.

Maybe Theo will swing by the closing shift. Just for the free coffee and stale pastries. That’s all.

#I didn’t realize i had so many nearly-finished mini fics in my drafts that i just abandoned #wrote this before i started posting fic stuff on tumblr n i didn’t want to put it on ao3 so it simply faded into obscurity on my drive #until now!#this was absolutely me just creating a very niche thiam-ized retelling of my own barista experiences akdfskjh #thiam #thiam fic #thiam au

93 notes · View notes

aliasimagines · 3 years

Text

It Was You All Along // Dave Lizewski

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Can u write dave x fem!reader where reader Always had a crush on him but he kinda ignored reader bc of Katie but then someone popular asks reader out and he gets jealous and y/n dresses up super hot and he realizes he fucked up

word count: 1809

a/n: i hope this is close enough! ❤️ (i couldn't think of a different title but this one reminds me of Agatha All Along xd)

"Hey, Dave! My folks are gone for the weekend and I thought we could have an X-men watch party. Wanna come?"

"Sorry I can't, I'm hanging out with Katie."

"Again?" you ask a bit louder than intended,causing a few people to look at you in the hallway. You continue with a lower voice "Aren't you like, tired of all the lying? Like, what if she finds out that you're not actually gay, hm? Cause you know she will, eventually."

"Why do you care so much?!" Dave says, clearly frustrated.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Oh why would I? Maybe because we have been best friends since diapers, you stupid asshole!" you say not caring if some students hear you or not, anymore. "But you know what, you are right. I shouldn't care. Go play pretend with Katie but don't come to me, crying when you end up getting your heart broken."

"Don't worry, I won't." he snaps back. And you turn around and leave but not before flipping him off. You felt the angry tears rolling down your cheeks as you zigzagged between the chattering teenagers.

You couldn’t believe how Dave could be so blind! He only had eyes for Miss Perfect. Whom by the way, is a real bitch and would go back to ignoring Dave or calling him a freak if it wasn’t for his little gay act.

Somehow you made your way over to the restroom and locked yourself into one of the booths.

Dave couldn’t even see you as a potential “love-interest”. Eventhough you were the one who always were there for him, you were always there when he called, running to him like a lost puppy. And he couldn’t even care less. And you hate him for it. But you hate yourself more for still liking him.

It’s not like you can do something about it, if you could, you would have. But that’s not how it works, so you are just crying your guts out on the toilet trying not to think about Dave.

In all honesty, you have no idea how you made it through the day. You almost cried during biology but you caught yourself after a few lonely tears. You could feel Dave’s gaze on you but there was no way you would look at him. As soon as the last bell rang you were out of school, hurring past Tod and Marty, not being in the mood for them either.

The next day wasn’t any different, you didn’t hang with Dave, Tod and Marty like you normally do. You didn’t sit with them at lunch, instead walked over to the only empty table you saw and placed your tray there. You mounched on your food, completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear the chair next to you being pulled out. You look up to see Matthew Greendale, resident hottie of the school sit next to you.

"Hey, sorry, it's not a problem if I sit here, right?" he asks. You eyed him suspiciously.

"No, it's fine."

It's fine?! You mentally scold yourself. You never even spoke to this guy, outside of literature in first year. Why would he sit next to you?

"I didn't want to sit with all the other "popular jocks" he answered you unspoken question while taking a bite of his canteen-hamburger. “They’re fun and everything but it’s nice to get away from them sometimes.”

You think of your friends who are sitting a few tables away and you can’t help but agree with Matthew.

“Yeah, I feel you.” you say without thinking.

“Hey..We used to sit next to each other in freshman year, didn’t we? It’s y/n ,right?”

You nod with a smile, honestly being surprised that he remembers you.

“Yeah!”

“I haven’t really seen you around a lot. But when I do you are always hanging with those comic book nerds.”

“Hey! Comics are great.”

He puts his hands up in a defense.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean it as an insult. Some comics are good, my little brother made read one last month. It was actually great.”

“What comic was it?”

“Oh, uhm..It was about some kind of blind dude in a devil costume.”

“Daredevil?” you ask with a giggle.

“Yes, that one!” he laughs too.

The two of you continue talking until the end of lunch break. He is surprisingly fun to talk to and he even offers to walk you to your next class after lunch. You had such a good time you didn’t even think about Dave, heck, you didn’t even notice him literally glaring daggers into Matthew.

“What’s up with you, dude?” Tod asks snapping Dave out of it.

“Yeah, Dave. What the shit is going on with you and Y/N?” Marty asks too.

Dave forrows is eyebrows. Yes, what the shit is going on with the two of you? Every since yesterday's 'fight' with you he can't stop thinking. About how he spends most, if not all of his time either with being Kick-Ass or, rather with Katie. It used to be different. He spent every second with you and he just threw you away so he could maybe get laid. And sure, Katie may be hot as fuck but she is.. Well, she is not you.

"We had a fight, yesterday. I.. And she was right." he explains with a grimace. "But why the fuck is that Greendale asshole is with her?"

"You jealous or something, dude?"

"Wha- Of course I am not jealous! Why would I be? You guys are nuts."

Jealous… The word rolled around in his mouth like a new flavored milkshake he never tasted before.

Could he be… Jealous? He never thought of you that way, you were always his best friend. Just that. But.. The more he thinks about it the more he can't stop that twist like feeling in his stomach.

That night he can't focus on crime fighting. All his thoughts are tied to you. Whether he likes it or not, memories of you keep popping up in his mind. How didn't he notice your beautiful smile before? And your laugh? It's like a beautiful melody. And… Gosh! When did he become such a sappy teenager? Oh and another thing.. He kept trying to think of something else, anything else like Katie for example but he doesn't care anymore!

Dave goes home early with a frustrated growl. The remaining hours of the night he spends with tossing and turning and daydreaming instead of sleeping.

(the next afternoon, Atomic Comics)

Dave bangs his head against the wood table once again. A tired groan leaves his lips when he hears Tod almost choking on his iced coffee.

"What the tunk, Tod?" Marty and Dave ask almost at the same time. The dirty blonde haired boy keeps pointing outside the huge window that they are sitting next to at Atomic Comics.

"Is that fucking y/n?!"

Now all three of them look outside the shop and see you, all dressed up nad seemingly waiting for someone.

"Holy fuck!" Dave whispers. He stares at you, with his mouth a gap before jumping up from the booth they were sitting at and rushing outside the store.

"Y/n! Y/-" he yells almost tripping on thin air.

"Dave?" you question, quickly turning towards him. Damn, you missed him. No! Yeah, you did… "What do you want?"

"What do I- What, can't I talk to you?"

"If you wanted to talk you would have in these past days!" you say. Yes, you might have missed him, but it's not like you're gonna show it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am waiting for my date to show up."

"Your.. Your what, now?!"

"My date"

"You can't go on a date!"

"And why is that, Lizewski?"

"Lizewski? Really, you're calling me by my surname? Are we in such a bad place right now?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you going to tell me what i can and can't do, hm?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I just…"

"What, it's fine when you say it but when I do it with you about Katie I'm the bad friend?"

"No,it's just-"

"Sorry. Matt's here." you point to the street across the road where you saw the boy walk towards you. "I gotta go."

You start walking away but Dave grabs your wrist.

"Please, don't." he mumbles.

"Why not?" you snap at him but your expressions soften upon your eyes land on his saddened face.

"I- because I don't want you with him. O-or anyone."

You raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

He took a deep breath before looking around. Matt was waiting patiently by the traffic light so he could cross the road. Dave quickly began explaining.

"You were right. About Katie. I was such a dickhead, I am so sorry, y/n. I am sorry for ignoring you over her and and.." from the corner of his eye he sees the traffic light turn green. "Shit! I don't want you to go out with Greendale cause I.. Because I like you. Like really fucking like you. And oh my god you look so fucking hot in this outfit, not that you're not always hot but holy shit. I know we are just friends and you don't think of me that way but I ju-"

"Oh my god! Do you ever shut up?" you yell before pressing your lips to his. Dave stumbled back a little, but quickly recovered and kissed back. Your hands cupped his face and his hands grabbed your waist in response. You both tilled your heads, deepening the kiss earning loud knocking from Marty and Tod as they watched the whole scene through the window. Not that you noticed any of it. You didn't hear the passing by car honk at you nor the yells or whistles. You also did not notice Matthew walking away with a sad smile after seeing the two of you. Your touches intertwine and you're pretty sure you heard Dave moan slightly which causes you to giggle into the kiss. You both pull away gasping for air. You look down at your shoes, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. Dave scratches his back and looks around nervously only to see his two idiotic friends making kissy faces. He lifts his middle finger for them before clearing his throat.

"So.. Khm.. I guess you like me too?"

You let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I do." you say looking at him with a smile.

"That's.. Fuck. That's great." he replied genuinely happy. "Wanna get out of here?"

You nod and you take off. You take Dave's hand and he intertwines your fingers with a smile. Maybe he is truly a superhero. He helps people and he gets the girl of his dreams. The happy ending.

Dave Lizewski taglist : @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff

#dave lizewski x reader #Dave lizewski one shot #dave lizewski imagine #kick ass imagine #kick ass x reader #kick ass one shot #gif not mine #aaron taylor johnson #alias imagines

1K notes · View notes

bloomyn · 3 years

Text

phonetics ; kagami taiga

pairing: kagami taiga x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

synopsis: there’s something about three syllable sentences that worm their way into your heart.

featuring; minor unrequited love, grammar, other girls that aren’t you, bad characterization, a whole lot of being dumb, and a happy ending

-> i wrote this in two hours during my peer tutoring class please don’t murder me; i saw .5 seconds of him during the netflix trailer and busted the phattest emotional nut

This is how your story begins

You’re five and on the top of a slide, it’s sticky with sweat and electric on your skin but you can’t go down, not yet. There is no way you’re going to give the kid behind you the satisfaction, not until he says please.

“Say. it.” you demand, your hands gripping the side of the slide tighter. the space between his eyebrows scrunch together, like an inchworm, the type you learned about in class only a few days ago. “just say it. it’s not that hard. only one syllable.”

Your mother would scold you for that sass, but she’s too far away to hear and quite frankly too far to see your current predicament.

“No. see, that’s one syllable.”

And yes you know that violence is never the way, (that’s also what you learned about at your school, the same day as the inchworms), and that maybe there is a verbal way to resolve this agreement, but the thing is, your five year old brain is tired of using words. and so this is the part where you resort to fists, tiny fingers that gripped the side of the slide ball up slowly and then.

The sky is down. down? and no your hands aren’t on the slide they’re trying to brace your fall from down the slide and all you can see is a muddled red face before you hit the ground crying.

→

Here’s the thing about parks, technically, technically, their public property. So that means, technically, technically, just about anyone can show up and play. It’s terrible. It’s especially terrible when the only person on the playground to play with is also the one that pushed down the slide (quite aggressively! you might add) only a week ago. If there was ever any violent tendencies that lay dormant in those tiny hands of yours they might as well have been awakened.

But instead of fighting, or attempting to fight, someone who looks like they could be the kids mother ushers said kid in your direction.

and instead of a “No.” being spit in your direction you get an,

“I’m sorry. Three syllables, see. I said it.”

and a hesitant hug, awkward and gangly.

And so it begins.

→

“If you’re going to be stupid like this I’m going to stop showing up.” you sigh, taking a seat on the bench, cringing at the scent of sweat and rubber. Beside you, a messy bundle of red hair lays splayed on the hard metal, a rough hand wiping the sweat out of his face. “Hello, is Kagami home? Or do I really have to stop showing up till you remember you need me. ”

A groan leaves his chapped lips and an arm extends across your lap. “ Did you bring it at least?”

You surrender the plastic bag, watching the steam rising from his body melt the ice. It’s disgustingly sensual and for a split second you can almost imagine what the girls interested in him think. Unfortunately they’ve never seen him like you have, bloody noses and sweat, black stains from the court staining his dirty clothes, and just going through middle school in general. It sends shivers up your arms. Gross. He pushes himself backwards, lifting his head up onto the hem of your skirt.

“You’re just so sweaty, all the time.” you sigh, wiping a handkerchief across his forehead.

The sight of the two of you is one to behold.

It’s always been to Kagami at least, which is a surprise considering that the only things he really cares to look at anymore is game highlights and illicit magazines that he really only gets away with buying because of his height. To be fair it’s not like he really reads the magazines anyway, not without getting distracted, not without the guilt that comes with thinking of you, during, ah, certain periods of time. He’s gross, he knows, and here you are, walking a mile in the summer heat because his ankle was too dead to get ice and there’s no one to watch #2 if he leaves. (fucking Kuroko he swears)

He can see the soft outline of your jaw like this, laying down. He can see the way your tongue casually glosses over your lips and and the way it seems like you're blinking in slow motion, he can see your lashes gently brush your face when you blink. It’s a goddamn sickness.

Now usually, when this happens, when this wave of amorous nausea fills his head he does what he’s best at, absolutely destroying the court. But in the few steam filled moments between his attempt to get up and realizing he has to get up or he might vomit hearts all over the floor, you’ve already pressed the palm of your hand into his shoulder.

“Don’t think you can get up, stupid. Your ankle looks like a purple yam for goodness sakes. Gross. ”

He’ll hold onto the spare bit of affection in your words till you give him more, which you will, because you’re like this. Stubborn and loving, and always seemingly annoyed with him. He won’t mind, he never does.

→

It’s not until the end of third year that he realizes he does, he does mind. He minds all the damn time now.

“Don’t complain now that I’m not giving you all my attention,” you had scolded, “You’re the one with a girlfriend Ka-chan.”

“You don’t even bring me ice anymore!”

A shitty retort indeed but, true nonetheless.

“Kagami,” you had warned, “It might not be a great idea for me to bring you stuff anymore. Think about your girlfriend! How is she going to feel, another woman bringing her boyfriend what he needs.”

There was no response back this time. In his defense, Lisa hated the smell of basketball, “it sticks to you!”

Which he thought she might’ve considered before confessing but, semantics. There was nothing wrong with Lisa, she might’ve been everything he looked for in a woman. Hot, decently smart, very, very good looking on his arm, and she loved the attention too. Except her lips were too sticky, and she hated the smell of the gym, and he could go on and on making up petty excuses because she wasn’t the one who demanded that he say “please” on the playground.

(He’s just picky!) His brain argues!

It takes three more girls until he realizes they’re not you.

→

There is a brief moment in time where you fall for Kagami Taiga. There is a moment so small it slivers past you in the form of iced plastic bags and steaming windows in the gym. But the moment isn’t so small that no one around you notices. It isn’t so small when your best friend goes through three different girlfriends in a moment that doesn’t even make it through a set of nails. Not one nail chips.

It’s an odd moment. Only, at the end of this moment, there is no return to normalcy, there is no getting over it, there is another one waiting for you to leave those chipped nails and iced plastic bags behind.

It starts with praise and glimmer pop of jealousy.

→

“Absolutely not.”

“ You can’t argue an opinion you can’t even have, Taiga.” It comes out nastier than you want and you kick yourself for it. He catches it, the grimace waiting on your face and the quiver in your eye. The two of you are waning, stuck to your respective places in his living room, movie paused. There is a chance you will cry, but a more realistic chance that this will end in useless fight, that the aching silence between the two of you will become your shield against a barrage of his angry glares.

This might be the only chance you ever feel what it’s like when he’s in the zone, except you're not a five man team (with subs) , you’re a teenage girl with goddamn feelings. It’s the playground all over again, but this time you won’t be pushed.

“He’s a fucking player.” his voice raises at the end and the tense in your calf sharpens. “He’s a disgusting shitty haired player, how are you being so stupid right now?”

By the time he’s done he’s yelling. The two of you have argued sure, but never... not like this.

“I’m allowed to be dumb sometimes!” you breathe, “ Look at you Taiga, how you are not the same as him? It takes you weeks, days, to get a new girl. How in the world are you even qualified to be talking to me about this.”

It takes half a second for his eyes to narrow, sharper than his looks and for a moment you stagger back. It takes even less time for you to grab your bag and leave.

You’re not angry, not for the right reason. This boyfriend is going to end in heartbreak, it’s a given, even Kagami knows this. But you can’t help yourself, this might only be a blip in time, it won’t matter in a year right? It won’t matter when Kagami finds himself wrapped around another girl, too busy to even remember what day of the week it is.

And it kills you.

You’re killing him.

There is never a moment where everything is clear, unless he’s playing one on one, but this isn’t him versus you. This is him versus himself, a freaky nightmare he only dreamt about in middle school; and you’re not someone he wins by dunking on. It’s the type of win where he has to lose a little bit of something too. The type of win that he’s been avoiding.

→

Your house has been the same for years, flower boxes on the front porch, a few twigs on the lawn, less than a thousand steps from his own place, somewhere he could sleep walk to. It’s never bothered you, he was your best friend, how could you complain about living so close?

Well, you’re complaining now.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes are drilling into the ground, fingers fidgeting like a boy, like a child who’s never had to say sorry before. Even so, you love him, so you relent, allowing yourself to lean on the doorway, absolutely oozing casually (ty?) (ness?) You can’t think.

“Three syllables. Thanks.”

The visible sigh of relief warms your achy breaky heart and absolutely tears into your soul. The grip on your heart he holds falls loose, unveiling the mismatched pieces that you’ve been forcing together for years. And for a moment you feel weak to it.

“ You should,” he starts, gnawing on his bottom lips this time, “be with who you want. So, I’m sorry.”

It’s exasperating, but even if it is, Kagami Taiga is the most stubborn man you know so these words no doubt are being pulled out like teeth and you love him all the same.

→

To Kagami’s surprise (and disappointment), a year later you are still quite in love with the man you call your boyfriend. But to his own sick delight, the two of you are fighting (again).

“So you’re here.”

You nod, pushing the door to his bedroom open and slipping yourself under his covers. If he was anyone but himself he might’ve looked down, seen what was going on and promptly collapsed onto his knees. But, willpower is a strong suite of his (thank god), so he takes a seat on the foot of the bed.

“ Kagami, you can say it.” you mumble from beneath his covers. At your words his eyebrows scrunch and his knuckles tighten around the blanket. You’re not provoking him, just asking for the honesty he carries on his shoulders.

“Ah, well.”

You shift the blanket off, propping yourself against the headboard. It’s only then that he can see the old tear tracks down your face.

“ I’m glad you’re here ya know. With me. Here.”

The last part is a whisper, one you catch.

One you can only sigh with.

“ You can’t say that Kagami.”

“It’s true.”

It feels like a lifetime has passed by the time you gather the courage to look up at him, up at those deep red eyes that give away every emotion that passes through him. You don’t think can hurt you, not anymore than he has. Not with the hands that have held you up and stuck bandages on your knees and not with the heart that cared for you so deeply. He wouldn’t dare.

But the sun is setting between the two of you, and the radiant glow only illuminates your features. You have to remember that he is only man, only human, and humans are easily seduced into stupid things by the sun.

“ I love you.”

The delicate words aren’t voluntary, nor are they forced. It’s the space inbetween that pushes someone in the right direction, whether they know it or not.

“ Three syllables Taiga.”

He watches you untangle yourself from the bed and take your place beside him. Carefully, he drops his hand in your lap, palms up and clammy. Slowly, you place your hand in his, taking up the space between his fingers.

“Four syllables. That’s what you get.” you shake, squeezing his fingers.

It takes him about two seconds to understand what you mean.

And he does.

→

#knb x reader #kagami x reader #kagami taiga x reader #kagami taiga scenario #kagami scenario #taiga x reader #did u miss me #knb scenarios #knb fic #knb fluff

116 notes · View notes

diplexchimera · 3 years

Text

Hey people considering college-

I have some tips for you. Now, take into consideration that I am technically a college drop-out (didn't have enough money for a second semester).

- my college required Freshman to be in a campus dorm. We got to select whether we preferred someone quiet, someone loud, or someone in between. In my experience, someone loud = an extrovert who will have many people visit them, someone quiet = a person who prefers to keep their room more private, and someone in between = a person who wants their roommate to be okay with a noisy room & people over, but also wants to be able to say they need quiet time (or they aren't sure what they want, but want neither a silent room or a busy room).

- if you have to eat from the cafeteria, that's okay. They tend to have a wider selection anyway but! I would suggest memorizing the breakfast/lunch/dinner availability hours. Some schools are very strict, and will lock the doors which = a skipped meal for you.

-I would also suggest getting the app 'MyPlate Calorie Tracker'. College meals will most likely be different than what you've eaten at home and school. The MyPlate app is pretty simple, and can help you make sure you're getting the right amount of food into yourself, as opposed to too much or too little. If I remember correctly, it also keeps track of how much protein and stuff your food is supplying you.

- sugars, fats, calories, and carbs are not bad for you. Your body requires them. Your brain literally will not function if you cut out any one of those items. Remember, you don't need to avoid being fat, you need work today being healthy. Your body will sort itself out (over time dude, give it time) if you supply it with the necessary nutrients and such.

- dude, vitamins. They can be expensive, but if you have insurance, ask your doctor how much of every vitamin you should be having. They can tell you, give you a list, and they can ask your insurance if vitamins are covered. If you can't get to a doctor, try to do research. Here is one from Harvard that I think is good, but you should always cross check things. Getting all the vitamins and minerals you need is exceedingly important. They help you go to sleep, stay asleep, and wake up, help your brain and body to function and adjust, help keep you feeling healthy and happy. If you feel tired and depressed, it can be really difficult to accomplish tasks and enjoy/ appreciate being alive.

- I would not suggest starting your year by completing assignments before the start date of said assignments. For one, doing assignments as they come helps you get a feel for a natural schedule. Another reason is because it helps to be in the moment, instead of too far ahead to be able to keep track of what's going on and when. Wait until you have a hang of how and where to research, and a firm idea of how much you can hold onto mentally, so you don't fail tests. You'll also likely feel guilty later on when you begin to struggle to stay ahead as assignments get longer and more difficult.

- yo if you can get a used textbook that comes as a three ring binder instead of a hard or soft back, do it. It's cheaper, and so much easier to handle and copy. Heck, you can even take the pages out of the section you're using and put them in a folder -- boom, no more 40lb back pack. Also makes more room in any bag you use for the essentials, which I'll list next.

- here are some backpack essentials:

• earbuds, Bluetooth if possible. It's okay to have more than one type of listening device. "I prefer headphones!" You say. You can't hide over-the-ear headphones if you end up in a classroom which doesn't allow something like that. Sometimes you're just having a sucky day, sometimes you need extra stimulation to concentrate, sometimes you want to spend your time listening to a podcast that explains the current subject better than your teacher does. Sometimes you want to watch a movie casually. Earbuds also take up MUCH less space.

• an extra charging cable for every portable device you use. Roll them up, and secure each one individually with cable ties or bread bag twist ties. I say extra, as in, keep your original cords in your dorm room and Don't Take Them out. Get a secondary cable and charger for each device, and let them live in your backpack.

• 3 or 4 different colors of pen. Multiple colors, for whatever reason you want-- easily scanned notes, for different subjects, etc. These can serve a variety of purposes, and you never know when you need them.

• 3 regular pencils, and a good hand sharpener or silent mechanical sharpener. 3 in case the other two get broken lead or happen to suck. Regular pencils can be finicky.

• 2 mechanical pencils. 2 in case one of them fails, runs out of lead, or the lead breaks up.

• decoy pens and pencils! Get as cheap or expensive as you want. At some point, someone is likely to ask for one, and you don't want someone else using your favorites. You also may not get them back, or they get broken. I would suggest a couple of each, as it may happen in more than one class. You don't have to have decoys, but that way, at least you don't have to choose between either feeling guilty for not loaning out the items you like, or being uncomfortable that you did have to loan one. If you loan the decoys out, and don't get any back, and someone asks you for a utensil later that day, you have both a convenient reason you don't have an extra you're willing to share, and you already put the minimum effort towards being prepared.

• Water! You're going to get so dang dehydrated! You're going to have full days, much of the time, from trekking across campus, to class time, to meal times, to study time, to hang out time -- you need to have water with you, as opposed to having to track it down, and possibly have to pay for a bottle of water. Hydration is a main component in bodily functionality and brain processes. I would suggest a minimum of a 30-ish ounce container of any sort. A plastic water bottle you refill, a thermos, a sippy cup, a hydro flask, a camp flask, whatever works for you.

• I would say snacks. If you're eating meals throughout the day, I guess they aren't "technically" essential, but can confidently say, they are useful. Snacks can be an energy boost, a brain function boost, a hunger soother, a friend-maker, or just plain stimulation. Cut up some apple slices, maybe grab some peanut butter, or a portion of nuts, or a tangerine, crackers, pretzels, chips, the choice is yours. It helps if you can get ahold of some of those cheap reusable silicone ziplock baggies. You can wash them to be used again, and you don't have to deal with carrying plastic trash around with you.

• a pair of socks. I know that sounds weird, but it doesn't take up much space, and weird stuff happens. They get wet, or it's hot and your feet get sweaty and yucky, or food get spilled on your feet. Stuff happens.

• b12 tablets. They work with your system in a healthy way, as opposed to caffeine, and does the same trick. Just follow the directions on the bottle, and may I suggest, start with half the recommended dose. It affects different people more or less. My husband takes the recommended two, while I only need a half. We both have adhd, and are closely similar in body weight. If you need a wake up boost, don't slam your system with caffeine.

• baby wipes. You can get a small pack, and they can help clean up almost anything. Someone spill sticky tea? Got it. Fell and scraped a knee, and it has dirt all over it? Baby wipes and a little water. Need to blow your nose, and there are no tissues, or just feel like you need to rinse your face off in class? You're covered.

• chapstick is a very small item, but Lordy Lord if those classrooms aren't parched of all moisture in the air. You gone get cracked, chapped lips.

That's kinda it for now on backpack essentials. There is definitely more you could have, so supplement whatever helps you. You could add a hairbrush or comb, a hat and rain jacket for cold weather times, sunscreen during the hot times, hair ties and bobby pins, etc. It's all for you pal.

- keep in touch with your professors. Make yourself known to them. An occasional casual compliment is often helpful, and a good way to connect (you explained stuff really well today/your teaching style is helpful/I appreciated you taking time to answer my questions). They are people after all.

- if you have stuff going on, let your professors know. If your pet is sick at home and you're worried about them, give your professors a heads-up that you may seem less attentive that week, but that it isn't disinterest. If you figure out you have depression, and you're struggling to complete assignments/sleep/wake-up, tell them. Let them know you don't expect special treatment, you just wanted them to know that it isn't due to immaturity or lack of interest.

- always do studying and homework first. If you're able to accomplish these things while with friends, that's great, but if you can tell you're struggling, prioritize schoolwork. You'll have time for fun stuff later, usually later that evening.

- it's okay to drop a class. In fact, if you severely dislike a class, don't understand the coursework, or you realize you've taken on too much at once, it's better for your overall wellness and your grades if you drop it. If you have a professor suggest you drop a class in mean way, don't feel like you have to prove them wrong. This is your experience, and they can stuff it for being a rude brat. You don't need to prove yourself to them, and you cannot control their thoughts or actions.

- try to take classes that happen twice a week, which start later in the day than 8 am, at least for your first semester. There is a lot going on in college. A lot of changes to acclimate to. Take it a little easier at first, to give yourself time to work out what all is where, and how everything works.

Well, that's the end of 'dip's (college) tips' for now.

#dip shares stuff #stuff to know #dip's tips #college

19 notes · View notes

nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

Text

A Sick Hope

"Great! I'll be there in ten!" I hung up the phone, jumping off the sofa. I grabbed my (F/C) backpack from the coffee table and made my way into mine and Nagito's shared bedroom. It was going to be the first time I'd be seeing my best friends in a while. Between finals coming up and wedding preparations for me and Nagito, we barely even had time to breath. Luckily Sonia invited all her closest girlfriends to her place to blow off some steam before finals week, which many of them agreed to

One of them happened to be me!

As I was stuffing my pjs and my toothbrush into my backpack, I felt a pair of skinny arms snake around my waist. I yelped at the sudden pressure placed on my stomach, but turned my head, seeing my fiance. As I sighed in relief, I let go of my backpack strap, letting it gently plop on the bed

"Ah, there's my angel of hope," Nagito chuckled lightly, planting a gently kiss on my cheek. I smiled only for a split second before prying away from his arms, slapping his arm gently

"You idiot! You don't usually get off classes this early! I thought you were a robber or something," I scolded him, pouting. As I crossed my arms, the white haired boy frowned, sulking

"I'm so sorry, my angel. I didn't mean to upset you," He sniffled, looking down. I mentally sighed to myself. Nagito and I have been together for almost five years and he still goes on about how someone as beautiful and hopeful as me shouldn't be so blind to date a piece of trash like him. Well, better shut him up before he goes on his usual "I don't deserve you" rant, no matter how many times I assure him

I placed a kiss on his lips, smiling gently at him. "Nagito, I was joking. But you did startle me. It's not even 6 yet and you usually get home from your night classes at 8:30. What happened?" I asked him. His face light up again, relieved that I wasn't mad at him anymore. He crossed his arms, smiling at me

"My professor ended early since we're ahead of the syllabus. But enough about me. Where is my angel of hope going tonight?" He asked, pointing to my backpack

"Oh, Sonia called me and a few of our friends. We're going to have a sleepover at her place to blow off some steam before finals," I explained, grabbing the straps of it again. I double checked that I had everything I needed as Nagito grabbed a water bottle from the table, taking a sip from it

"I see. I hope you girls have fun. But you'll text me once you get there, right? Oh! And please stay safe, alright? I can't have anything happening to my ray of hope. I know you're allergic to nuts so double check with Sonia if the food you have has any. Oh! And if you feel sick, and Mikan isn't there, call me and I'll be there t--"

I shushed Nagito with a peck on his lips, chuckling. I shook my head, knowing damn well after all this time, Nagito was still overprotective of his 'angel of hope'. I couldn't really blame him though. I don't say that to sound conceited, but besides Hajime and sometimes Chiaki, I was basically his only support system. To say he was a bit clingy was an understatement. For the first few weeks of us dating, I would've been lucky if he let me use the bathroom

"Marshmallow, don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. Sonia knows all my allergies and Mikan will be there in fact. So I'll be A-okay!" I smiled, slinging my backpack across my shoulders. Nagito smile, kissing my forehead

"Alright, whatever you say, angel. But please text me when you get there atleast," He pleaded, throwing his own backpack onto a chair. I promised him one last time before slipping on my converse sneakers, heading out

***********************************************************************************************

"(Y/N)! It's been so long! How have you've been?" Sonia welcomed me into her home with a warm smile and open arms. Since we finished Hope Peaks Academy, Sonia decided to settle down in Japan for a little while longer to go to college with her friends. Her apartment wasn't far from mine and Nagito's. Which also meant that it didn't look anything out of the ordinary from a normal apartment. Well, Sonia did say that she wanted to be treated like a normal girl

"Hey Sonia! I've been great, thanks for asking. Well....aside from school and the whole...learning thing," I chuckled, as I set my backpack down on the floor. I saw Mikan, Ibuki, and Chiaki all sitting on her couch, bundled in a bunch of blankets, watching Mean Girls on the TV. Ibuki was the first one to notice me and hollered to me

"YOOOO-HOOO!!! (Y/N), Ibuki is so glad you made it! Sit with us!" She patted an extra space for me on the couch, right between her and Mikan. I chuckled at Ibuki being...well Ibuki, but gladly accepted her offer, squeezing myself between them

"Hey girls, did I miss anything?" I asked them, as Ibuki handed me a bowl full of white cheddar popcorn. Mikan smiled lightly, shaking her head

"Not at all, (Y/N). We just popped in the movie before you came," Mikan gleamed happily, but her rare cheerful expression was replaced with her usual anxious face in a moment

"O-Or we can pick out a-another movie for you, (Y/N)! OH! Or do a-anything you want to do, (Y/N)! It was stupid of me to assume you even wanted to watch a movie in the first place! Please f--"

"Mikan, please relax. That is nothing to stress over. I'd be more than happy to watch Mean Girls," I calmed my close friend down, as I gently took the popcorn bowl from the musician

As I was reaching for a greedy handful of popcorn, I felt a sudden pain spike across my forehead. I winced, pressing three fingers to it. My slight grimace was apparently enough to snap the gamer girl, who was playing Super Mario Brothers on her Nintendo Switch, look up at me.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" Chiaki asked, pausing her game. Sonia frowned too, seeing me press my hand against my head

"Yeah. I heard you suck in a breath, (Y/N). I hope you're alright," she said, kneeling down to the side of me. She offered me a can of ginger ale, which I smiled and took

"Thank you for your concern, girls. But I'm fine. Really," I assured them, gently peeling off my hand from her forehead. Mikan's nervous expression quickly returned to her face, hearing my side

"E-Excuse me for interrupting, but you don't really sound so confident, (Y/N). If you really aren't feeling well, you should rest for a bit," she suggested. Before I could reassure her once more, she squeaked, blushing

"Eep! I'm so sorry, (Y/N)! I didn't mean to call you out on lying. I understand if you totally hate me and never want to—"

"Mikan, Mikan, calm down. I'm okay, I promise. And besides, even if I did have a little headache, that won't stop me from having a great time with my girls!" I cheered, pumping my fist. This caught Ibuki's attention as she encouraged the sleepover to go on as well

"Now that's the spirit! Come on, Sonia! Let's play this bad boy already and get our sleepover on! Ibuki even has a mixtape she prepared for us to jam out later!" She smiled proudly. Sonia gave her an approving smile, as she pressed play on the remote and sat down next to Chiaki, already on the third level of her game

The rest of the night wasn't so fun for one single person.....

"Wow, I'm pretty exhausted if I say so myself. What about you girls?" Sonia asked her friends, turning to the couch to talk to them. Chiaki didn't need to answer as she was already asleep on the floor, hugging her Nintendo close to her. Mikan was spraying some setting spray on her newly painted burgundy nails, and Ibuki was clearing up the music CD's she brought along

"I am getting a bit tired myself," Mikan yawned, putting the spray back on the table. "Maybe we should get to bed. After all, 22 year old girls should be getting a proper 8 to 10 hours of sleep," she smiled, but it suddenly turned into a frown. She ran her hands through her hair, panicking once again

"U-unless you guys aren't tired yet! If that's the case, it's fine! We can stay up all night and tell ghost stories! Or watch more movies! I didn't mean to sound boring! Please forgive my ig—"

"Mikan, chill girl! In fact, some sleep does sound like a great idea. I'm a bit b-....." I was about to agree with Mikan, but I just stared at the floor, not....doing anything. Why wasn't my body complying with me? Why....didn't I want to move?

"Huh? Hey, Ibuki to (Y/N)! You hear Ibuki?!" The ultimate musician practically screamed at me, waving a hand in my face. Nothing. I...I didn't feel like getting up. Almost like I was out of fuel, despite the snacks we all filled up on

"(Y/N)? Are you okay? What are you thinking about?" Sonia asked, sitting next to me. She tried shaking my shoulder, not getting a response from me. Ibuki got up and retrieved Mikan for me. The nurse crouched down to my height, feeling my forehead

"Eep! (Y/N)?! You're burning up! You have a serious fever!" She squealed, standing up. I mustered all the energy left in my body to even look at my shy friend, but my eyes looked glazed and cloudy. Sonia gasped, as she felt my warm cheek with her hand

"Mikan is right! (Y/N), you feel really hot!" The blond exclaimed, getting up. She ran to her landline, dialing a number

"N-No! Don't call...." I tried to shout at her, but something that was barely above a whisper came out from my pale lips. Suddenly, the sharp pain from earlier sent hurtful waves through my stomach. I yelped in pain, falling to my knees from the couch. Ibuki gasped, as she tried to steady me with Mikan. Mostly because I was an inch away from crushing a sleeping Chiaki

"I'm calling Nagito," Was all I heard Sonia say before my world got black, blocking out all my senses

***********************************************************************************************

When I woke up, I felt something ice cold resting on my head. I felt a heavy pressure next to the bed I was lying in, the sheets pulled loosely, but comfortably to my chest

Wait? I was in my bed?!

I looked up and saw Nagito looking at me as if I was a dead body. I saw that his eyes were a bit puffy and red around the edges. And wait....were those dried tears that rolled down his cheeks?

"(Y/N)! Oh, my ray of hope," he immediately yanked my hand from under the blankets and kissed my hand all the way to my forearm

"(Y/N), I was so worried! When Sonia called me and told me you felt ill, I felt despair building up inside me. How can I be so blind not to notice there was something wrong with my hope? I'm such a disgusting excuse for a human...." he mumbled, not looking me in the eye. I frowned, caressing his cheek

"Naggie, you aren't a disgusting excuse for a human. Never talk bad about yourself again, I keep telling you this. I didn't even feel sick until I arrived at Sonia's. In fact, I'd say you arrived just on time," I gave him a weak smile, making him flash me a gentle one

"Do you really mean that? Oh, it makes me so happy that my darling angel is praising trash like—" I cut him off with a death stare, scary enough to even make Gundham run away. He cleared his voice, continuing with his statement

"My angel is praising me," he corrected himself, making me smile again. However, that smile only lasted for a split second as I grimaced again, feeling another painful headache rush through my skull. I sat up quickly to get a better grip on the ice pack on my head, but Nagito gently pushed me down

"No, no, no, angel. You're too weak, don't get up so early. I'll be back with some medicine and tea. After that, I can prepare a bath for you. I was about to get in the shower before Sonia called me, so I didn't wash up either," He got up from the bed, only for me to grab his arm with a feeble grip

"Can I rest a bit more with you before we take that bath?" I asked him, making him grin sweetly at me, nodding

"Of course, darling. I'll be back in a minute with some tea and medicine for you," He told me before he placed a loving kiss on my temple, going out of our bedroom. I smiled, snuggling against the sheets. I took in the scent of toasted bagels and a hint of chocolate chip cookies, knowing damn well that was Nagito's scent (and that he was snacking on the bed earlier). I felt myself drift off into another sleep spell, smiling at the fact that me and Nagito were both lucky enough to end up with each other

#danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada kin #danganronpa x y/n #danganronpa #nagito x reader #nagito headcanons #nagito oneshots #danganronpa goodbye despair #goodbye despair #nagito fluff

90 notes · View notes

lambourngb · 3 years

Note

If you are still doing this, to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact)

combining the wip ask with WIP Wednesday ! Alright, so there’s two remix challenges going on right now, but I didn’t sign up for either of them because I have enormous anxiety about deadlines and I’m also kind of a control freak about my work. I do love the concept, so I decided to remix my own work.

to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact) is a remix of Last Years Wishes. It is completely the fault of @haloud who mused aloud about what if Jesse got to use the shed on Michael. You guys remember what I did to the shed in LYW right? Yeah. Poor Michael. So while Alex is waiting at the Airstream, talking to agents Ross and Rollins, this is how Michael’s day is going....

[warnings: canon divergent within 1x13, mention of Michael’s feelings for Maria, but nothing happens past the discovery of Rosa’s body in the cave ]

“Old man, you are calling me on my day off,” Michael yelled into the receiver of his cell phone speaker over the rushing sound of air after picking up the call.

The windows were down because his AC in his truck went on the frizz again sometime during when Max had stolen-borrowed it to drive Liz home from Texas, leaving him behind to share a long awkward ride with Maria in her classic Chevy. Awkward because he had been buzzing from the encounter in the desert. He hadn’t slept with anyone in weeks, not since Alex, and that had been a ridiculous attempt for him to pine in celibacy considering just how little the other man had missed him. Some things end in a whimper.

Texas had been about hope, about maybe finding someone who was connected to him on a species level. He hadn’t realized how deeply Max’s enthusiasm had sunk into him until the fraud had been revealed and disappointment had set in. Between Alex’s brusque brush off and realizing they really were alone on this planet, Michael hadn’t thought he could feel even lower with the weight of Isobel’s salvation fully on his shoulders (and Liz’s). Then shining like a bright star in the night sky, he had found Maria.

She had effectively chased away the touch starved ghouls that had haunted his skin that night, he could still barely believe they had dropped right to the rocky ground and scratchy blanket to fuck. It was the type of raw passion he had with- no, in that particular moment he hadn’t thought about Alex but afterwards? He couldn’t avoid the connection the next morning, particularly when she had sworn him to secrecy, and then had reinforced it when she had fully kicked him out in the cold after he had returned her repaired necklace.

It was unfortunate for her that he was already wired to enjoy a push-pull hot-cold dynamic.

Ten years of Alex Manes meant Michael had learned to read past a blustering denial to see the real truth. She really liked him, she just didn’t want to admit it, and good god, if that wasn’t a déjà vu moment for Michael, he didn’t know what was. Maybe it was stupid to believe it would work out any better with her than it had with Alex, but with Noah dead, his m- his reason for building his ship gone, what did it hurt to try again?

His healed hand curled around the grip on the steering wheel with a shiver of disorientation at the new flexibility, but he pushed it down to concentrate on that meager bubble of hope of what was ahead for him. Maria. Normalcy. When he had offered to leave her alone at the gala, she had refused to take him up on it. That's the problem, I never do.

It had felt good to hear that, that he was wanted, even as he heard the conflict in her voice over what she desired versus what she thought she deserved to have. That was also painfully familiar to Michael as well.

Caulfield had seeped into his skin, three layers deep in the worst type of burn. That brief moment of his mother, wrapping around his mind with her love and sorrow and hope, and then she was gone. The screaming, that he had heard from outside the chain link fence, suddenly disappeared as the explosion moved outward in a shockwave. For a few minutes he had stood on solid ground in that prison, for the first time since a sweet boy had returned his kiss at seventeen under a galaxy of plastic foam planets, and then it was over. His mother was gone, and in her stead, he had Alex telling him that -

Michael forcefully pushed that thought away and returned his attention back to the cranky drawl of Walt Sanders, “I know kid, but I’m already out with the wrecker in the other ass-end direction, so I need you to go help this cry baby who can’t change a flat. Help me make some money, so I can afford to keep your ass employed.”

“Fine, tell me the location, but this is holiday pay, not overtime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders muttered, before rattling off the mile marker and the highway. “It’s a Lincoln sedan, black. Probably some old geezer out on a drive to church who ran into trouble.”

“You calling someone else a geezer is funny to me, I hope you know that,” Michael replied, hitting his turn signal to make a left to pick up the state road. It wasn’t as if he had a planned time to see Maria, the lunch hour and official opening of the bar was still an hour away. A little delay that made him some extra cash was doable.

“Shut the hell up kid, and get going,” Sanders griped good-naturedly, before hanging up on Michael.

The sun was bright overhead, the storm from the night before having washed the land and sky clean of clouds. Across the pavement ahead, the heat and the brightness, cast a mirage of dark shimmering water that creeped just out of reach as he drove toward his new destination. His mind ticked over the set of priorities ahead, to make a little money with a tire change, then to drop in on Maria to make his case, and finally, he knew he needed to swing by Isobel’s to check on her in the aftermath of Noah’s betrayal. Somewhere in all of that, he knew he would need to make it home to see Alex for that promised talk, but there was plenty of time for that because Alex rarely came by during the day to see him.

“I’m still fighting his battles, not mine.”

Michael flexed his hands on the steering wheel again and pushed down the heaviness in his heart that accompanied thinking about Alex. Ten long years of waiting and wanting him. If Michael cared to count up all of the trips to Roswell that Alex had made on leave, the two weeks together after the class reunion that frankly felt like a hallucination to Michael, all of those hours spent together would add up to a month. A month that stretched out over ten years, 520 weeks, or 3,650 days.

Counting the distance to the nearest star was in light years, but when it came to counting the distance between the stash of wedding rings he had purchased for Alex over the years and what he had been actually allowed to have with Alex, well, that was a calculation beyond the redshift spectrum. It would take energy to transverse that distance one more time, and Michael had nothing left inside to fuel that journey. He couldn’t afford to be lost in the black again, not with Isobel in free-fall from Noah’s years of manipulations, not with the prospect of telling Liz they had found Rosa’s body on the horizon. It was just too hard to believe that this time, with Alex calling him family, with Alex throwing back the closest declaration to love that he had ever made, actually meant he was ready to move toward Michael and work to cut the distance between them on his own.

It was better to head forward in a new direction, than to look back like Max had said. Besides, every other time he had failed to be enough of a reason to help Alex bridge his own chasm between what he wanted and what he had allowed himself to have. What could have changed? Caulfield had just cemented the complications for them both.

A dark shadow in the distance, parked just off the road caught Michael’s attention. He glanced down at the odometer to mark the mileage and started to ease up on the gas. That must be the motorist Sanders had fielded a call from earlier, he realized. The ‘old geezer’ in the black Lincoln with a flat tire. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check for traffic but the road behind him was devoid of other vehicles.

Michael hit the turn signal and hazard lights on his truck, turning briefly to the side to check that he had some spare water bottles for the customer and his toolbox within reach and then turned onto the shoulder of the highway. Mentally he was already five steps ahead of himself as he stepped out of the truck to approach the car, thinking about the size of socket to fit over the lug nuts for the Lincoln’s wheels, whether his torque wrench was even in his box, or if he would have to camouflage his telekinetic efforts to change out the tire, that it took a moment to realize the tires on the Lincoln were whole and unharmed on the driver’s side.

Puzzled, Michael slowed his approach, and started toward the passenger side of the car. The windows were rolled up and dark, the tint was straddling the threshold of legal for New Mexico. There was still no sign of defect in the tires, he noticed as he was halfway around the passenger fender. Faulty tire gauge, he mused before he noticed the engine was rumbling almost inaudibly. Fucking hybrid, which meant whatever issue it had been definitely beyond the parts available at Sanders.

It was a little odd that the driver hadn’t stepped out to greet Michael, but not terribly unusual when it came to elderly customers who seemed to have a healthy paranoia about everyone they encountered. Still, Michael pasted a smile on his face and tapped on the window.

The automatic window slipped downward in an expensive whisper, but it wasn’t a helpless old man on his way to church at the wheel.

Jesse Manes smiled at Michael flashing his teeth, “Surprise.” Before Michael could do more than step backward, Jesse lifted a large gun-shaped object and fired. Yellow particulate matter exploded into the air, enveloping Michael completely. Pulling his arm to his mouth to attempt to block the pollen, did little good as he felt the sedating effects almost immediately.

He coughed into the open air, scrambling back toward his truck on weak legs as he tried to clear his lungs of the fast-acting poison. Behind him, he heard the car door open, and the crunch of boots on the loose gravel from the road’s shoulder as Jesse approached him. Though his powers were gone and his strength was waning fast, Michael had never backed down from a fight in life.

Certainly, not a fight for his life.

Swinging with all of his might, he hurled his heavy toolbox at Jesse blindly. There was a thump and a curse, but the footsteps kept coming. Animal-like terror set in as Michael crawled now on his knees toward the cab of his truck. He had to move, he had to live, he wasn’t going to die here on the side of the damn road- Suddenly a black boot came down on his hand, pinning him place and lighting up a fierce agony of pain in its wake.

“I like the fight, Guerin, I do,” Jesse remarked with a quiet menace. “Shall I make this hand match your other-”

It was on the tip of Michael’s tongue to point out the obvious, but then Jesse saw it for himself. His left hand, healed and pristine, clutching at the hot blacktop surface.

“I see.” He barked out a laugh that chilled Michael. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t the only one in Roswell. I thought about killing you right here you know, but now, you might finally serve a purpose in your useless life. You thought you could use my son in your perverted schemes? Well now it’s your turn to be bait.”

Michael’s vision was already fading into blindness with the pollen taking hold, but he managed to spit out between numb lips, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Not today. You’re the one who is fucked.” A hand grabbed a tight hold of Michael’s hair, wrenching him backward, and then it was merciful darkness.

***

#malex fic #wip wednesday #last years wishes universe #wip meme #michael guerin #jesse manes is his own warning #Anonymous

24 notes · View notes

imemeyoumemeweallmeme · 3 years

Text

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

#long post #ask meme #quotes #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #jafar #aladdin #the princess #jasmine #sheherazade #sultan #roleplay #roleplay asks #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #starters #roleplay starters

17 notes · View notes

katrinawritesthings · 3 years

Text

jonghyun / taemin; runaway; PG

close your thoughts and open your heart // hey love let's run away or you know that part in runaway after the bridge where jonghyun starts hitting in with the ad libs. I felt that in my heart @rollercoasterwrite hi again : )

After a while, a bouncy song worms its way into his head, has his heel tapping on the wooden slat of the train tracks. Taemin is holding his wrist in one hand, poking and pinching at the veins in his hand with the other. Jonghyun twists his hand so he can hold Taemin's instead, lacing their fingers together.

“Hey love, let's run away,” he sings softly. Taemin snorts quietly, the sound followed by a slow sigh.

“Sometimes I really want to,” he mumbles. He tilts his head away, but only until Jonghyun’s head falls to rest on his shoulder. Then he rests his head back on top of Jonghyun. “Just…” he says. “Pack some shit and... leave.”

Crickets chirp at Jonghyun’s feet as he walks along the dirt side of the road. The sidewalk dropped off about a block ago as he got towards the back of the neighborhood, where all of the big older houses are, the ones that are framed on this corner by the train tracks ahead of him and the creek to his left across the street.

He can hear the creek now, barely; it's summer so it's pretty low, but there's still a very faint trickle of water running through the rocks at the very bottom. He follows it, hands in his jeans pockets, leather jacket over his shoulders, collar popped for style and gay, and alternates between watching where his feet are going in the darkness and gazing up at the starry sky through the trees grown tall and wide by the house on his right.

Soon he comes to the end of the houses, the corner of this block, and faces the train tracks just on the other side of the road. He turns right and starts making his way that way, walking with the tracks to his left now, and keeps going until he hops back up onto the sidewalk in front of the blue apartments that line the road here. There he counts doors, passes one, two, three, four, Taemin’s, comes to a stop, turns left.

There, across the street, sitting lazily on the metal rail of the train tracks, softly illuminated by a street lamp a couple of yards away, Taemin lifts a hand and waves at him.

Jonghyun smiles even though he knows it's too dark for Taemin to see and waves back. He knew he would find Taemin here tonight. Taemin is always out here when he starts posting his emo lonely shit on his blog at 2 in the morning. Looking both ways, hopping off of the sidewalk yet again, Jonghyun jogs across the street and joins Taemin, sitting on the rail opposite him with their feet purposefully close together so that when he gets bored of sitting still they can play footy.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Taemin says back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmh. Buh. You?”

“Yeah. Same.”

“Nice.” Taemin reaches one hand out over the tracks and Jonghyun takes it, a handhold of solidarity over their shitty mental health. They grin at each other in the lamp light, Jonghyun taking in Taemin’s tired eyes and mussed dirty blond hair under his hood and blotchy skin, knowing that Taemin is looking him over as well.

A moment passes like that, and then another where Jonghyun appreciates that moment, appreciates Taemin, appreciates the gay little nut that he always harbors inside of himself for his friend. Then, before he even gets bored of sitting still, he gets bored of not sitting next to Taemin.

So he stands up, just for a second, and moves to sit on the opposite train track, next to Taemin so their sides are pressed together. Swinging his arm around Taemin’s shoulders with enough force that they sway backward and forward a little bit, he smirks when Taemin rolls his eyes at him and leans their heads together. This is good.

“How's work?” Taemin asks him then.

“Oh, awful,” Jonghyun says cheerfully. Taemin snorts, but not in a surprised way; Jonghyun knows that he already knew what the answer was before he asked. He elaborates more anyway: “Hours suck, mr. manager can't decide whether or not he wants to give me none or all of them,” he says, lifting one finger on the hand around Taemin’s shoulders. “Ever since summer started we get way less cool broke college kids and way more entitled Karens, management spent a whole month hyping up a super big raise that turned out to be a whole $0.50, one of the other stockers quit and I got stuck with training the new kid, except the new kid is just the managers son and he refuses to learn how to do jack shit because he knows he won't get fired, and Sekyung transferred to a different store last week before I could even get up the courage to tell her I liked her.”

“Oh, dude,” Taemin says, a disappointed sigh accompanying his words. He turns to Jonghyun with a look that's half exasperated, half sympathetic. “I told you to get on that before you lost your chance.”

“I know,” Jonghyun whines. He knows. Everyone has been telling him to confess to her for like 5 months. “I'm shy around femmes,” he pouts, turning to smush his face into Taemin’s shoulder. They make him all flustered and shaky. It's always been so much easier for him to flirt with everyone else. Taemin’s hand comes up to ruffle through his hair sympathetically, which Jonghyun appreciates.

“How’s school?” he asks into Taemin’s hoodie. He knows the answer to this just like Taemin did when he asked his question, and just like he expected, Taemin groans rough in the back of his throat.

“It sucks,” Taemin says, probably too loudly for how close they are to a line of apartments at 3 in the morning. “It sucks and I hate it. I have too many classes because I need to take so many classes and fucking rich boy mc asshole that always sits next to me in bio always goes," Why don't you just take fewer classes and stay for more years?" and it's like, because I'm not fucking made out of money, asshole, and also, I don't even know why the fuck I'm taking bio, I don't know why I'm majoring in biochem, I hate it, I still can't believe I let my parents bully me into it, and I can't even join the dance club because the fucking dance club got cancelled somehow, and it's like, how the fuck do you--? It’s just a dance club? It's like one of the least problematic clubs in the school? How does that even happen? And all my teachers talk so much big shit about how woke and accommodating they are but they never even let me have one extension on anything, and--”

He stops talking in favor of just curling up his knees and pushing his forehead into them, and then tapping his forehead on them, harder and harder, almost to an alarming intensity. Almost because Jonghyun, knowing to expect it, quickly curls his arm even further around his shoulders and lifts his other arm to push on his chest, keeping him away.

“Hey! Hey... Hey,” he says quietly, close to Taemin’s ear. He drops a tiny little smooch to his temple as well, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “Be gentle with yourself,” he chides. He can't keep banging himself up every time he gets all worked up because of all of everyone else's bullshit. Taemin sighs through his nose, whole body sagging into Jonghyun’s.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. He sounds a mix of tired of how often Jonghyun says that to him and tired of how often he needs to be told that. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Jonghyun hums back and then lets it be quiet between them for a little bit. That's what always helps Taemin. Just sitting with someone that supports him and thinking through his brain stuff on his own. Jonghyun likes the comfort of quiet snuggling as well. He didn't walk four blocks in the middle of the night just because he was worried about his friend getting lost on the train tracks 10 yards in front of his own apartment. He was feeling emo and lonely and couldn't sleep, too. And Taemin has to know that, because he shifts closer to him and takes his hand to hold in both of his, rubbing warmth into his skin.

Taemin looks into their laps, at their hands, scuffs the pebbley ground with his foot. Jonghun looks up, to the sky, at the moon and all the stars that twinkle down at him. Both of them are getting lost in the same way, lost in their thoughts, lost in their surroundings, lost in each other's comfort. It's a familiar and easy escape to settle into and Jonghyun rests their heads together gently again.

“Hey love, let's run away,” he sings softly. Taemin snorts quietly, the sound followed by a slow sigh.

“Same,” Jonghyun says. The allure of it is so strong that sometimes he only has his executive dysfunction to blame for not actually doing it.

“Yeah?” Taemin asks, turning to him with a raised eyebrow, so close that Jonghyun can see up his nose. He fights down his giggle in favor of nodding simply. Yeah. “Where would you go?” Taemin asks. Jonghyun grins. This at least is a question he can answer easily.

“Ideally?” he says, and then points a finger straight up at the stars. “Infiltrate NASA, steal a spaceship, blast off, explore the cosmos and find a universe where everything doesn't suck.” He lets his hand fall back down into Taemin’s. “Realistically?” he asks quieter, and then he shrugs. He's never really done more than daydream and he doesn't really have any actual plans. “SHINee is doing that free little concert on the beach this weekend,” he says. That would be fun to go to.

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” Taemin hisses. “I was going to say Japan, but, fuck, I love SHINee.” Jonghyun chuckles. Japan sounds fun too, but, yeah, a chill acoustic beach concert a couple of hours away sounds much more doable. “One time, in high school,” Taemin says. “When I didn't feel guilty about asking for shit like concert tickets or whatever, I went to go see them. And this was, like, before they were popular, so I got front row seats, and Taeyeon did one of her spins, you know?”

He looks at Jonghyun like he expects Jonghyun to know what he means; Jonghyun does. The kind of spins that Taeyeon does when she's dancing, where she winds herself up and then nuts herself around like a top.

“And some of her sweat dripped on me,” Taemin continues dreamily. He taps a spot high on his cheek, next to his nose. “Right here. It was so great.”

“Lucky,” Jonghyun sighs wistfully. “2 years ago I got Junghee to sign a guitar pick for me,” he says. He blushes just thinking about her crescent eye smile, her sharp teeth, her buff babely arms as she handed him back the pick. He still has it in a tiny little glass frame on his headboard. “Do you think she would sign my bass for me, if I took it to the concert?” He asks.

“Probably, if we got up close to the front,” Taemin says. Jonghyun feels his shoulder shrug under his cheek. Then he feels it shift and move more, and sits up a little bit so Taemin is free to dig in his hoodie pocket for his phone. “How far away is that concert, even?” he asks, pulling up a map app and entering in two addresses. Jonghyun snorts as the directions and distance pop up. It's even further away than he thought; about four hours drive. Taemin doesn't snort, but he does sigh in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and stuffing his phone into his pocket again. “Fucking. Hundred fifty bucks worth of gas,” he mutters.

“I forgot how awful your car is,” Jonghyun says, the words coming out as half of a laugh. He knows he can't talk because he doesn't have a car, but Taemin’s car is a piece of shit. He loves that rusty little bug. Taemin laughs too, embarrassed, probably a little offended. Then he sighs again.

“Plus hotel costs,” he mumbles. “You know I can't drive at night. It's scary.”

“Sure,” Jonghyun says. He can't relate, but he understands. “Train tickets are only like, eight bucks each,” he says. “$30 round trip, that's not bad. Still would have to find a hotel, though.” The trains stop running too early around here.

“Does it even have to be a round trip, though?” Taemin says absently. “I thought we were running away.”

“Oh yeah,” Jonghyun says. He yawns into his popped collar, and then smiles as a wild thought appears in his brain. Leaning back on his hands so the pebbles skittered all over the ground dig into his palms, he says, “What if when we get there and I get Junghee to sign my guitar, I show her some of the songs I've written and she's so impressed she hires me to be like, her roadie slash groupie slash songwriter?”

“Dude, yeah,” Taemin grins. “and Gwiboon wouldn't be able to resist my super cute face,” he says, poking his own cheek proudly. Jonghyun snorts, giggling into his shoulder.

“Please, she has standards,” he says, elbowing Taemin in the side. Taemin just shrugs lazily.

“Not high ones, you've seen how soft she is for Taeyeon.” and Jonghyun can't argue with that, so he doesn't. He just shakes his head fondly as he thinks about his 5 favorite ladies. Looking up at the stars, he finds his favorite one and smiles at it while Taemin yawns into the back of his hand. “We could pick up jobs with them, if we tried,” he says quietly. “You know they've talked about needing more help on their tours. We could just... Go. right now. Just us two. We could do it.”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun says, just as quietly. It really could happen. If they went. If they tried. He turns his head to his left to look at Taemin, to say something, but before he can, something behind Taemin catches his attention. Further down the track, way further, down on the main road, red lights blink slowly back and forth. And one big bright yellow light in the middle of the track slowly approaches. Faint dinging from the train crossing reaches his ears now as well.

“Shit,” he mumbles, and stands up. When Taemin blinks at him in question, he reaches both hands out to help him stand. “Train’s coming,” he says, nodding down the track.

“Oh,” Taemin says, looking down there himself. He pulls Jonghyun off of the track, to the little metal fence on the other side of it that separates them from the ditch between the track and the high soundproof walls that encase the fancy rich people apartments.

They hoist themselves up and sit on top of the fence, Jonghyun slipping his arm behind Taemin to hold on to the railing on his other side, keeping him safe. Together they watch the train slowly draw near, chugging it's way along steadily, thick clouds of smoke puffing from the front. It moves slowly; it's one of the usual supply trains that runs on this track, not one of the fast public transportation trains. Jonghyun watches the line of cars on the main street pile up behind it, amused.

It takes at least five minutes for the train to actually come near them, the scent of metal and grease and rust and smoke thick in the air. As it draws near, Taemin raises a hand in a lazy wave. Jonghyun smiles, then is filled with a sudden impulse.

Slowly, hesitantly, with all of the same hope in his heart that he had when he was 8 years old, he lifts his hand next to his head and pumps it up and down twice. Then he waits, other hand gripping tight to the railing in anticipation. He can't see the conductor in there; it's too dark, and the headlight makes it too bright in all of the wrong places. The train chugs ever closer, almost passing them, and Jonghyun starts to lose hope, but then--

The train whistle sounds, 2 long notes, just as the front cabin passes them.

The sound blasts through the night air, no doubt annoying everyone except Jonghyun, who does his biggest and loudest woohoo!, both hands raised high in the air, fists pumping back and forth triumphantly, and Taemin, who has one hand on the fence and one hand on Jonghyun’s thigh as he doubles over laughing.

It's exhilarating; Jonghyun feels ecstatic, rejuvenated, alive. His heart beats against his ribs, his lungs expand with huge breaths of air, his cheeks almost hurt from how wide and hard he's smiling, his body tingles, the warm summer breeze feels extra sharp against his skin. He watches the train go, gratitude and excitement in his soul, feeling so light and so bright from that small favor from a friendly stranger that he feels like he'll burst into a million elated pieces.

It's overwhelming, almost. How happy he is right now, in this isolated moment, how intense the emotion is. He never gets emotions this intense anymore. He loves it, loves feeling so much so suddenly, so hard, so positive. It fills him up all the way, starts in his chest and expands to every single part of his body, and Taemin’s continued laughter next to him only makes him feel better.

He turns around, takes in Taemin’s wide open mouth and round red cheeks and scrunched up eyes and feels like with him, he could feel this happy all the time. His heart, already so full and so happy, beats even faster, feels so good, so good that he reaches up and cups Taemin’s face in both hands and presses a kiss firm to his mouth.

Taemin makes a noise into his mouth, not surprised, just a little muffled exclamation. Jonghyun keeps kissing him, shallow, simple, just to feel their mouths together, to prolong this moment of happiness, to share it with his friend. Taemin, after a moment, kisses him back, a breath of a laugh puffing over Jonghyun’s upper lip. His hands come up and cover Jonghyun’s, not to move them away, but to hold.

“Yeah?” he asks between two kisses. His voice is a little incredulous, but mostly resigned, and a little enamored. Jonghyun nods, moving their hands down together to rest gently around Taemin’s neck and angle him better into the kiss.

“Yeah,” he smiles. He loves this, loves kissing, loves kissing Taemin, loves feeling this good. He wants to feel this good all the time. He wants to be with Taemin, to go with him, run away with him, he wants to--

He pulls away for just a moment, and in that moment, looking at Taemin’s closed eyelids, his chapped skin, his softly parted lips, Jongyun’s elation fades away. Reality creeps back in, slowly, a trickle of disappointment. A thought comes to him. A real thought, not an emotion. A thought of responsibility. He sighs, sliding his arms down to hug Taemin around the arms instead, pulling him close and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“We should... Call someone to be our voice of reason and not let us run away,” he mumbles sadly. If he's feeling impulsive enough to want to kiss Taemin and be with him forever, and Taemin is feeling desperate enough to drive to the coast and never come back, then the two of them together really shouldn't be left alone. In his arms, Taemin expands and deflates in his own heavy sigh.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I guess you're right.” It's awkward when they're sitting next to each other like this on the fence, but he slips his arms around Jonghyun’s waist and hugs him back. “Jinki?” he asks. And despite how little and sad Jonghyun is suddenly feeling, he snorts and giggles a little bit.

“Are you kidding, his Sagittarius ass?” he asks. “He'd drive all the way over here right now and pick us up. Minho too.” he wouldn't trust either of them to stop a runaway impulse if his life depended on it, and that's him speaking as an Aries. Taemin scoffs quietly next to his ear.

“Astrology hoe,” he teases. Then, before Jonghyun can grump at him, says, “Key would murder us if we woke him up this late.” Jonghyun chuckles a little more. That also is true.

“That's the Libra in him,” he says slyly.

“Excuse me? He's a Virgo.”

“He's a cusp.”

“What the fuck is a cusp?”

“If you were an astrology hoe, you would know.”

“God. Shut up.”

Taemin shoves him away, but he's smiling when Jonghyun leans back and smirks, smiling and shaking his head. He pulls down his hood, runs his hands through his messy dirty blond bangs a few times, and pulls his hood back up. Jonghyun elbows his side gently, wiggling his eyebrows when Taemin glances at him just to make him shake his head again. Then he just grips the railing on either side of his hips, looking back up at the stars. Taemin holds onto the fence too, his right hand so close to Jonghyun’s left that their pinkies overlap, and looks down at the earth.

“I guess if we can't call anyone to stop us then we have to find some shred of responsibility between the two of us and do it ourselves,” Jonghyun says to the sky. He’s sure that between the both of them they can find one small nugget of good mental health and adult skills to keep them from making a bad decision at 3 in the morning. Jonghyun rolls his head to the side to nudge Taemin’s shoulder. “Want to go back to my place and just sleep?” he asks. Taemin breathes out a laugh, feet kicking against a lower rail of the fence so Jonghyun can feel every hit of contact under his thighs.

“I don't want to fucking.” he lifts one hand to rub over his face tiredly, smile still wide behind it, then gestures it vaguely over the neighborhood. “Walk, like, over a mile in the dark, that's so much work,” he says. He nudges Jonghyun back. “You just come sleep with me in my place.” he nods his head forward, over the track, across the street, at his apartment door. Jonghyun raises his eyebrows, surprised.

“I thought I wasn't allowed in your house?” he says. “Because your parents hate me, because I'm a bad influence and I turned you gay and I filled your head with awful horrible thoughts like, free healthcare is a human right and capitalism is inherently evil and no one should have to work for a living.”

Taemin snorts into laughter, ugly adorable little giggles that crinkle his eyes, then shakes his head. Shrugging, he says, “I convinced them that it was actually college that did all of that, and you couldn't have done it because you didn't go to college, so now they just hate you because you didn't go to college.”

“Oh, well, that's so much better,” Jonghyun says sarcastically. Taemin just shrugs back again, looking completely unbothered.

“They're both asleep right now and they'll both be gone in the morning anyway,” he says. “Besides, I bought myself a lock for my door and pulled the I'm a 24 year old adult and I deserve privacy excuse for it. It'll be the easiest thing in the world to sneak you into my bed. Come on.” He hops off the fence, straightens his hoodie around his hips, and then holds out his hand.

Jonghyun looks at it, his weird little fingers, his bony wrist peeking out of the sleeve. Then he looks up at Taemin’s face. Acne on his cheeks, bags under his eyes. He feels nice in his heart, the way he did earlier, but less intense, more familiar. Taking Taemin’s hand, he resists the pull in favor of tugging Taemin close to him instead, pulling him to stand between his legs. Even from here he has to tilt his head up a little bit to look into Taemin’s eyes. He cups Taemin’s face again, rubbing his thumb over his bumpy cheek, and smiles, leaning in to softly peck his lips.

Taemin makes the same kind of not surprised but just amused noise as he did before. His hands slide up to rest on Jonghyun’s thighs. Jonghyun appreciates that Taemin lets him just do this a whole lot.

“Hey, not to be impulsive emotional gay and also genuine soft gay in the same ten minutes, but,” Jonghyun says, resting their foreheads together, letting their lips brush as he speaks. “Thanks for being my friend,” he says. Then he kisses the little humming noise that Taemin makes in response to that.

“Don't mention it,” Taemin says. “Come on.” He gets his hands around Jonghyun’s waist and tugs him off of the fence. Jonghyun pretends to stumble and leans all of his weight on Taemin, clinging to him, smiling against his ear when he staggers for real and makes a surprised, disgruntled little noise. Then, before Taemin can get mad at him, he just swings his arm around his shoulders, steadies him on his feet, and bumps him gently to start walking back to his apartment.

Taemin bumps him back even harder, but he also slips his arm around his waist, so Jonghyun doesn't mind.

Their shoes crunch over the gravel around the train tracks, clink against the metal of the rail, thud against the planks. Jonghyun tilts his head to look up at the stars, thinks that would make a good picture, pauses as that thought stirs something in his memory. Tightening his hold on Taemin so he stops too, Jonghyun puts his hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone.

Opening up Instagram, he leans back and snaps a picture of the sky. Then he takes another with the moon in it, his favorite lesbian, and then he lowers his phone and takes a picture of the train tracks disappearing into the darkness. Then he flips it to the front camera and smushes his cheek against Taemin’s, smiling pretty and watching him roll his eyes on the screen.

“Why?” Taemin asks, even as he lifts a hand to mess with his bangs and make them look nicer.

“It's this thing I read online one time,” Jonghyun says, waiting for Taemin to close his eyes and smile tiredly for the camera. He takes the picture and then continues, “to help with, you know, not being so mean to myself all the time. I'm documenting all the times that I feel like it's pretty okay to be me.”

As Taemin hums quietly in approval, Jonghyun raises his phone and tilts it to give them one of those funny face selfie angles. Taemin catches on very quickly, raising both hands in little v signs and pushing up his cheeks. Jonghyun giggles, muffling them in Taemin’s shoulder, before popping back up and tilting his head and opening his eyes super wide so they look gigantic in the picture.

Once he takes it, he pulls his phone back close so he can look at all of the filters and everything. He lets Taemin pull him across the street and up onto the sidewalk as he does. He plays with it, putting filters on all of the pictures except the selfies while Taemin quietly jiggles his key into the lock and sneaks him through the apartment and to his bedroom.

When they get there, Jonghyun snorts at the fact that Taemin purchased a whole ass electronic fingerprint lock instead of a key or combination one. That must have been one hell of a conversation with his parents. Taemin opens his bedroom door and gestures Jonghyun inside with a silent flourish and a huge grin, one Jonghyun returns as he curtsies gratefully and flounces inside like a delicate princess.

Then he tosses his phone onto Taemin’s bed and shrugs out of his jacket and jeans, doing his best not to stumble around and curse when his foot gets stuck. Taemin isn't doing much better; Jonghyun hears more than sees him bang his knee on his dresser as he makes his way to the bed.

Still, they manage to fall into bed together without making too much noise, and Jonghyun gets comfortable with his right arm under Taemin’s head. He picks up his phone and goes back to his Instagram post, typing out a summary of his night so he'll be able to look back on it another time when he isn't feeling as good. Taemin grumbles at the brightness and turns his face into Jonghyun’s shoulder, pulling his blankies up high over them.

Ruffling Taemin’s hair gently, dropping a tiny kiss to the top of his head, Jonghyun finishes his post, sends it, and then puts his phone on power save mode so it doesn't die during their little snooze. Then he curls up on his side, wrapping his other arm around Taemin’s waist and tangling their legs together. He always likes sleeping with Taemin. It's so easy for them to be comfortable next to each other.

“I hope you dream about playing guitar with Junghee on the pier at sunset,” Taemin whispers to him. It takes a moment for that sentence to process in Jonghyun’s brain, but when it does, his heart swells and he squeezes Taemin that much closer, that much tighter. That's so sweet.

“Thanks,” he whispers back. “I hope you dream about dancing with Taeyeon and then you both have the sweatiest hug imaginable.”

“Hell yeah,” Taemin giggles. “Nighty-night.”

“Nighty-night.” And Jonghyun isn't feeling particularly sleepy, actually, but here, with Taemin, he can still close his eyes and let his brain turn off for a little bit, maybe doze for a little while, and that's more than he gets with anyone else.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #jjongsmonth #rollercoasterwrite #fluff #oneshot #pg #ydw #I didn't write the sequel but I do think about it a whole lot #but long story short jung sees his Instagram post and sends him $1000 and is like hey come see our concert:-)#he wakes up to it and nuts and when taemin wakes up he shows Taemin and Taemin nuts #th go see the concert and then like 3 years later theyre roadies : )

14 notes · View notes

sirloozelite · 3 years

Text

A Review of SWTOR

So, not too long ago, a pair of friends (frenemies more like) of mine were playing SWTOR... and suffice to say they would not shut up about it. I’d always been aware of the game in the back of my mind, but it had never really appealed to me. MMO’s don’t really, as I would always be worried about random players sticking their nose in whilst I was trying to keep to myself.

Still, my friends would not shut up about it, and they kept recommending it to me, despite my internal aversion to it. Now, considering that they had both foolishly taken my advice on games to play in the past, I decided to return the favour and give SWTOR a chance.

And boy was I glad I did. Is SWTOR a good game? Yes... and no... and yes. It’s not perfect, it’s got problems, but it’s still a lot of fun, and I’m glad I’ve done at least one playthrough of the game.

Upon loading up I of course had to choose what storyline I wanted to follow. Since both of my buddies had gone Jedi Knight, (though I’d argue that a certain someone made their Jedi about as deplorable as Anakin) I decided to be the awkward one and went Sith Inquisitor instead, and honestly... I think I chose perfectly!

Oh and... for those interested... here is my Inquisitor:

His name is the Sixteenth Brother! What’s his backstory? Well... that depends on who you ask! Some say he’s the 16th sibling of a Zabrak family... others say he chose the name to hide his true one. Some even say he’s a time traveller from a distant future sent back in time after accidentally finding a Sith relic in his time. Whatever the truth is matters little. All that matters is that he was great fun to play as.

Oh and for the record, this review is based on a Free To Play experience and completion of the class storyline only. I’ve not touched the expansions yet, but intend to at some point. Any criticisms I have that are solved by subscribing are a moot point. Furthermore, it goes without saying but all of the below is my own opinions of the game. Doesn’t make them right or wrong.

The Good

There are many good things about SWTOR, almost too many to name. That said, there are some things I’d like to highlight.

The Story

The first and foremost best thing about the game is of course, the story. Being a Bioware written game created at the same time as the Mass Effect trilogy, I expected a good story... and I was not disappointed by the tale of the Sith Inquisitor. It was the standard tale of a protagonist coming from lowly origins, in this case a slave, and advancing up the ladder of society. Nothing too revolutionary, but add in the Sith and the Empire and it was made all the more better. Frequently, poor 16th Bro would get hounded for being an alien, and each and every time he’d beat the odds, and then usually show mercy to those who had insulted him. (I played him mostly light side... though there were a few times I surrendered to the dark and zapped people)

The world building within the story was also top notch. Plenty of detail is hidden away in the codex, much like Mass Effect, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t stuff in the actual gameplay and story as well. I’d never really been a legends fan, and whilst I’m still not, I do see why a lot of people love these sorts of stories. I was invested, and that’s what mattered.

Outside of the Sith Inquisitor, the very fact that there are seven other unique storylines and classes to play, as well as heavy character customization and role play more than make the game worthy of revisiting. There is a little bit of something for everyone it seems.

The Characters

Another great strength of Bioware games is usually it’s characters, especially the protagonists companions. I can happily report that, at least for the Sith Inquisitor, the vast majority of the characters in the story were great.

The three standout characters outside of the Inquisitor to me were Khem Val, Ashara Zavros and Talos Drellik.

That’s not to say that Andronikos, Xalek, Zash and Thanaton weren’t good characters either, I just didn’t enjoy them as much as Khem, Ashara and Talos.

Each character felt like they had their own arc. Khem Val growing to accept you as a Master and true successor to Tulak Hord was great, even if he and 16th Bro were constantly disagreeing about 16th’s methods. Despite his dislike of the decisions, I still sided with him when the time came to choose who got to control his body for good.

Ashara going from “I’m a Jedi and I won’t go against my teachings!” to “Peace is a lie!” was good development as well. I understand that some people don’t like this character much, but she was my go to companion most of the time. She’s not quite a Sith, but not quite a Jedi either, and that made for a perfect companion for the 16th Brother, as he was hardly a model Sith either.

As for Talos... well... he’s an archaeologist and a historian... and I’ve got a degree in history... so of course I was going to love him! Plus he was eccentric as all hell and added a nice voice of humour to the crew. His personal story about him trying to find his old mentor and carry on his legacy was heartfelt too.

As for everyone else, I was invested in their characters, don’t get me wrong, just not as much as the others. Both Zash and Thanaton were good villains that I took pleasure in ending, and Andronikos and Xalek got their fair amount of use on the field and in the ship. Everyone was friends at the end after all.

The Voice Acting

The other good point I’d like to highlight is the voice acting, particularly that of the male Sith Inquisitor. I’ve heard people say the female voice is better, but for my experience the male Inquisitor was the perfect match of sass and sarcasm. It made every scene with him in enjoyable to watch. RPG games were a single protagonist can get a bit boring sometimes. Commander Shepard suffers from this in Mass Effect at times. I never got that feeling with the Inquisitor though. He was hilarious from the second he stepped off the shuttle on Korriban and sassed Overseer Harkun (who I totally zapped to death) to the moment he took his seat on the dark council with a surprised Pikachu look on his face.

So yeah... super credit to Euan Morton for making the Inquisitor the dark master of sass and sarcasm!

Outside of the Inquisitor, I can say that all the other VA’s did a great job too. I can’t think of any character that had particularly bad voice acting off the top of my head.

Other Good Stuff

Outside of the three things I mentioned, SWTOR also has plenty of content to offer for everyone. If you want to do main missions, sure! Side quests? Sure! Space combat missions? Yep! Whatever you fancy, it’s there. There is no shortage of content to enjoy for hours on end, even as a Free To Play player like I was.

The Bad

And now to most likely upset some people... sorry about that, but no game is perfect, and SWTOR has some flaws that could put people off playing it. This stuff is by no means a game breaking deal for me, but it did annoy me and I felt like it needed addressing.

The Game is Tedious

My biggest complaint is that at times, usually after an hour of playing, the game can become tedious and boring to play! There were times it felt like a chore honestly, and I hate saying that because SWTOR is a good game.

The main reason for it feeling so tedious though comes down to how you move around the maps. When you can, fast travel is your best friend and can save a lot of time, however, not everywhere has a fast travel point near it.

This is where speeders come into play. You can buy one for a reasonable amount of credits, and they are faster than walking for sure, but not by much.

The problem with the speeders is that it is so easy to get shot off of one by one of the random enemies you are trying to drive past (and believe me there are hundreds of them!) that is becomes aggravating to move around the map from objective to objective. Avoiding enemies isn’t hard for sure, but sometimes you have to go right past them, and after hours of fighting enemies it can get a bit tedious being shot off your speeder in one shot just because you didn’t want to waste time fighting an enemy. Once you hit your level cap, fighting random enemies is pointless after all.

Maybe that’s just me though. I’d personally make the speeders a bit more durable. One tiny shot shouldn’t disable your speeder. Heavy fire... sure! Doesn’t help that sometimes you can tank a bunch of shots on your speeder and escape without being knocked off, but then on another occasion you’ll be knocked off by a sneeze.

Either way, movement around the maps can get annoying as all hell, but at least the scenery is pretty.

The Planets

Now don’t get me wrong, I like all the planets I went to... mostly... and my issue isn’t with the planets in general.

It’s with how bloody long it takes to complete them all.

The Story Arc quest lines for each planet can take forever sometimes and they end up going on a bit too long if you ask me. Alderaan and Hoth are the two that come to my mind the most. It felt like I spent weeks on those planets driving back and forth between areas to do simple tasks for little reward. Plus the sheer number of side quests didn’t help. I stopped doing everything that wasn’t a story or Arc quest once I hit Hoth!

Don’t get me wrong, I like side quests for sure... I just don’t like them to drag on forever! In a lot of ways, SWTOR reminds me of Mass Effect Andromeda. That game too also had side quests that went on forever.

My one piece of advice to nay new players for SWTOR would be to ignore the side quests and focus solely on your class story quests and planet Arc quests instead. If you try and do everything, you’ll burn yourself out quickly. Unless you are a completionist of course. In that case go nuts! XD

Other Bad Stuff

Aside from my two big gripes above, which are honestly minor in reality, the only other issues I really have with the game are the boring side objectives in some missions. Nine times out of ten they equate to ‘kill a bunch of dudes’. They are easy enough to complete, as you’ll be killing things anyways, so you don’t really need to put any real thought into completing most of them. They just feel tacked on and rather pointless honestly.

The Ugly

And now the ugly stuff. This is stuff that is between good and bad. Bad as in they annoyed me, but good as in I understand why others like them or they improved over time.

The User Interface

Oh god the UI! When I first started the game it was so overwhelming! Pop-ups everywhere! Hundreds of tabs and side bars and tutorial boxes being spammed my way. It was not friendly to a new player who had literally just jumped in. If I hadn’t played games like Civ or XCOM in the past I might not have been able to cope with how much stuff was going on at once.

Luckily, after a few hours of play, I began to understand the UI a bit more and became comfortable with it. I knew what was where and what did what, as well as what I didn’t need. (any PvP stuff for example) Plus the ability to edit the interface to your own liking helped a lot as well, so it wasn’t a complete lost cause, just overwhelming at first.

Flashpoints and Heroic Missions

So, these missions are designed to be played with other players online, clearly. They can be done solo, but they take forever to do so. Endless hordes of high HP enemies, including even higher HP boss fights is not that entertaining to me, and thus very quickly became boring to me. Artificial difficulty in a way. Plus if you do die, it ain’t half a pain in the ass to get back to where you were, only to find that boss that had 5% health left when it killed you is now back to 100%.

I gave up doing these sorts of missions and have no intention of returning to them unfortunately, which is a shame as some of the flashpoints have actual important story content in them.

Still, if unlike me you actually have friends to help you with these, then I get why you like them, and more power to you. I just don’t enjoy them much.

The Soundtrack

And now to really upset some people. Look... I like John Williams music scores as much as the rest of the fandom does. That said, there were places in SWTOR where it showed up and really really did not work! It almost felt like the game was just spamming random iconic tracks that sort of fit the scene, but really didn’t.

The biggest one for me that didn’t work was the final duel against Darth Thanaton in the Dark Council Chambers. During the cutscene between the two fighting, the music started on ‘The Final Duel’ from ROTJ when they were fighting, and they suddenly it shifted to the theme from Padmés funeral when Thanaton was overpowered! I mean, I get what they were going for with the music, but the sudden shift between tracks was unceremonious and didn’t work. If they were going to use licensed movie music then they should have just chosen one track and stuck with it rather than jumping between two!

Furthermore, to me those themes were written for specific scenes in their respective movies, and thus were created to fit those scenes, not random SWTOR scenes. If anything, the entire scene should have had it’s own score written for it rather than just reuse movie tracks instead!

That said, whenever the game does use original music that isn’t from the movies, it’s fine! The ambient background for the planets is great, Alderaan’s especially, and I hated that planet! They clearly had the talent of music directors to write Star Wars sounding music, so I don’t fully get why they didn’t just go with original music all the way rather than just reuse John Williams music instead. I don’t know if they didn’t have enough money or something. If that was the case then I’d understand.

So yeah, the music is a 50/50 for me. The original music is great. The movie music is still great, it’s just not used right.

Other Ugly Stuff

WASD controls. They aren’t game breaking, but I’m not a great fan of them. They make my wrist hurt. I adapted, like I did with the UI, so it’s not really a big issue, but I know it could put one or two people off playing it.

Another minor gripe is a consequence of the game being an RPG within an MMO. Other players are running around, often doing the same objectives as you. They can steal your objectives before you, forcing you to wait around for them to respawn so you can do them yourselves. Luckily there is usually other stuff to do in the meantime, and the re-spawn timer is smallish, so it’s not a huge problem. Just an unfortunate consequence.

Conclusion

So... would I recommend playing SWTOR to people? Yes! I would. It’s a good game, even with it’s flaws. I had a lot of fun running through the Sith Inquisitor’s storyline, and I learnt a lot about the game for any future playthroughs I do. I know what to expect now and what to stay away from, so hopefully whatever class I choose to do next will be full of less annoying little things.

That said, considering how long it took me to do the Inquisitor’s story, I feel like I’m gonna need a serious break before I can play another class. I was almost burnt out when I finished the Inquisitor, and I’ve still got the two free expansions to go!

So yeah... all in all, SWTOR is a good game,. I’d recommend it, and I’m glad I gave it a fair chance. It’s not in my top 10, but it’s one to return to. :)

So, if you’ve ever thought about trying out SWTOR before but were apprehensive about it, then I’d encourage you to give it a shot. It is free after all! Unless you subscribe. But you can at least try it for free! Bonus I say! XD

#swtor

11 notes · View notes

grailfinders · 4 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #58: Tamamo Cat

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making Chaldea’s favorite pet of indeterminate origin, Tamamo Cat! This strangely furry chef is an incredibly speedy fighter, zooming around the battlefield to deliver delicious treats and lots of scratches.

Check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the build summary over here!

Race and Background

Tamamo Cat is-as her name would suggest-a dog, so the closest fit for her is a Tabaxi. This gives you +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma. You also get 60′ of Darkvision, Feline Agility, letting you double your speed for a turn. To recharge it, you have to take a nap and move 0 feet. Your Cat’s Claws give you a climbing speed of 20′, and you can deal 1d4 plus your strenght modifier in slashing damage instead of other unarmed attack damages. Finally, Dog’s Talent gives you proficiency in Perception and Stealth. You’re not really that subtle, but nobody pays attention to the comedy characters.

“Altered clone of a level 20 character” isn’t a background, but it is a traumatic event, so I’d call you a Haunted One. The only skills they have that match you is Investigation and Survival.

Stats

Your highest stat is going to be Strength. We don’t really use it after level 8, but it’ll be good to have it while we can. Second is Dexterity, you’re a cat, they’re pretty agile. Third is your Constitution, because you’re still a berserker, and not too good with the thinking. Your Wisdom is pretty high for a berserker; animals like you, because you are one. Your Charisma could be higher, but we need other stuff more. Finally, dump Intelligence. You know those pictures of cats where you can just tell there’s nothing but air between their ears? Nine times out of ten, that’s you. The other one time is why you’re a Haunted One.

Class Levels

1. Wizard 1: When you start as a wizard- just kidding, of course you’re a Barbarian. Starting as a barbarian nets you proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two barbarian skills. You’re a dog, which is a type of animal, so Animal Handling tracks. cats are also good at running around like an idiot, so grab Athletics too.

First level barbarians can Rage, resisting bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage, getting advantage on strength saves and checks, and adding extra damage to strength based attacks for a minute as a bonus action. It’ll also end early if you stop taking or dealing damage, but I wouldn’t worry about that. You also have Unarmored Defense, boosting your AC based on your Dexterity and Constitution. You’re more nimble than sturdy, so try to keep out of underfoot.

2. Barbarian 2: You can now Attack Recklessly, gaining advantage for a turn in exchange for giving advantage to others attacking you. The trick is to do more attacks by yourself than everyone attacking you can do back. Your canine reflexes also give you a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves to prevent damage from things you can see. Burning cat fur smells bad, so get out of the way of that fireball!

3. Barbarian 3: At third level, you set down a Primal Path. The Path of the Beast gives you a Form of the Beast when you start, giving you one of three natural weapons when you start a rage. Your Bite heals you once per turn when attacking, your Claws give you an extra attack each action, and your Tail has reach, and you can also fluff it up as a reaction to gain more ac against a single attack. You ever get an ingrown hair? What about several thousand at once? That’s why your tail does damage.

4. Barbarian 4: For your first ASI grab the new Chef feat from the new Feats Unearthed Arcana. Add one to your Wisdom score, and you get proficiency with cook’s utensils. During short rests, you can bard it up and prepare food for at least 6 creatures, adding another each time your proficiency bonus goes up. Any creatures who eats with you adds an extra 1d8 to their healing if they use any hit dice. After an hour of work (or a long rest), you can also make a number of treats equal to you proficiency bonus that last 8 hours. Anything that eats one of those as a bonus action gains your proficiency bonus in temporary HP. If this existed when I was making EMIYA, I would’ve squeezed it in somewhere, I swear.

5. Druid 1: Now that our wisdom is up to snuff, we can begin the traditional multiclassing! First level druids learn Druidic, a special language nobody in your party will likely know. That’s fine though, it’s not like they know what you’re talking about anyway. You can also cast first level Spells using Wisdom as your casting ability.

For cantrips, grab Primal Savagery for even more ways to claw people to death (albeit not very well, it uses wisdom) and Druidcraft so you’ll know if it’s a good day to nap on the windowsill. Druids can prepare spells, so you can swap them out as you feel necessary. I’d stick with spells that don’t need their saves to be high though, like Cure Wounds for some fast food or Longstrider because it’s not like you’ll be fast enough by the end of this.

6. Druid 2: Second level druids join a Circle. The moon’s a circle, and you yell at it sometimes, so that’s as good a pick as any. A Moon Druid’s features affect their Wild Shape. You’re willing to do things Tamamo Vanilla won’t, and that includes shapeshifting! Your Combat Wild Shape means you can transform as a bonus action, and you can use your spell slots to gain health while transformed. Your Circle Forms instantly max out your CR to 1, but you still can’t swim or fly. One important quirk of wild shape is that you can use other class’s features while transformed. We’ll be abusing that shortly.

7. Barbarian 5: Back in barbarians, you get an Extra Attack, letting you attack twice as an action (or three times with your special claws). You also have Fast Movement, adding 10′ to your movement speed while not wearing heavy armor.

8. Monk 1: Speaking of extra attacks and moving fast, have I mentioned you’re a monk now? Because you’re a monk now. You get another kind of Unarmored Defense that uses Wisdom instead of constitution and is therefore worse. You also gain Martial Arts.

You can use Dexterity instead of Strength when making unarmed attacks. The rules are a bit fuzzy on whether or not your rage weapons count as “unarmed”, but your normal claws do, so I say there’s precedent.

You can also use a d4 instead of your normal damage with unarmed or monk attacks, but all your attacks do more than that already, so ignore that.

Finally, attacking with an unarmed strike or a monk weapon lets you use your Bonus Action for another unarmed strike.

That means you can now make four attacks per turn if using claws while enraged, even while in a wild shape. Is this a bit silly? Yes. Are you a bit silly? Also yes, so let’s abuse this even more.

9. Monk 2: Second level monks get Unarmored Movement, adding another 10′ to your movement speed while not wearing any armor. You also learn to channel your Ki for some bonus abilities.

Patient Defense lets you take the dodge action as a bonus action.

Step of the Wind doubles your jump distance, and you can disengage or dash as a bonus action.

Flurry of Blows uses your bonus action to make two unarmed attacks. This means that you can now get in five attacks per turn while raging, a.k.a. that thing fighters can’t do until level 20. You’re doing this at level 9.

10. Monk 3: You’re not really one for a Tradition, Monastic or otherwise, but alcohol pairs well with food, so let’s become a Drunken Master. This gives you proficiency in Performance, because you do know a couple tricks, and Brewers Supplies, because you should be able to make a full meal on your own. You also learn the Drunken Technique. When you use your Flurry of Blows, you also disengage, and add another 10′ to your movement speed for the rest of the turn. 60′ of movement, disengaging, and five attacks in a single turn is pretty good for the action economy.

You also learn how to catch frisbees like a good girl with Deflect Missiles. Use your reaction to reduce the damage of a ranged attack, and if it drops to 0 you can spend some ki to throw it back.

11. Monk 4: Use your last level in Monk to grab another ASI, and round up your Constitution and Strength for less round numbers, more AC and health, and maybe more attack damage if you want to use every part of your rage. You also learn how to Slow Fall, a reaction you can take to reduce falling damage by 20 points. Cats land on their feet, and now so do you.

12. Barbarian 6: Finally back in your main class, you gain a Bestial Soul, making your rage weapons magical for overcoming damage resistances. After a short or long rest, you can also choose to gain a swimming speed and the ability to breathe underwater, check free climbing, or a big boost to your jump distance.

13. Barbarian 7: Your Feral Instinct kicks in, giving you advantage on initiative rolls, and you can ignore being surprised if you go into a rage. For once I’ve made a barbarian build where going into a rage is always a good thing, so go nuts.

14. Barbarian 8: Use your next ASI for more dexterity, which means more AC, and more accurate/damaging attacks. If your DM’s ruled that your rage weapons don’t work for martial arts, go strength instead.

15. Barbarian 9: You get your first Brutal Critical, adding an extra die to your damage each time you roll a natural 20. You’re probably rolling 10 d20s a turn right now, so that shouldn’t be an issue.

16. Barbarian 10: Tenth level beasts have an Infectious Fury. If you hit a creature with your rage weapons, you can force it to make a wisdom save against your constitution. On a failure, you can either force it to attack another creature, or deal 2d12 Psychic damage. I’m not saying it’s rabies, but it’s probably rabies.

17. Barbarian 11: Your Rage is now Relentless! If you would fall to 0 hp while raging, you can instead make a constitution save to stay at 1 HP. Each success increases the DC, but it also resets on short rests.

18. Barbarian 12: Use your last ASI for more Constitution to get more health, more AC, and more and better Infectious Furies.

19. Barbarian 13: You get a second helping of Brutal Critical, making your claws even sharper than before. Scratching posts beware!

20. Barbarian 14: Your final level grabs you the final Beast barbarian feature, Call the Hunt. When you go into a rage, you can give a number of creatures equal to your constitution modifier the Reckless Attack feature, and advantage on saves against being frightened. Each creature that accepts this gift in return gives you 5 Temporary hit points. You can only give this to three creatures normally, but Wild Shape also swaps out your physical stats, so get creative.

Pros:

You have a lot of attacks at a very low level, and you can go even lower if you swap the monk and druid levels around. Add in your reckless nature and brutal crits, and the other Tamamos will be your scratching post before too long.

You’re very fast, even in wild shapes, thanks to your Fast Movement, Feline Agility, and Unarmored Movement joining together for more speed than you’ll know what to do with.

You have a pretty good AC and a lot of health, which would normally make you pretty hard to kill. You can also switch into some pretty chunky wild shapes for even more toughness, just in case you never want to die.

Cons:

Just like Caligula, all your damage comes from your body, so flying enemies will cause you some problems.

Most of your stat improvements went into your Physical stats, which get swapped out the second you use a wild shape. This means your strongest defensive option is as good at level 6 as it will be at level 20, which just feels bad.

You don’t have a lot of Ki, so the worst of your rampages will get cut short pretty quickly. Thankfully you can take some catnaps between fights to get them back.

So yeah, hunt all night, sleep all day, and don’t be afraid to get a bit beastly.

Next up: Jenny from the Arc!

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #D&D 5e #Tamamo Cat #Fate and Phantasms

46 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip - Pt 16: Drug

The first thing you are aware of when finally regain control of your senses is the splitting headache that threatens to tear your head apart.

The second thing you are aware of is the woman’s head between your legs.

You are still bound to the chair you were sitting in when Joy had her way with you - a twist of your wrists and the resulting metallic clink of your handcuffs against the chair spine told you that much. The woman between your legs is nuzzling her small nose against the base of your cock, and with a soft gasp that escapes your lips involuntarily, you feel a soft wetness against your skin, slowly drawing upwards until it reaches the very tip of your sensitive head.

You look down to see a face - who was it?

It’s Momo.

When did she get here? What happened? She’s supposed to be back home, a million miles away. Why was she here, on her knees - and naked, between your legs, apparently just about to take you into her mouth?

…and when did she dye her hair?

A moment later, you have no room for these thoughts as Momo drags her tongue once more up the length of your cock, which, you notice, is rock hard; harder than you ever felt you could ever be. Was that normal? Never mind that - why was Momo here? Wasn’t she still mad at you for spending the night with Sana? She said… she said… what did she say, that day in the hallway, when you saw her last?

…something about… something about being done…

Moms pauses at the tip of your cock, and, satisfied that she has teased you enough, she finally takes you into her mouth.

From the second your head passes through her lips she feels different. Was it her technique? Did she learn something new since you saw her last, something in those girly magazines she always loved to buy but never really read? Her mouth felt different too - you were lucky enough to have had her mouth on you more times than you could count, but this time… this time was different. Her tongue was a little more rigid, her lips and the inside of her mouth a little more soft…

Even her hands are different now. Usually she only took half of you into her mouth, unable (yet, anyway) to try deepthroating you. But this time was different, and as you feel the tip of your shaft poke against the soft gate at the back of her mouth and slowly, painfully slowly enter her throat, you realize that she is doing she has never done before - something you had always thought about but didn’t feel you needed to ask her, because her oral sex was always good enough as it was.

But here she was, taking your shaft into her throat, and you watch through blurred vision as she adjusts her body to ensure your shaft and her throat are lined up as best as she is able. Involuntarily you bring your hands to her softly bobbing head, though your fingers and hands feel numb and soft, as though you were under anaesthetic.

This was surely the most pleasurable surgical procedure there ever was.

Momo continues to bob her head, and you feel the pleasure begin to accumulate, begin to gather in your crotch and travel up your spine to your brain, where it registers the ridiculously pleasurable sensation of having your cock deep throated by the most beautiful, most amazing woman you had ever met.

You feel small fingers begin to play with your balls, and realize that was another thing that was new - usually Momo would only take half of your shaft into her mouth and use her hands to stimulate the rest of you. She rarely, if ever, paid attention to your balls - not that it bothered you much. But you couldn’t deny it now, couldn’t deny the pleasure that she was inspiring in your nuts, joining with the pleasure radiating from her warm, wet mouth.

It was intoxicating. Intoxicating.. Intoxicated… yes! That’s what you were. Intoxicated. Small images, small flashes of memories return to you.

Joy… Joy! She… she led you back to her apartment. That’s where you were now. She was the one that put handcuffs on you. And one thing… one thing led to another. Clothes were on the ground, and her legs were around yours, and her wetness, her tightness… then… then a small pinch at the back of your neck…

She had drugged you.

You want to react to that realization, the realization that you had been drugged with who knows what by a woman who was clearly functioning as a honey trap… for what? For… God, it hurt to think… it hurt and it was hot as hell that a girl was deepthroating you and she was so fucking good at it, so fucking hot and wet around every inch of your shaft and fuck why did Joy trap you? What did she want? It hurt and damn Momo cut her hair shorter, it wasn’t long and black anymore, it was shorter and dyed dirty blonde…

Joy.. Joy wanted you to log in to something. What was it? Facebook? Your Gmail? Your goddamn World of Warcraft account from when you played in high school and your fucking party would always wipe in Naxxramas and goddamn, Momo wasn’t stopping playing with your balls and you had to remember to compliment her on that when this was over…

Momo slows down, and you can’t decide whether she is being merciful or evil. She sucks you deeply, her lips and tongue pressing tightly against your shaft as she lets you leave her mouth. You get a good look at her face again…

Her hair - her hair is dirty blonde, lighter on the ends than at the top of her head. Her face is a little rounder, her features a little softer - she looked a little different, in some way, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; her face changed, warped sometimes, as though it were a mirage, a thin veneer of her beauty overlaid over another woman’s.

She is also stark naked, and you can’t help but think that she looks a little smaller than she used to, a little thinner, a little less muscle on those long legs and strong thighs of hers. She was a little more petite, a little smaller in every way than she used to be.

Momo stands, and you get a good look at her body as she stands in front of you, not caring that she was naked, fully confident in her body and the fact that she had enthralled you, had you wrapped round her finger. Her breasts are a little smaller, her body in general slimmer, the body of a girl who won her figure through dieting rather than long hours in the gym. How long have you been in Korea? Maybe Momo decided to switch up her diet instead of working out. She was always complaining about having to go to the gym...

She turns around, and slowly, as though she were in a goddamn movie and she were walking in slow motion. She walks towards the kitchen table, every step slow and measured. Once there she turns around and hops onto the polished wooden surface, her legs crossed demurely as though she weren’t buck naked and you hadn’t seen her naked a million times.

She gives you a smile, but it is a smile you haven’t seen before. She had mischievous smiles, smiles she showed you when you caught her doing something she shouldn’t have or something she said she wouldn’t; smiles when you were fooling around at work and she told you to “wait, save it for later”; smiles when she would pass by your office, walk towards your desk without a word and whisper something naughty in your ear before stepping out of your office and acting like nothing happened.

But this is a new smile, a smile that made you a little aroused but also a little afraid, as though the woman it belonged to could give you the most extreme orgasm you’d ever had or leave a six inch pocket knife in your chest and leave you to bleed to death… or both.

Momo spreads her legs, brings up her right leg so her foot is resting on the table. She leans back a little bit, bracing her upper body against the table with her left arm. Her right hand goes to her crotch and she draws her index finger up her slit - her wet, glistening, juicy slit - and when she reaches the top of her lips she turns her palm upward and does a small come hither motion with a finger that is stained with her juices.

“Come fuck me,” she says.

That… that sounded different. Momo was born in Japan, and lived much of her childhood and teenage years in Korea before moving overseas; her English was excellent, but still retained a bit of her accent from growing up and speaking Korean and Japanese for most of her life. Those three words came from someone who did the opposite; someone who had spent most of their lives in the West, someone who went to school in the West, and only spoke Korean and Japanese at home with their parents...

But who gave a damn? Momo was always looking for ways to improve herself, always learning, always taking some online course in this or that. Maybe she had been taking some English classes on the down low. Your hearing felt a little dim, a little sluggish. Maybe you just heard the words wrong…

“What are you waiting for?” she continues, “come show me why all those JYP girls love you so much.”

Her English is perfect - that of a native speaker, without hint of accent. You want to ask her about it, ask her how she managed to completely change her accent… But she was also naked, and with her legs spread on a kitchen table, asking - no, demanding - that you fuck her. And who were you to deny her, this woman who had been such a positive force in your life over the past few years? Stupid questions like accents and different hair color and different body type… that could all wait.

You stand up, your body moving as though you were underwater, your limbs sluggish and slow. Every step towards Momo’s waiting form, her legs splayed invitingly, takes forever. But when you get there, and when you reach out with your hands and caress her soft, flushed thighs, you find yourself not giving a damn about anything else aside from the wanton woman on the table in front of you.

This is no time for foreplay; you had neither the physical capability nor the mental desire to put in the effort needed for it. She didn’t look like she wanted it, either. You were hard as fuck, she was wet as could she could be; that was all that mattered.

You take your cock in your hand, and all thoughts of concern have fled your mind - you line it up with Momo’s waiting, inviting pussy, her body writhing and squirming on the table in anticipation. With one slow, long stroke, you enter her.

She felt so different - everything felt about this experience felt different, felt slightly wrong. Her body is warm, and hot, and tight… but different. You knew Momo’s body almost as well as you did your own, knew every nook and cranny of it, but above all you knew how it felt to be inside her, to have your shaft covered by and smothered by her moist, warm walls.

But she feels different tonight; not as wet, but tighter, if such a thing were possible.

Momo opens her mouth and lets out a long, slow moan, and she begins to repeat the same word over and over again, her tone and cadence and volume rising and falling with each thrust into her body, as though the cock sliding in and out of her were counting the rhythm and she had to match its pace with her voice.

“Fuck.. fuck… fuck, fuck fuck… fuck!”

That word - so vulgar, but so hot - every syllable sounding simultaneously intensely arousing and ever so slightly wrong. That was a voice that didn’t have her accent. It was someone else’s voice.

Momo raises an arm to the back of your neck, and she stops her chanting of the word fuck to crash her lips against yours, her tongue quickly finding yours. She even tasted different, her lips softer and smaller, tongue more frenzied in its movements, more uncaring about passion and caring more about simply trying to stick her tongue as far as she could into your mouth as possible.

All the while your cock is pistoning in and out of her body, her pussy tightening more and more with each thrust, squeezing tighter and tighter around you with each and every entrance and exit. Momo tears her mouth from yours and resumes her chant as you hit an especially deep part of her body.

“Fuck! Fuck that’s so good… fuck, fuck!”

You spread her legs apart further, although you know you are already as deep as you can go. You feel the warmth of her soft skin beneath your palms as you place them on the inside of her thighs and push them apart, your hips thrusting forward as you do so, eliciting ever louder moans from the young woman.

Long minutes pass as you fuck her on the kitchen table. It squeaks in protest as the young woman atop it is rocked by your thrusts, but you don’t care. All that matters is sex. All that matters, all that exists in your world at the moment, is fucking Hirai Momo.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna fucking cum all over your cock! Fuck!”

Momo was no princess, but you don’t remember her ever being this vulgar, even during sex.

Her pussy tightens around you, her body wrapping itself around your thrusting cock so tightly you think it might squeeze your shaft off - and suddenly you don’t care anymore about how she sounded, and started caring solely about how she felt.

And in that moment, as she orgasms and her body pulses around you as she grasps you with her arms and presses herself against you, she felt pretty damn good.

Mid orgasm, you pull your cock out of her, and you hear her start to wonder why the fuck you would do such a thing - but then you pull her off the table, turn her around, and press against her back with more force than you probably intended as you bend her over on the table. She gets the hint, and spreads her legs, and while her orgasm is still washing over her, you take your slick, wet cock in your right hand and thrust right back into her.

You surprise yourself with how rough you are, how uncaring of her you are in the way you handled her body and the way you entered her without wondering first if she were okay with you doing so so roughly.

But she doesn’t care - in fact, she loves it, if the volume of the near-shout that leaves her throat is any indication.

“Yes! Fuck me like this! Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me as hard as you can!”

You follow her directions, your mind unable to comprehend anything other than throwing your hips forward into the tightness of her body. Your hands grasp her hips, flushed pink and moist now with a thin sheen of sweat. How long have you been fucking? How much time has passed? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

You raise your right hand and give her a smack on the ass, and she yelps in equal parts pain and pleasure.

“Yes… fucking hurt me. Fucking choke me! Fuck me and choke me, dammit!”

Momo never asked for that. Choking wasn’t exactly her kink. But maybe she wanted to expand her horizons? Maybe she wanted to try something new? Maybe...

You reach forward and grasp her neck, wrapping your hand around the front of her throat and pulling back until she is almost upright. You squeeze your fingers around her soft neck, not tightly, but enough so that you feel the pulse of her blood, feel the air rushing in and out of her body with each flustered breath.

“Yes!” she manages to get out, “Yes, choke me! I want it… fuck!”

An especially deep thrust into her body rocks her mind, and although she orgasmed just moments before you can feel her pussy tightening once more around you, the telltale squirming and writhing of her body telling you once more than she was nearing orgasm once more.

“I… I’m gonna cum,” you say, the words coming out slowly, the syllables slurring together.

“Do it!” Momo gasps, the fingers around her throat keeping her from shouting it as loudly as she wanted to, “I’m cumming too! Fuck! Cum… cum inside! Fucking fill me!”

You close your eyes, shut them involuntarily as Momo cums, her pussy pulsing around you as her body shakes and quivers in your arms. Her body is too much, too tight around you, and you let yourself go as you thrust yourself as hard and as deep as you can inside her, not caring about possibly hurting her as her pelvis is rammed against the kitchen table. All that matters is driving yourself as deeply as you can inside her hot, wet depths and filling her with cum as your cock pulses and convulses and sends your semen deep the young woman.

You black out for a split second. Or an hour. Who knew? When you open your eyes, you are somehow back in the chair you were in when you woke up. You are aware of your softened shaft, wet with her juices and your cum. On the table, in front of you, Momo is still bent over, her hips and lower body flushed and pink with exertion as she breathes heavily with fatigue - and between her still-splayed legs, a stream of white cum is leaking out from the spread pink lips of her pussy, some falling in heavy drops falling to the kitchen floor, some dripping down her soft thighs.

Eventually Momo gathers the strength necessary to lift her upper body from the table, and it seems to take an eternity, but finally she turns around to face you.

“I.. I’m sorry,” you manage to say, the words spilling from your lips before you even knew you were saying them. You want to apologise, want her to know that that night with Sana meant nothing, and that you didn’t want her to break up with you. You wanted her back...

“Why apologise? That was fucking hot,” she says, and the curtain over your eyes falls away to reveal a different woman.

Wendy takes a few steps towards you, that annoyingly devilish smile plastered all over her smug, satisfied features.

But before she reaches you, the welcome embrace of unconsciousness overtakes your senses and you black out once more.

---

When you wake next, the first thing you’re aware of is the absence of the splitting headache you had the last time you were conscious. Instead there is just a dull ache, a dull pain in the front of your head.

“He’s waking up,” you hear a voice say, and your eyes eventually turn the blobs and shapes of color you see into recognizable human figures.

Joy… and Wendy.

Thankfully, your arms aren’t tied to the back of the chair anymore, and you are free to rest your forehead in your palms as you try in vain to massage the headache out of you.

“Momo… was she… here?”

Both women shoot you looks of confusion.

“Your precious girlfriend just landed. So no, she wasn’t here, but she soon will be,” Wendy answers, and you know without looking that she probably had that same annoying-as-hell smile plastered on her face.

“What? Why would she be flying here?”

“To pay us,” Wendy answers, “and believe me, she’s paying us way more to keep quiet than SM would have for giving them your data.”

Your drug addled mind is still struggling to make sense of what Wendy is saying. Momo was here… to pay Red Velvet, and not SM?

“Wait, so you don’t work for SM?”

“Oh, we do,” Joy answers as she bends to type something in the laptop sitting on the kitchen table, “but sometimes we work for ourselves too. The money is better.”

“We could wire you the money. Why does Momo have to give it to you?”

“Cash is untraceable,” Wendy replies.

The thought of Momo travelling all this way to facilitate the payment of hush money to scam artists scared you, to say the least.

You try to rise, try to do something to stop all this, try to stop these two from scamming your company and putting Momo in danger, but your body doesn’t cooperate, and the sluggishness is still present in your limbs, which feel like they weigh about a thousand pounds each.

And this was without the dull ache in your head that kept you from concentrating.

“There there, just sit down, you big baby,” Wendy says with faux concern, “it looks like your precious girlfriend just landed and is on her way via taxi. She’ll be here soon. Once she hands over the money, this will all be over.”

A singing chime keeps you from responding, and Joy turns to view something on the laptop that is sitting on the kitchen table.

“The connection is established and online,” she announces, “and we have full access to all of JYP’s data.”

“Excellent,” Wendy says with all the aplomb of a Saturday morning cartoon villain, “why don’t we see what we have here…”

She takes over control of the laptop from Joy, and with a few clicks on the trackpad, she selects a file from the explorer window Joy has opened for her.

“JYP Financial Info… financial reports… ah, yes: JYP Account Numbers. This looks like a good place to start.”

Wendy double clicks the file, and unbeknownst to anyone else in the room, the slight hint of a smile appears in the corner of your lips.

A Skype window opens - on it are Park Choa and the JYP IT specialist, Yoo Jeongyeon.

“We fucking got you, losers!” Choa announces. Beside her Jeongyeon looks equally proud.

Wendy and Joy are stunned into silence at what they are seeing and hearing, so Choa takes the opportunity to explain it to them.

“Congratulations, you now have full access to JYP’s dummy server! And by opening this file, you’ve opened a virus that will allow my wonderful colleague Yoo Jeongyeon here access to your personal files through the little direct connection you’ve established for us. Thank you! Kamsahamnida!” Choa adds a small bow for emphasis and to add insult to injury.

“Cut the connection!” Wendy says frantically; beside her, Joy is already typing away furiously, trying to do something, anything to keep Jeongyeon from their servers.

“Aww, that’s cute what you’re trying to do,” Jeongyeon says through the Skype window, “but I’m not some noob.”

The two engage in some furious typing for a few seconds, but when they are done, Joy swears loudly in frustration.

“Fuck! I can’t… I can’t stop her,” she says, her tone tinged with frustration as she tries, in vain, to boot Jeongyeon from the system. On the screen, Jeongyeon has a smug smile on her small face; the look of someone who knows they are a class above their opponent.

Wendy turns to face you, her face red and flushed with anger.

“You little fucking-“

“I wouldn’t touch him if I were you,” Choa warns, “unless you want assault charges added to fraud, hacking, and extortion.”

“You might want to get that,” Jeongyeon adds, and the two Red Velvet members are at a loss as to what she means… until the doorbell to the apartment rings. Jeongyeon’s smile widens, her bright face positively beaming from the small Skype window.

Furious, Wendy stomps to the door and swings the door open wide - to be greeted with two police officers, and behind them, two females.

The four newcomers allow themselves into the room, Wendy rendered powerless to stop them. The two police officers are male, and the third, a casually clothed officer with her badge hanging from her neck on a chain, is a young woman with shoulder length dark hair and a cute face that is dominated by large, expressive eyes that were currently holding an expression of equal parts determination and satisfaction.

The fourth and final member of their party is Hirai Momo.

The female officer begins to speak in Korean, and you can only assume that she is reading Wendy and Joy the Miranda Rights; or at least, whatever the Korean equivalent was. Her two uniformed colleagues begin to apprehend Joy and Wendy, both of them pulling handcuffs out and placing them on their wrists.

Joy has a look of utter shock on her face; Wendy is equally shocked, but she has a little more anger in her features as well. The two officers forcefully lead them out of the apartment, and your last glimpse of Wendy is one of poison, as the young woman glares at you with nothing less than ill-concealed hatred.

The Skype window on Joy’s laptop remains open, and Choa introduces the newcomer to you.

“May I introduce Detective Park Jihyo of the Seoul Police Department’s Cybercrime Division,” she says cheerfully, adding playful applause for emphasis. Choa was rightfully proud of her role in all of this, it seemed.

The female detective turns to you and smiles, before noticing that you are still naked. A flush of pink appears on her cheeks as she retrieves your pants from where they are discarded on the kitchen floor, and sheepishly hands them to you.

“At your service,” Jihyo says, shyly. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. We’ve wanted to bust Red Velvet for years. Now, with the evidence we have access to on their servers, we’ll have the evidence to do so.”

“Glad to help,” you answer sarcastically as you slowly pull your pants back on.

Jihyo smiles back, her face bright and cheerful, until she glances at Momo who is wearing a vaguely dark look on her face and had yet to say a word.

“I’ll… let you two catch up,” the young detective says, before turning and making her wait out of the room, “I’ll be downstairs with the suspects.”

On the small Skype window, Choa gives Jeongyeon a bump with her elbow, and a second later the window closes, leaving you and Momo alone.

“Momo, I-“

Your words are interrupted by the firm open palmed slap Momo delivers to your cheek.

“You fucking idiot. What the hell were you thinking, trying to pull a stunt like this without telling me?”

You rub your cheek, the skin stinging.. The girl knew how to throw a slap.

“I didn’t want to involve you. They were dangerous. They drugged me-“

Momo raises her hand as if to slap you again, but she stops herself from doing so, her hand still upraised.

“You… you fucking idiot. What if they went further? What if they hurt you, what if they did something serious? What would I do then?”

You are at a loss, unable to find voice to your feelings, and so you stay silent.

“I had to force Choa to tell me about your little plan. What if she hadn’t told me? I was supposed to stay at home not knowing you were in danger? Not knowing you could have been seriously hurt, or worse?”

“I… Momo, I…”

“No, fucking save it. Don’t say another word.”

Silence reigns for long minutes.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Momo says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, before she throws herself into your arms.

You wrap your arms around her, aware that the soft sobbing you hear means she is crying.

Minutes, or hours, pass. After awhile, Momo disengages herself from you and steps back.

“Let’s get you to a fucking hospital,” she says softly, wrapping your arm around her shoulders so you can lean on her for support.

Then, with slow, painful steps, you both walk out of the apartment.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Smut #pov smut #male reader #red velvet #red velvet wendy #son seungwan

132 notes · View notes

finch-writes · 4 years

Text

morning routine

✧ bokuto koutarou x gn!reader x kuroo tetsurou / fluff ✧ warnings: small amount of swearing and haikyuu timeskip spoilers!

✧ five thirty in the morning is too early. you know this. one of your boyfriends knows this. unfortunately, your other boyfriend has training today.

beep. beep. beep.

wait, what?

you don't bother opening your eyes - it's five thirty a.m. in the middle of winter and you know there won't be any light in the room aside from what was cast by the phone on the nightstand. the last remnants of your pleasant dream fade, replaced by unfortunate awareness of the blaring alarm as it tries to get the attention of the room's occupants.

a rumbling groan to your left, at least, tells you that one of your boyfriends is awake to echo your thoughts. in a twist that might be ironic, bokuto is the one who set the damn alarm in the first place - so really the entire situation is actually his fault. pro volleyball players and their dumb schedules. for a moment, you consider sticking your cold feet on him as punishment but given that you've been cuddled up to him during the night means you're toasty and comfortable (including your toes) so it would be a fruitless effort.

“sorry.” first word of the morning is an apology and you whine as the resident space heater sits up in order to reach over your other boyfriend and shut off the offending device.

speaking of kuroo, the lucky bastard doesn't seem to stir. you can feel the brush of his knuckles against your thigh from where his arm is draped across bokuto's lap. you hadn't believed kenma at first when he had explained how kuroo's hair got its distinctive style, but after sleeping in the same bed as him for six months you were kind of used to witnessing the rooster's comb form in realtime.

wait, you realise suddenly, wasn't tetsu in the middle when we all fell asleep last night? it was always weird when the boys rolled over each other in their sleep. by now you'd lost count of the times you'd passed out curled up against one of them only to wake up with the other one half draped over you like a blanket.

you also know full well that if bokuto lays back down, he'll be back asleep within about half a minute. which you could understand, really, if you'd been in his shoes. but if he was late to practise then all three of you had to deal with his teammates at the end of the day … it just wasn't worth the teasing (even if you had gone to school with one of them, the others from the monster generation were just as bad).

maybe being stuck between his two partners and having to leave the warm bed at this ridiculous hour in the dead of winter was probably punishment enough for setting such an awful alarm.

eyes still closed, you sit up and immediately earn an arm around your waist for your efforts (somewhere between affection and support; you can pretty much picture the look of panic that flashed across bokuto's features when you sat up and the thought makes your lips twitch). apparently you're not the only one who finds this funny - your owl seems to be smiling against your scalp as he presses a few quick kisses to your messy hair. you hum and lean into the contact, resting your head on his shoulder.

“go back to sleep, babe. 'pparently we only have a morning session today so i'll be home by lunch.” his voice is still rough with sleep but there's an earnest happiness to it that warms your heart.

“tell 'em i said hi.” you mumble. the slur in your voice is almost impressive, you'll give yourself that.

“i sure can!” he responds, enthusiasm appreciated but much too loud for the hour. from his left, kuroo makes a sleepy noise of protest that might have been a warning to shut up so he can go back to sleep. bokuto chuckles, putting his phone down in order to run an affectionate hand through his boyfriend's hair. “mornin', tetsu. go back to sleep, i'll be quiet.”

“'n pigs can fly.” he mumbles.

“dunno, miya can jump pre' high when he wants.” you yawn, sleepy mind lingering on the setter without much conviction.

you aren't sure how much time passes while you dwell on the concept, content and at peace and very, very sleepy. kuroo passes back out at some point, evident in the soft snores you can hear. the moment is cut short when bokuto sighs and gently detaches you from his side to set you down in bed with all the love and care he can muster.

“shouldn't have slept in the middle.” he mumbles to himself. he then proceeds to nearly knock you sideways trying to crawl over you out of bed, and takes half of the blankets with him.

“hey,” tetsurou complains quietly, rolling towards the middle of the bed and reaching out in search of the blankets. you take pity on him as soon as koutarou is free from the tangle and readjust the covers, but his arm settles loosely around your waist anyway.

“mornin.” you mumble and shift so that you can press a kiss to his forehead.

“still nighttime. kou just gets up at stupid hours.” despite his grumbling he presses a kiss to your cheek and tucks his face into your neck. his hair tickles your cheek and your nose twitches.

“i'm still in the room, you ass.” from the sound of bokuto's voice he's somewhere near the chest of drawers where he stashes his clean training gear. the faint scrapes of wood against wood a second later agrees with your guess. nice. “besides, i have three nights home next week before we have to head off again!”

“not so loud, kou. neighbours are still asleep.” you chastise, soft and affectionate. a yawn punctuates your words.

“right.”

there's more shuffling, and a quiet mutter or two about the weather. from what you can gather, it's probably going to rain again. just when you're starting to drift off again you hear a quiet call of your name.

“mm?” you hum.

“you said the bento was in the fridge, right?”

“mhm.”

“okay. thanks for making it last night!”

“make sure you take the right one today.” you mumble, pleased by the quiet thanks. three weeks ago you'd opened your lunch meal between classes to discover fruit, nuts and carefully prepared protein. the healthy stuff that a pro volleyball player should be eating, rather than the poor university student who had used the wrong wrap because you had fixed food for the household far too late in the evening. koutarou had thought it was hilarious.

again, relative silence falls in the room. an odd static kicks up that's muffled by the walls - for a moment you're confused, but then you remember bokuto's earlier comment about the rain. now that you know what it is, it's a comforting white noise and just what you need to send you back to sleep.

---

some time later, you stir at the sensation of movement in your arms. adjusting your sleepy hold around your boyfriend yields the discovery that tetsurou has rolled over in his sleep, your face pressed against the nape of his neck. you take a deep breath in, the familiar scent adding to the peace set deep in your heart. you feel the vibration of his chuckle a heartbeat before he rolls over to face you, cupping your cheek gently in his hand.

you crack your eyes open, squinting and blinking against the light just in time to register the kiss he’s pressed against your forehead.

“mornin’.” you mumble for the second time since midnight, but this time you’re rewarded with a sleepy smile rather than a groggy correction. kuroo’s thumb smooths gently across your cheekbone and you sigh, content.

for someone who claims not to like mornings very much, he’s certainly fast to wake up - his golden eyes are as sharp as ever, moving back and forth minutely as he takes in your sleepy expression. he’s really pretty. you think fondly. it’s true, at least in your mind (and you know for a fact that kou feels the same, given how eager he is to drop compliments at any moment).

“sure is.” he whispers, and draws himself into a comfortable recline. he sighs a deep breath and tips his head back, and not for the first time in your relationship you’re struck by the uncanny resemblance he bears to a cat sometimes. it’s something about the lithe flexibility, or maybe it’s the front of arrogance and indifference which hides something a lot softer. it could also possibly be the cheshire grin that he flashes when he knows he’s doing something he isn’t meant to.

you roll over onto your stomach and hide your face in the nearest pillow. bokuto's, apparently, or at least the one he'd slept on last night.

“still raining?” you ask the fabric, but receive a thoughtful hum of reply from your boyfriend instead.

“i don’t think so. still cloudy, though.”

“yuck.” you'd planned to get some washing done and on the small clothes horse on the balcony, and nothing dried properly in winter unless it was sunny. you had a drier in the bathroom, sure, but you hadn't quite puzzled out its intricacies yet and might be just a little too stubborn to admit defeat to your partners.

a familiar hand placed on the small of your back interrupts your lamenting. it pats the fabric of your shirt twice in an attempt to wake you up a little more, and you think you might have grumbled something in response because it earns a laugh and another pat.

“c'mon. let's get breakfast and get going.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #my writing #poly ship tag #aight imma simp #i've referred to this as 'schrodinger's timeskip spoilers' the entire time i was writing it #was holding onto this one for a little bit tbh #just waiting to see if tetsu showed back up before i posted it #BUT NAH #it's fine #what school is reader from? who knows

111 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Twenty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

February 24th, 2001

Remy slipped into the night relatively seamlessly, even though he shivered in the cold rain that was starting to settle in. Maybe he shouldn’t have walked all the way to the college campus area. Even Emile drove there every day, and it took him fifteen to twenty minutes to get there on a good day. It would take over an hour to walk back home.

Oh, well, live and learn. Theo’s words were bouncing around in his skull, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to them. It was certainly sound advice, but how did he apply it?

More importantly, how did he know if he was ready with one person but not with another? How did he know that one specific person was the one he wanted? How did he differentiate between the need for a distraction and the need for love?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to find out.

March 31st, 2001

“Are you sure about this?” Emile asked, breathless in between their kissing. “Like, really sure?”

Remy lightly nipped Emile’s neck, causing him to shudder, and Remy smiled. “Emile, there’s nothing I’ve been more sure about in my entire life.”

“Okay...okay. I just know you got nervous before, and I didn’t want to pressure you into anything...”

“Good thing I’m asking then, isn’t it?” Remy teased.

“Remy...Remy. Hang on,” Emile said, as Remy dragged Emile to their bedroom. Remy turned around, and he could see the clear worry in Emile’s eyes. “You’re not scared? You’re not pushing yourself into this?”

Remy softened and pulled Emile in for a tender but desperate kiss. “I’m sure, Emile. I want this. I want you.”

“Okay, then,” Emile said, and together they fell onto Remy’s bed, already laughing.

Remy bolted upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to check the time. Seven AM. Dammit, he thought. Not again.

He’d been getting dreams about Emile and him being together with increasing frequency for the past couple weeks now, and it was waking him up at all hours of the night. To make matters worse, once he woke up past six, he was up for the day. He was almost always awoken by a “fade to black,” but the most annoying times where when he wasn’t, and he woke up in the middle, realizing it was a dream and feeling miserable.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a stretch. No use in trying to fall back asleep when he couldn’t, right?

When he walked out, he found Emile stumbling around the kitchen, slightly coherent but not nearly as much as he usually was when Remy first woke up. “Oh, so you do have days where you’re not a morning person,” Remy laughed. “I was wondering.”

“Mm. Didn’t sleep well,” Emile muttered. “Whatever you’ve been dealing with that’s keeping you up must be rubbing off on me.”

Remy felt an icy tendril of terror down his spine. I certainly hope not. “Bad dreams?”

“I can never remember,” Emile said with a shrug. “You?”

“I remember pieces,” Remy lied. He remembered every graphic detail of every last dream. This was driving him nuts. Emile wasn’t even interested in him, he had said so himself. “Nothing important.”

Emile just nodded as Remy held his breath. “Yeah. Hey, random question for you, because I haven’t been able to get this out of my mind.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Remy said, heading to the coffee pot.

“Let’s say if you were serious with someone. Like, you wanted to date them and they wanted to date you, right?”

Remy didn’t like the direction this was taking, but he said, “Yeah?” anyway.

“What would your ideal date be? Maybe not like, a first date, but just a date in general?” Emile asked.

Remy felt his stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. “I don’t know, I guess something dorky and basic, you know? Like dinner and a movie. Why do you ask?”

Emile looked a little pink around the ears as he said, “I was just wondering one day, and it refused to leave my mind, so I decided to put it to rest.”

“Oh,” Remy said. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. Even if he had new fodder for his imagination, with Emile trying to take him on the perfect date, Emile was just curious. That was normal. Emile got curious all the time. It was par for the course. Of course, the fact that he had to ask about Remy’s romantic life did hurt a bit. Just because he still did love Emile, and he knew that Emile couldn’t feel the same. “Any reason that popped into your head?”

“I mean...” Emile shrugged. “Maybe I have a little bit of interest in this one guy...”

“Shut. Up,” Remy said, his brain making a record scratch noise. “You like someone?! Who is it?!”

Emile squirmed. “It’s a little embarrassing, not because of who he is but because of where we are relationship-wise...and I want to see if it lasts beyond a fleeting crush...” he said.

Remy felt his heart be torn into shreds as his brain simultaneously tried to put the pieces together. “Come on, you can tell me, can’t you? This isn’t some revenge on me for not telling you that I was trying to get busy the weekend you were out of town?”

“No, it’s not revenge for that,” Emile was quick to assure. “I just really don’t feel ready.”

“Can you give me hints?” Remy pleaded.

Emile laughed a little, clearly nervous. “Well, he loves coffee. Sometimes it feels like all he does is sleep and drink the stuff. And he’s...he’s trying super hard to be kind to everyone he meets. Like, he always did have it in him to be kind, but he didn’t always use it. Now he is, and I’m...super proud of him for that.”

Remy could feel his heart skipping beats. Emile sounded like he was describing Remy. But, that definitely couldn’t be. That couldn’t be the case, because Emile said he wasn’t interested.

Yeah, a month and a half ago, his brain helpfully pointed out. And a lot can change in a month.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were describing me,” Remy teased.

Emile blushed a dark red, and Remy knew this was going one of two ways: he had either hit the nail on the head, or he was close enough to another one of Emile’s friends that Remy wasn’t sure he knew about. And...no matter what he wanted to hope, he was pretty sure Emile wasn’t describing him. “Is this one of your high school buddies? You know, someone you might see over spring break?”

“What?” Emile asked dumbly, before he stammered out, “Uh, y-yeah. Kinda. I’m definitely gonna try and see him over spring break. Even if I’m too chicken to confess to anything, I like getting to spend time with him.”

“You should tell him you like him,” Remy said.

“You...you think so?” Emile asked.

Remy nodded. “Look. You might not love me, and I’m coming to terms with that. Slowly, but surely. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving you, necessarily, but if you’re happier with someone who’s... not me, well, then, I want you to be happy.”

Emile smiled weakly. “Don’t get over me too quickly. If you’re lucky, I might catch feelings back.”

“If only,” Remy sighed. “Look, Emile, I’m not offended that you don’t like me. Did it hurt? Yeah, but lots of love hurts. It’s not that big of a deal. Is this your way of saying you have feelings for me?”

“Well, no, but...”

“No but’s,” Remy said. “I can’t make you love me. And it’s fine that you don’t. Just...if you’re happy with this guy, then be with him. Have fun, go on a date or two. You have my blessing. Not that you need it, but if it’ll make you feel better about this, you have it.”

“I...okay,” Emile said, and his voice was small. He took a deep breath, and said, “What are you planning on doing while I’m on spring break? Like, where I go depends on the hours I get, but do you have any plans?”

“I’d love to go to the beach someday, but probably not during spring break. All the college kids are gonna be swarming the place. I guess...I don’t really have any plans,” Remy said with a shrug.

“Then if I have bad hours, why don’t we go out to dinner some night? It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” Emile said, voice growing a bit more confident.

Remy was quiet as he took a long sip of coffee. Then, to be funny, he smirked. “Only if the guy you’re interested in wouldn’t mind,” Remy said with a wink. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your future boyfriend.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Emile said with a laugh. “So dinner. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

“Doesn’t have to be anywhere big,” Remy said. “We could share pizza at any of the joints around here and I’d enjoy it.”

“Cool,” Emile said with a smile. “It’s a date, then!”

“Careful, Emile. Like I said, if you keep saying that, people will think we’re dating.”

Emile laughed, a genuine sound that made Remy grin in response. Things seemed to be returning to normal for them, which Remy was super happy about. Yeah, they might not be dating, but he and Emile were proving inseparable, and that...comforted Remy in a way he couldn’t describe. Like, the world could be ending but at the end of the day he would still have Emile, and that was all that mattered.

“I have class,” Emile said, grabbing the last of his breakfast and heading to his room. “I’ll see you after work?”

“Same bat time, same bat channel,” Remy teased.

Emile stared at him a moment, before squealing and crushing Remy in a hug. As soon as he had done that, though, he had moved to his room, yelling, “I don’t have time to appreciate that properly right now but know that I appreciate it!”

Remy laughed and waved to Emile on his way out of the house. He sighed when Emile was gone, and poured himself a second mug of coffee. He had to get going to work soon, too, so he decided to stick to coffee and toast for today. Remy laughed to himself. Emile had two people in his life who only sustained themselves on coffee and spite? It must have been a very small world indeed.

Remy’s heart wasn’t even hurting anymore, he was so happy that things were going back to normal, and he was excited that Emile was excited for spring break. Plus, they’d get to go out to dinner together, which they hadn’t done in ages. Remy wondered why that had stopped, especially when he said that he didn’t mind it after he confessed his feelings. He felt like it was around the time after he had talked with Theo. He had never known a person to be nice to him just because. Toby was his brother and was obligated to do that to a degree. Emile was nice to him out of spite at first, and then out of attachment later. But Theo was kind to him without even knowing him well, and it opened Remy’s eyes.

You could be kind to someone without them being kind to you first. You weren’t obligated to be nice, but if you were nice, people would appreciate your presence more. And on top of that, being nice just...felt good, sometimes. And sure, sometimes being sickeningly sweet and nice to people in retail was done out of spite, but the shy ones or the people who were very clearly having a hard time? If you smiled at them, or wrote them a nice note on their coffee, it made a world of difference. And he found that he liked doing it more.

Sure, it took more effort. Sure, it didn’t come naturally to him. But all things considered, he didn’t mind making the effort to be a little nicer. If he could be a tenth as nice as Emile was, he was sure he could make friends with little to no issues, just by being kind and striking up a conversation. That was new, but it was something he wanted, and something he was willing to work for.

He was going to do this. He was going to tackle the day with a smile on his face, because the world was finally making sense again, and he could handle anything that came his way. Spring break also danced at the corners of his mind, making him smile as he pulled on the lighter of his leather jackets. Dinner with Emile. Even if that wasn’t as a date, if he really wanted to, he could pretend it was. Not that he would really need to, though. He and Emile were best friends, and he was more than happy with that.

Yeah. The world was finally making sense again.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #Emile Picani #ts sleep

5 notes · View notes