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danielxricciardo · 3 years

Note

Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

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kythed · 4 years

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I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)

I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!

I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨

take my hand

kuroo tetsurou x reader

hope you enjoy <3

five.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”

And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--

Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)

“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.

He’s not fine.

four.

Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.

He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.

Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.

“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.

It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.

“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”

three.

Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.

He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.

He almost makes it to autumn without incident.

The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.

The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”

(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)

The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.

“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”

(He was already planning on paying anyways.)

The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”

(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)

Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.

He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.

two.

He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.

Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.

It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.

“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.

“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”

The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.

“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”

“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”

Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.

As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”

“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”

You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”

one.

A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”

“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”

“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”

You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”

“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.

Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”

“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”

As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”

“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.

“The idea of an old fashioned love.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”

Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.

zero.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.

You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”

“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”

“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”

He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”

“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”

Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”

He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”

You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”

“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.

“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”

“Shut up.”

He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”

“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”

Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.

There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”

You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”

“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”

Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”

As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.

Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.

And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #friends to lovers

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste. luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays. The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year. Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with. Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway. He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped. He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go. He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years. No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door. It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason. Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what. He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though. He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though. He wanted to see everything. And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens. Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight. Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat. “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff. “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained. He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside. “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming. And there’s no party. I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not? I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned. “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch? Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked. “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding? I love Christmas! I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really? Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say. No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes. “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters. He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for.

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant. You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags. He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore. Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding? He didn’t care about that. He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes. If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation. That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner. He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door. He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas? Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door. The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up. He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly. You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely. “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges. “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy. “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya. It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way. Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff. But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes. You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and—

Damn, he was already hard, just like that. You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork. “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste. “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good. You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham. Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct. He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered. “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished. “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you. “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently. He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas. “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle. He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up. But he would deal with that then. Right now, he had a present to wrap.

There was a radiating ache in your skull. You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes. The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed. Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes. Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them. You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening. Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you. How could you have known he was this disturbed?

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you. “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen. You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned. You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking. “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed. You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening. “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot. Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected. He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant. “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl. If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way. You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed. “I don’t have time for that crap. It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you. How could this actually feel good? How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind. “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent. I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are. You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you. Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to. Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed. “I want you to see it. I want you to know that it’s me. I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too. Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already. You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove. A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled. “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine. “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain. “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop. I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him. “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin. “Never saw any empty packs in your trash. Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered. There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing. The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered. “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm? There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all. You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant. Would you like that, pretty baby? Bein’ full of my kid? I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault. Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy. You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp. Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame. How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before? It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you? Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth. “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly. It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth. It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways. Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed. “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip. “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly. After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling. His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly. It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all. It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince. Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs. “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined. It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly. “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk. “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it. Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante. What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.” Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it. “You see this? I’m still hard. You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat. “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped. “Please! Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see? I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him. You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined. Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed. “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back. The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain. He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced. You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh? How stupid are you? You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this? You’re fucked. It’s over. Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass. The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt. As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room. “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers. “Fuck, that’s better. See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass. It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it. “You love it up the ass, huh? Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted. “Admit it, slut. Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse. “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face. You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit. “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible. “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already. Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes. Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered. “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower. Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction. “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him. “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced. “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway. We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs. You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly. “Too good for just one night.”

#robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge noncon #robert pronge smut #mr freezy smut #mr freezy noncon

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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Are intuitive extroverts less extroverted than sensor extroverts?

Hello!

First of all I would like to thank for the in-depth mbti analysis that you provide on this blog. I have read for 3 years now, I enjoy it very much!

I was thinking about the extroversion/introversion levels of the types and I was wondering if there was a difference between intuitive and sensor energy levels. If being a sensor means finding information in reality and extroversion gaining energy from the outside world, is it possible that the sensory/intuitive axis influences the extroversion/introversion axis?

So we would have from the most to the less extroverted: extrovert sensors -> extrovert intuitives -> introvert sensors -> introvert intuitives

Yes, but it also depends on the individual. I know an ENFJ who can't stand to be alone, she starts going crazy and desperately starts texting people just to feel connected. I know another ENFJ who is the opposite, who socializes for about five hours and is tired, then goes home and wants to be alone for the rest of the day. Then too, it depends on what activities we are talking about. Fe-doms get energized by people / connections / relationships, so they are more extroverted than ENP types, whose Ne swiftly gets drained by any interactions that don't require or stimulate Ne (create new ideas, perspectives, involve philosophical discussions, etc). N's need and want intellectual stimulation and without it, they soon tire -- because any social interaction, especially in a sensory environment, requires them to draw on their lower functions to socialize -- an ENFJ who can't be in Ni must use Fe/Se (tiring). An ENFP has to use Te to talk about things (tiring) or Si to be present in the moment (hard).

The type I identify with the most is ENFJ (ENFJ 2w1 so/sp, maybe 6 or 7 fix), previously self typed ENFP and I even have been typed as ESFP based on my behavior. I tend to live for my friends, family and social interactions (I fear solitude too) and I have usually a very busy life but I found myself needing time daydreaming and rest from social interactions. It came to a point where planning something caused me anxiety, but two days of daydreaming and chill with my roommates I'm right back on my feet. Hence my thoughts about the need of "in my head time" from intuitive extroverts.

To me, that sounds pretty extroverted, but needing "down time" in Ni is normal for an ENFJ. They like to recenter themselves after too much sensory stimulation (even so, "chill with my roommates" is still BEING AROUND PEOPLE, unlike an introvert who might disappear into their room for a week before they are ready to engage again).

Looking at myself, I am fairly introverted in terms of behavior. I can be around people for about four hours and then my energy burns out. I need to come home and recharge (by writing, reading, watching a movie, listening to music, or doing housework)... but after a couple of hours I am "recharged" and ready to socialize again, unless I really am super tired physically. I get super cranky if no one is around to chat with online, even though I live alone. Spending too much time alone puts me in a depressive state of mind, but I also don't want people all around me, talking to me, all the time. I have stuff I want to do, that requires me to focus on it, ALONE. (Someone once proposed we move in together so we could write books in the same room, and I was like HELL NO. I need an empty house to write, thanks.)

Introversion can be on a "sliding scale," but the difference is, after a few hours to recharge, the extrovert is ready and wants to engage again -- and the introvert is still recharging.

#question #mbti

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night-owl-2000 · 3 years

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Lilith Clawthorne X Reader: A Fool's Wisdom Teeth

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written. I never thought in a million years I’d be writing one but here we are lol. The title was the hardest thing to come up with. My wisdom teeth are coming in and giving me pain so I got the idea to write this and it made me feel better. I’m probably still not gonna have mine taken out since I don’t seem to want to listen to my own logic and reasoning lol. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy it!

“Ow…” you whined from the kitchen as you tried to enjoy your favorite snack. Your wisdom teeth were growing in and one specifically was causing you pain. You gently rubbed the right side of your jaw and decided to put the snack away, sighing and accepting defeat. “Wisdom teeth suck” you stated, sounding moderately annoyed as you walked into your living room. “If they’re causing you so much pain, why don’t you get them removed? If I remember correctly, you said that wisdom teeth are not necessary for anything” suggested a calming voice from the couch. As you sat down, you looked over at Lilith. “The only reason I’m not getting them removed is because I don’t want to deal with the pain from recovery. Besides, I’d also be loopy from the medication and the last thing I need to do is make a fool of myself” you answered with a chuckle.

This wasn’t your first experience with pain from your wisdom teeth. About a year ago you felt the same pain you were currently feeling on the left side of your jaw. You had gone to a dentist about it and he had explained that the pain was normal but that there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. That’s also when you found out you were one of the lucky few who didn’t need to have their wisdom teeth removed since yours were coming in straight and your jaw was big enough to house them. You were relieved to hear that and giggled because your father, who had taken you to the appointment, was jealous since he had to have his wisdom teeth cut out. You had told that story to Lilith once during one of your many walks together. That story still made you giggle at times.

Returning to the present, you blushed slightly as a gentle kiss was placed on your cheek. “Dearest, you don’t need to worry about making a fool of yourself. I highly doubt anyone would seriously judge you for what you say or do while under the influence of medication following such a procedure” Lilith reassured you with a warm smile. “I know, making a fool of myself is the least of my worries. I’m more afraid of the pain. It would be much worse than this” you replied. You were stubborn. No matter how much pain you were in, you were not going to have those extra four teeth removed and you were certain no one could convince you to do so.

Unfortunately for you, the tooth currently giving you pain made contact with the tooth growing in directly above it as you finished speaking, causing you more pain. This did not go unnoticed by Lilith, who sighed and shook her head. She knew how stubborn you were. She was just as stubborn though and hated seeing you in pain, whether it be emotionally or physically. She was determined to convince you to get your wisdom teeth taken out.

“Dearest, I know you are afraid of the pain you’ll feel during recovery but think about it. If you get those teeth removed, you only have to suffer through one round of intense pain. This is your second time dealing with pain from those extra teeth. Based on what you’ve told me, you gain nothing from keeping them. Do you really want to go through this pain two more times and gain nothing in the end rather than go through one intense round of pain then be free?” Lilith asked as she looked at you. You could see the concern in her eyes. The thought of going through this same pain two more times certainly wasn’t a pleasant one. You gave the idea some thought, admitting to yourself that you’d be in pain either way, but you were still hesitant to change your mind. Seeing that you were thinking about what she said, Lilith spoke again. “Y/N, I hate to see you in pain like this. At least if you get your wisdom teeth removed, you won’t have to worry about them causing you pain ever again. I’ll stay with you throughout your recovery. All I’ll need to do is gather a few things in a suitcase to bring here. How does that sound?” she asked as she gently placed a hand on one of your shoulders. You took a little longer to think as you looked at her. She had a small, hopeful smile as she looked at you. Her eyes met yours and in them you could still see a hint of concern mixed with reassurance. You smiled a little bit and took a deep breath, having made your decision.

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

Today was the big day; the day you were going to have your wisdom teeth removed. After finally agreeing to get them removed following your conversation with Lilith one week ago, you scheduled your appointment for the earliest possible date. Staying true to her word, Lilith had come over the previous evening with a suitcase of her belongings in preparation for her stay with you. Seeing as you still lived with your family and there were no guest rooms in your home, Lilith would be sharing a room with you during her stay. This was not an issue for you two though. She had stayed overnight a good handful of times before and even had a small dresser and a few hangers of her own in your closet. Likewise, you had your own dresser in the closet of her room back at the Owl House for whenever you stayed over.

As your father drove you to your appointment with your sibling sitting in the front, you sat in the backseat with Lilith trying to stay calm. You were incredibly nervous about the whole thing and for good reason. After all, who wouldn’t be nervous in this situation? Seeing how nervous you were, Lilith did her best to help you calm down. “Did I already tell you about how Edalyn teased me as I was packing my things?” Lilith asked. You nodded and answered “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind hearing about it again though.” With that said, Lilith began telling you about how Eda had laughed and asked her if she was finally moving in with you. After the inevitable teasing from Eda, her and the rest of the Owl Fam, as you had taken to calling them, passed on their messages to her wishing you good luck and a speedy recovery. The story succeeded in calming you down and distracted you for the rest of the ride.

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

The procedure to remove your wisdom teeth was finally over. You had been knocked out for the whole thing but for those that were awake waiting, it felt like the procedure was taking forever. Everything had gone smoothly as expected and you were cleared to go home and rest. Also as expected, you were still under the influence of the medication that was used on you. Lilith helped you get into the backseat of the car for the ride home so you wouldn’t fall in and possibly hurt yourself.

On the ride home, things went well. Your father had the radio on playing some great metal music and the windows were partially open, allowing some fresh spring air to circulate throughout the inside of the car. Your sibling, who was sitting in the front, occasionally responded to the things you said. For most of the ride, you had your head resting on Lilith’s shoulder as you went on about various topics. Of course, you didn’t make much sense as you spoke but that didn’t stop you. Lilith had one arm wrapped around your shoulders as she listened to you go on about whatever came to mind.

“Lily?” you said as you looked up at Lilith, your eyes meeting hers. “Yes, Darling?” she answered. “Why are you always so pretty?” Lilith blushed lightly and giggled as she thought of an answer to your question. In the front passenger seat and the driver’s seat, your father and sibling chuckled and your sibling rolled their eyes, making a mental note to tease you about this later. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer. I am flattered though that you think I’m pretty all the time. Thank you” was Lilith’s answer. You offered a quiet hum in response.

A brief moment of silence passed before you spoke again. “I wanna marry you” you said with a dopey smile. That sentence caught everyone off guard. Your sibling couldn’t help but to burst out laughing and your father was trying to stifle his own laughter. Lilith had gone from lightly blushing to being as red as a tomato the moment that sentence left your mouth. She looked exactly like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck. You two had known each other for a little more than a year at that point and had been together for about 9 months. It was in this moment that Lilith was the most flustered she had ever been. She had to take a moment to think and compose herself before responding.

“I…we can get married after you recover” was her response. It took everything in Lilith to provide that response without turning into a flustered mess. The thought of marrying you was one that had only briefly crossed her mind a couple of times in the last month or so. The time she took to think and compose herself was the most time so far she had spent thinking about it. For a short time following her response, she imagined what the big day would be like. She imagined it would take place on a warm and sunny day, mixing together elements from witch wedding ceremonies and human wedding ceremonies to have a wedding like no other. What a wonderful day it would be, a day of celebration with family and friends from both realms. You cheering brought her out of her daydream.

“Hell yeah! I get the best wife in existence!” you cheered with a giggle. Your father and sibling were still laughing in the front of the car, almost unable to stop. As the laughter from the front died down and you settled down, Lilith buried her face in her hands. She was still as red as a tomato. Thank Titan Eda wasn’t there or she’d never hear the end of it. A little while later the car was parked, signaling that you were finally home. Lilith helped you out of the car and upstairs to your room so you could rest. Once you were tucked in, you were out like a light. You didn’t find out about what you said until after you woke up a few hours later. You knew from that moment on you’d never hear the end of it from your family, especially your sibling.

#lilith clawthorne #toh #fanfic #lilith clawthorne x reader #edalyn clawthorne #owl fam #I wrote this instead of my 4 page ethics in psychology paper that's due Monday #we love procrastinating #I had to come back so many times to make fixes because technology decided not to work for me today lmao

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clefairymuke · 3 years

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daydream | chapter two

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1420

After a groggy and disoriented awakening on Jean's couch, you and Armin were in his car, stopping at the drive-through of a coffee shop. You were both in your clothes from last night; you glanced over at him from the passenger seat every now and then. His blond hair was messy, even spiked up in places, some of it falling into his tired eyes. The blue flannel shirt he had rolled up to his elbows the night before now hung loosely unbuttoned over a worn black t-shirt, extending to his wrists past the light blue bracelet that adorned one of them.

His voice, though drowsy, was still soothing and lilted as he recited your order from rote, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the steering wheel to the beat of the soft pop song radiating from the speakers. The air infiltrated the cool floral-scented atmosphere of the car, leaving you to breathe a mixture of that and the warm, dry air that populated the outside. You hoped it wasn't this dry at the beach.

The first drink of your coffee coaxed your eyes open as you tasted the sweet vanilla cream and bitter undertones. You watched as Armin sipped languidly from his own cup, one hand grasping it and the other draped over the top of the wheel. You weren't the biggest fan of driving, nor were you the best at it. It had become almost a given that he would be driving wherever the two of you went; you often joked about what you would do when the two of you no longer lived on the same campus.

That thought always seemed funny to you, in that you couldn't possibly imagine it. As long as you remembered, Armin was a constant positive force in your life. You were stuck to his side from the day you met, defeating the most terrifying of playground monsters and braving the toughest scholarship essays with a grip on his hand and a smile. Some would call the two of you codependent, but you called it love. Friendship that persisted over any amount of years was the purest form of love, in your opinion -- it's a person's first found family experience. And it was with that undeniable force that you loved him.

Your long-harbored romantic feelings for him aside, of course.

"Are your bags already packed?" he asked you, finally taking his lips from the coffee once it replenished his energy enough to carry a conversation.

You hummed affirmatively, checking the time on your phone and rolling your eyes at the white numbers that read 7:46. "We just have to stop by my building real quick. What time are we heading out?"

"Well," he began, putting his coffee into the cupholder and running his fingers through his hair in a failed attempt to straighten it out, "we were all supposed to leave at 8:30. But you know as well as I do that everyone didn't jump into action as soon as I woke them up this morning, so they'll probably head our way around noon. Me and you, though? We're grabbing our stuff and leaving now." He was grinning from ear to ear, thoughts of your time on the beach likely elating him. It would probably never stop being his favorite place.

The car slowed to a stop and Armin put it in park along the sidewalk that led to your building. The card scanner blinked red twice before it finally accepted you, the door swinging open to reveal many flights of stairs; luckily enough, you resided only on the second of ten floors. You entered the room, the smell of the half-eaten cheeseburger on Sasha's bedside table invading your nostrils. Your bags were stacked haphazardly atop your yellow-clad twin sized bed; Sasha's bags laid empty on the floor. At least it wasn't unexpected. You walked to your side of the room and dug some shorts and a tank top out of your drawers, changing into them and tossing last night's clothes into the laundry basket. You popped into the bathroom and threw your hair into a loose ponytail, then brushed your teeth, taking your toothbrush and tucking it into the side pocket of your backpack.

You quickly retrieved your luggage, dragging the one that rolled behind you as it clanged down the stairs loudly and embarrassingly. When you reached the door and opened it yet again, you saw Armin leaned against the open trunk of his crossover, phone in his hand and clearly playing some sort of game. He noticed you as the sound of your suitcase rolling across asphalt grew loud enough to catch his attention. His hand was soon extended out in front of you to take the two bags that hung from your left shoulder; you handed them to him, feeling the weight the large totes finally leave you. You loaded your rolling suitcase into the back, then returned to the front to reclaim your seat as coffee Armin shut the trunk.

The next stop was Armin's dorm; it was less than a mile from yours -- one of the more quaint buildings on campus, with only five floors in total. Unluckily enough, however, Armin lived all the way on the fifth. By the time he got back, you thought, you would need another coffee and maybe even some breakfast. You considered the options for breakfast within the immediate vicinity. The food was unmatched in college towns compared to normal cities of the same size. Any meal or craving you had, there was always something around to make you decently happy at the very least. You considered what Armin's choice would be, your mind bouncing back and forth between iHop and Waffle House.

You figured this trip would be like the many that came before it; you and Armin would meet everyone there, all riding in Sasha's minivan to avoid paying parking for five separate vehicles. You would listen to endless amounts of music to fill the time, stopping every few hours or so to grab a snack and stretch your legs until the final stop at your home for the week finally came. You would all make plans to hit the beach or a seafood restaurant and fuck around for a while, before finally retiring for the night to get some rest before the tiring week ahead of you.

This time would be slightly different. You and Armin, at this rate, would be arriving around 4 that afternoon, while your friends wouldn't be there until the late evening. There would be four or so hours where the two of you could enjoy the vacation alone without the interruption or input of the others. You liked it that way, more often than not. You and Armin fell so frequently on the same page that it was difficult to disagree. Whatever was fun for one of you was always enjoyable for the other. You theorized that you would change straight into your swimsuits and catch the beach in the evening when it was a bit cooler and less crowded, then find a place to eat dinner. You doubted your friends would still want to go out after such a late drive. Afterwards, you would return to the house to wait on everyone, maybe having a drink or turning on a movie for a while. It sounded peaceful enough.

You saw Armin leaving the building, now dressed in a colorful short-sleeve button up and what you assumed were swimming trunks, as you doubted he owned any shorts with little blue fish covering them. He was wearing dark aviator sunglasses and flip flops, his previously messy hair now brushed down -- it was still messy, but in an on-purpose way. You watched as he carried both a suitcase and a woven beach bag that held several Arlert-approved essentials such as sunscreen and large, tie-dyed beach towels. You giggled a bit at his excitement, as if it were anything new. The beach turned him into no more than a child, the sparkle in his eyes never dying until the drive home.

He loaded his things into the back carefully before returning to the driver's side and pulling the door open. He practically jumped into the car and buckled his seatbelt, eyeing you to buckle yours as well. You obliged, and he reached for the radio, turning on more of the soft bedroom pop he so often listened to.

"You ready?" he asked as he put the car into drive, a smile on his face.

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Catch Fire - JJ Maybank

Request: If you are comfortable writing it than I’d love to read something comforting with JJ. I love reading what you write and I miss my friend dearly and love thinking about her.

TW: mentions of suicide

A/N: I remember the first time I listened to Catch Fire by 5SOS. It was one of only a handful of times. I was doing fine and the line hit “the ghost of survivors guilt can be so unkind” and I started crying uncontrollably. Writing this was like listening to that song. Hard but necessary and cathartic and I hope that reading it helps as much as writing it did.

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

Your slipped out the front door of the Chateau, away from your friends, and walked down to the little dock where John B’s boat sat. Far enough away from the house that the lights were just dimmed visions and you could take a moment by yourself to breathe. 

Kiara had invited you out tonight, telling you how much she missed hanging out with you and how fun the get together would be with you there. In all honesty you had missed hanging out too. It’d been a few months since you’d really spent time with your friends and you loved them, you wanted to sit around with them like you used to and just have a good time. Smoke, eat pizza, listen to JJ bullshit stories, all the things you used to do and hadn’t done in months. But sitting there in the living room of the Chateau didn’t make you feel the happiness that you were craving.

Sitting there on the end of the couch, wedged between the armrest and JJ you were overwhelmed with the brightness of the room, the sounds of everyone talking at the same time, the food, the music in the background, your head was swimming and you practically fell off the sofa trying to escape it all.

“I just need some air.” You promised.

But even out here in the dark you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Like you were chasing something that was just out of reach. You stood on the edge of the jetty, staring out into the marsh. The breath that couldn’t come before finally crashed over you in hyperventilating waves. You scrubbed your hands over your face, trying not to cry again as you tried to calm yourself down. The tears had started the moment you left the Chateau and as you ran down to the jetty.

You were practically sobbing when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, spinning around to see JJ there. “I’m fine, I’ll be in soon.”

JJ pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. He rubbed his hand in circles on your back as you tucked you head into his neck, tears wetting his skin. “Do you wanna go?”

“I thought it would be okay.” You said, voice brittle, muffled by his shirt, “I thought I would be okay.”

“You don’t have to be.” JJ said, kissing the side of your head.

You pulled away from him, trying to calm yourself down. Your whole body felt like it was shaking and when you tried to speak you stuttered through your sentence, voice breaking as you tried to explain what happened. “I just feel so guilty,” you confessed, “I want to be in there with you guys but I miss her so much.” It had been a few months since your best friend had committed suicide and you weren’t sure you had stopped crying. Every time you tried to go out you couldn’t. “It’s not fair, that I get to be here and I just-”

“Hey,” JJ drew you in again, quietly shushing you, “You don’t have to be ready for game nights and shit yet, no one expects that.”

“I’m just afraid if I start hanging out with you guys...if everything just goes back to normal...does that mean I forget about her? I don’t want to be said all the time but I don’t wanna forget either. I don’t want her favorite song to come on the radio and mean nothing. I want to talk about her, I want people to know how incredible she was.”

“So tell me.”

“What?” You asked, brushing tears away with one hand while you held onto JJ with the other.

“Tell me about her. I didn’t know her that well so tell me all the parts I didn’t know.” JJ said. He guided you over to the edge of the jetty and helped you sit down. Once you were comfortable, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him, trying to transfer his feelings into the hug he was giving you. Letting you know silently that he was there for you no matter what.

“I don’t want to take you away from the party.”

JJ shrugged, “they’ll be fine. But I don’t know if you will and that’s more important to me than anything else,” he admitted.

“What do you wanna know?” You asked, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes again. This time though you weren’t chasing a breath or trying to force yourself to feel happy. This time you were sitting with JJ and with feelings you hadn’t quite allowed yourself the chance to feel.

“Everything, how did you meet?” He asked, holding you hand in his and keeping you close as you started to tell him about the first time you’d met your her. You closed your eyes against the dark marsh, letting yourself cry as you talked to JJ, your mind wandering back to the memories you had of your best friend.

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

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how do u feel about online schooling, if you’ve experienced it?

I have experienced it! In fact, I am still experiencing it a lot. I've taken in-person high school classes, online high school classes, in-person college classes, and online college classes. Currently, I have two in-person high school classes and three online college classes, so be aware that that's the experience I'm approaching this question with.

I think online schooling has both benefits and drawbacks for everyone, it's just up to the person whether the benefits outweigh the less desirable parts. Overall I think I do prefer to be online for reasons I will get to later in the post, but that doesn't mean it's perfect for me.

For high school classes, I'm missing out on a lot when I'm online. Not necessarily information, though there is some information I miss because teachers needed to pare down their lesson plans. But there's a lot less discussion, which can make learning less effective. My high school online classes had virtual classes, so there were required google meetings to attend every day. Being in such a huge call, there could be internet issues, making it more unreliable at times and my anxiety didn't like that. Another thing to do with anxiety is that when online, if I wanted to give an answer it would have to be very deliberate; I'd need to unmute my microphone and talk, something that everyone else would be able to hear and I'd need to be really clear to ensure the teacher could hear me. All of that I hated. My high school is incredibly chill, so I can just blurt out answers under my breath in class without raising my hand, and because I like to sit near the front usually only a few people hear me, if anyone aside from the teacher. I also concentrate better where there is someone telling me what to do in what order and there's a time limit. My classes are 90 minutes long, a concrete number where the teacher has a plan on what's happening, so I can get more work done at a time with that kind of instruction (not that I'm happy about that)

I feel like the content was easier when I was online, but it became more time consuming to go through all the digital worksheets and google docs my teachers would share. They needed to make it easier for students to teach themselves and have less access to their guidance, so it became less complex. Additionally, I was easily distracted. With a real time online class, if I zoned out for a few seconds, I just had to hope whatever I missed wasn't too important because trying to figure out what they'd just said was more work than it was worth.

However, I did like being online for a lot of reasons! Online, there's no travel time. Right now, I leave the house at 6:50 to get to my school around 7:15, 15 minutes before my first class starts. Online, I'd just have to log in when class was starting and those 40 minutes I allow for commute could be used for whatever I want--usually music, daydreaming, though I did draw from time to time. For someone like me who has a lot of trouble starting tasks, every minute I have counts. I'd also drink more water because being home I could have water in sight more easily--at the actual building it's in a water bottle in my bag, but I forget about it a lot because I can't see it. I had more time to eat in the morning, whereas in-person I frequently put off meals until I got back because eating so early in the morning made me nauseous and wasn't worth it. I also didn't have to interact with my peers. Online, I'd log into the meet, listen until class was over, and then sign out. No small talk, no gauging others body language, no trying to make sure I was behaving normally enough to get by. I'm not really friends with anyone at my school, but there's only like 70 students in each grade and we've all known each other since 9th grade, so we should be familiar enough with each other to be friendly. Just today I was standing by myself in the hall and someone I hadn't seen for more than 3 minutes since 9th grade came up and started talking to me, which didn't happen online.

So I suppose overall, I think high school classes for me are more educational when I'm in-person, but I enjoyed the online format more.

As for the college classes, I've taken more online than in-person, and those in-person were several semesters ago and I don't remember them very well. But I didn't like taking them in person because they always had specific times that made it inconvenient to plan around. My high school classes would be back to back, but the college ones could have time gaps in between. With those classes online, I'm not waiting for anything because I can do the work whenever I want. Note: these online classes don't have scheduled zoom meetings or anything aside from one, so that's what I'm basing this off of because I talked about classes with meetings already. I very rarely have to interact with any other students, instead focusing entirely on my own studies. I don't even talk to the teachers! unless I have an issue or something I need to communicate with them, but that's seldom. That being said, when I do need to talk to other students it's awful because we're complete strangers.

These classes are very independent, though that can backfire. Assignments are given a due date and then it's up to you to learn/interact with the content and complete it. You're entirely on your own. So if you have a hard time setting a schedule for yourself and sticking to it, that can really come around to get you. I've lost track of how many essays I've written the day they're due, the number of assignments I turned in hours before the deadline. I'd do nothing for the first four days of the week, try and do things for two days unsuccessfully, and then cram the entire week into a day as I panicked. It wasn't good for my mental health, but it was really hard to break out of. And I doubt it would've happened if I'd been in person. I remember one night I spent six hours straight doing almost an entire weeks worth of French homework and finished less than an hour before the deadline, and it was such a rigorous final push that i distinctly recall telling myself that I needed to stop crying because I didn't have time for that.

But ultimately, the benefit of scheduling is a huge one for me when it comes to online classes, the lack of interaction incredibly appealing to. Especially since I'm a high schooler taking classes with college students, as I don't have a lot in common with those peers. The major problems I've experienced with it is down to me as a person, not the online format. Seeing as I take a lot of foreign language courses, I might benefit more from being in person, but I'm doing alright online.

For online schooling as a whole, I feel like it really comes down to the individual. Some people are more organized, more disciplined, so online classes aren't a problem for them at all and there's little sacrifice. Other's really benefit from an instructor's presence and being able to talk to peers and work in groups. I avoid people as a general rule and can get by scheduling wise (there are the slips like that french incident I mentioned, but I do make it work. it's just a little harder for me), so I prefer to take my classes online. However, I am aware that in-person can offer a lot of benefits that aren't to be dismissed.

My experience isn't going to be the same as every one else, so this is my personal thoughts based on what I've been through the past few years. My school was already weird before we get into all the ways education has changed to adapt to the pandemic, so that might affect things too. I do choose to stay online for my college classes and stayed online as long as I could for high school, and would continue to be online if I had the option for it. But that's because I make this work for me; you might have a completely different opinion of it and that's okay!

I think I got distracted part way through so if I skipped something or there's a specific aspect of online schooling or a perspective you'd like to talk about more, please send another ask! And feel free to share your own experiences. I mainly have my own to go off of, but there are so many others who have done this and I don't speak for everyone!

#this isn't even getting into the safety of it #that's why I stay online as much as I can #my dad is a nurse so I get to hear a lot of information about how awful/stupidly people are handling the pandemic #my parents are trying to figure out if my sister can go back online #she's in person at the moment #but it would be safer if she wasn't #there's a lot to it #so there isn't an easy answer to your question #because I feel a lot of different ways about online schooling #so if you want to continue this we can!!#quil's queries #nonsie

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

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BTS Reaction || Finding Out You Can Rap [Request]

Seokjin:

You'd gone home to the house you grew up in to pack up some things, you and Jin were moving in together and you wanted to go home and get some more items to make it feel like home, you were in the small gross attic going through boxes while Jin was downstairs in your bedroom going through boxes under your bed since there wasn't room up in the attic for both of you, your mum was talking to him while you continued searching, you were about to go through yet another box on the hunt for an old teddy bear you wanted to take with you but you couldn't find it, but you heard Jin chuckling at something, you frowned and came down the ladder to find out what was making him laugh so much, you went into the bedroom and found him standing in front of your old laptop with your mum, this was normal until you saw, or rather, heard what he was laughing at. On the screen, you were standing in your bedroom rapping along to Ed Sheeran's You Need Me I don't Need You, Jin looked so happy while he watched you rapping along with it and occasionally doing a little dance to the beat.

"Mum?" You questioned looking at her as she searched for another video, you had lots of you on that laptop, of you singing along to different songs, as soon as she clicked on the of you raping to Cypher Part 3 so you rushed over and slammed the laptop shut to make sure he couldn't hear any more of it. He was still chuckling along though even after you'd shut the laptop so you playfully glared at him and then went back over to the attic steps when Jin came out after you, stopping you and pulling you into a hug.

"Why didn't you tell me you could rap?" You pushed him playfully and he chuckled squeezing you tightly and moving you back into the bedroom,

"You're good, might even give Yoongi a run for his money." You looked at him, he was serious about this you scoffed and looked at your mum who smiled at you both before going onto a long rant about how you grow up so fast and how she couldn't believe you were moving out and going to start your own family at some point to which you and Jin laughed off before continuing to pack, together this time to make sure he didn't continue watching any more videos of you rapping along to their songs, and you made a mental note to delete all of them from existence before he could tell anyone about them.

Yoongi:

You were in the shared apartment shower, you thought Yoongi was going to be at the studio until late so you were going to have a shower before making him something to eat and take it to him at work, but he decided he wanted to come home early to surprise you with food instead of you surprising him but he couldn't find you, that was until he heard you in the bathroom, he slowly made his way up the stairs avoiding the creaking floorboards so you wouldn't hear him coming, he stopped outside the bathroom and smiled to himself as you were rapping, or trying to rap along to 'Agust D' you already told him it was your favourite though you told everyone else it was a track off Hope World since Hoseok was your older brother. Yoongi smiled to himself as you got a verse spot on and then went into the bedroom to wait for you, he got the bed ready for you to both cuddle in with a movie and food and then came back to the hallway taking out his phone and recording some of it for himself, you were now rapping along to 'Ddaeng', he smirked sending the video to your brother and Namjoon and dashed down the stairs when he heard you moving around in the bathroom.

"Yoongi?!" You called down the stairs, the towel wrapped tightly around your chest as you headed down the staircase to find him in the kitchen putting food onto plates and looking up at you, you felt nervous.

"Did you just get in?" He nodded at you, putting some rubbish into the bin and looking at you,

"I got the bed ready, movie night in. Don't worry I didn't hear you rapping along to my song and then ''Ddaeng'' you groaned and walked up the stairs, you were never going to live that down with Yoongi, he liked to tease you playfully with things like that.

"YOU SENT IT TO THEM?!" You screamed as soon as you saw your phone, your brother spamming you with questions about why you weren't rapping to his songs, you laid down on the bed, groaning as your voice came through the household speakers, Yoongi came up the stairs with a tray of food and a giant smile on his face.

"I'm so glad my embarrassment is entertaining to you Yoongles." You said sending him a glare and making a grab for your phone.

"But remember that payback is a bitch and I have much, much worse."

Hoseok:

You were setting up the dining room for a meal with all of the boys, you wanted to do something nice for them all before they went away on Tour and you wouldn't see them, you were close to each member, Hoseok especially since he was your boyfriend but you wanted to show them that you were going to miss them while they were gone. Ego came on through the speaker in the kitchen so you turned it up as you went to grab some plates, dancing along while laying the plates on the table, Hoseok stopped in the living room doorway, he could see you through the archway between the living room and kitchen, he watched as you danced along to the moves he'd been teaching you before you started rapping along, he stayed silent wanting to see how far you would take this, you continued and he was in shock. You were good at rapping and never told him, you switched songs over to Daydream and began singing along to it, making up some small dance moves as you worked your way around the table, over to the fridge and putting the finishing touches on the table. He waited until you were facing the cooker before making his way over to you, he came up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and singing into your ear, swaying you side to side as he did so.

"Wishing on a sky, Wishing on a scar," He sang to you, you were shaking so scared because you hadn't heard him come in from practice yet, you swatted his hands away as he continued to try and get you to dance with him, you turned off the music and the deep blush on your cheeks wouldn't move because he stared at you in awe.

"You're good!" You scoffed and pushed him in the direction of the stairs so he would go and shower in time for the meal, he stopped you and chuckled.

"Not until you promise to rap in front of me again, I want to rap with you." You stared at him and he was serious, he wasn't going to move from his spot in the living room, you glanced over at the clock, the boys would be over in an hour.

"I promise, now go and shower, you smell worse than usual." You joked hitting him with a tea towel and going back to the kitchen so quietly sing along to their songs.

Namjoon:

"Namjoon can you help me out?" You asked as you searched through your old bedroom, you were on the hunt for some old school work you were going to give a friend, she needed to study and didn't understand what the textbook was trying to say so you told her you had old work somewhere.

"Sure." Namjoon said getting off the bed and walking over to you, you were standing in a walk-in wardrobe,

"Top shelf boxes, it'll have a pink folder." You said taking one of the ones you'd found and taking it over to the bed to search through it, you filed through different folders trying to find the work but it was nowhere to be found. It was quiet now, too quiet to say that Namjoon was in your house

"Joonie?" You called out looking over at the wardrobe but there was no answer, you walked over and found him flicking through a folder, you walked back out and over to your box, thinking he was just looking through it for the work when you heard him chuckling, that's when it hit you. The folder he was holding was your old rap work, you dropped a folder you were folding and pounced into the wardrobe trying to take the papers away from Namjoon but he was holding them out of your reach as he continued to read the words you'd been writing.

"Do you have any tracks of you doing these?" He was really intrigued as to why you'd hidden the fact that you were writing raps from him, he thought you shared everything and you normally would but you found this cringe, you tried to take them away but he held them higher and shook his head.

"You've heard my things, I wanna hears yours." You groaned walking out of the wardrobe and over to your bed, sinking onto the floor and lifting the loose floorboard and pulling out an old laptop full of songs you'd been working on before you gave up on them.

"Here." Namjoon came over and played the first one he saw, you groaned a your voice filled the bedroom, you forgot this exsisted and you wanted to slap your past self for ever thinking you could be a rapper.

"That's enough." You said trying to pause it but Namjoon wasn't having it, he stopped your hand from hitting the pause button and continued to listen along before pausing it himself.

"If we get you into the studio we can make these better, you're good baby. Why didn't you tell me before?" You scracthed the back of your neck nervously.

"I just didn't think I was good." He sighed and kissed your temple.

"You thought wrong."

Jimin:

You agreed to start dancing with Jimin because you wanted to spend more time with him and that's how he found out you could rap. It was a normal dance day, he'd brought you along to practice with him since no one else came in on a Sunday to practice with him until later in the day so you had all morning to practice together and you were dancing along to Airplane's Pt 2, he'd been teaching you different moves and you were now dancing to the full song instead of doing it in parts.

"You're doing great." He said as you paused for a moment, you'd messed up a little on the footwork but you were determined to show Jimin that you knew you could do this, you'd been practicing at home without him but the only way you could nail down the moves was as if you rapped along with Hoseok's verse but you didn't want to do that in front of Jimin, you didn't want to embarass yourself in front of your boyfriend, although he found everything you did cute but you didn't want him to find this cute, you didn't want him to know you rapped along to their songs as well as sing them as loudly as possible when they weren't around.

You both began dancing again and you knew the part you messed up on was fast approuching so you began to concentrate a little harder, paying no attention to anything but the moves. It wasn't until you finished and were panting, going to look for water that you saw Jimin staring at you with a wide eye look.

"You can rap?" You frowned before coming to the realisation that you must have been rapping in front of him, you nodded sheepishly and took a drink of water before giving the bottle to Jimin to have some from, you were trying not to look at him but he smirked.

"You're great baby." The door to the dance studio opened and Jin walked in with the rest of the guys, you picked up your bag kissing him on the lips and going over to the door, Taehyung was smirking at you and then Namjoon smiled at you.

"You filmed me didn't you?" You questioned looking over at your guilty looking boyfriend.

"You're on the sofa tonight!" You joked as you left the door, going to find your car.

Taehyung:

It was a boring Saturday night in, Taehyung had the bright idea of doing a Vlive together, all of the fans knew you were dating, some supported while others didn't but that was life, not everyone was going to like you and since you were dating someone they all loved dearly you didn't blame you for not liking you, but Tae was insisting on having a TaeTaeFM with you while he could before he went away on tour again and would have to do them with the boys. The Vlive was normal, full of answering Army's questions and giving them life advice, as well as Taehyung singing along to different songs, giving song recommendations and then talking to fans.

"Does Y/N have any hidden talents?" Taehyung read out, looking to the side of him as you, you looked at the camera and shook your head your cheeks glowing a bright red as a sign you were lying and everyone knew it.

"What is it?" Tae asked looking at you, you didn't tell him about any secret talents so now he was just as excited as the fans in the chat, everyone was trying to guess what it was and couple of them were spot on with it while others were far away.

"I guess I can rap." You said shyly not wanting to rap in front of any of them but knowing you were going to have to, Taehyung grabbed the fake microphone you'd both been using all night and handed you the phone to look for something to rap along to, you groaned and selected one you knew you were a little good at and began rapping along.

Tae had stared at you the whole time in awe, you were amazing and he can't believe you hadn't told him before that you could do this, you smiled and looked at the chat, asking how they knew you could do it and they told you they found old videos of you rapping along to songs on the internet, you made a mental note to find and delete all copies, although now it was probably too late since you'd just been rapping in front of around 2 million people who were all recording it on their phones.

"That was so good Jagi," He said to you finally coming back down to reality after watching you rap, you giggled and yawned looking at the time, it was starting to get late. You said goodnight to the fans and then to Tae, going up to bed and leaving him alone with Army.

Jungkook:

You were working on a secret project with Namjoon, wanting it to be a birthday surprise for Jungkook for your anniversary, you wanted to write him a rap song but have it as a real track for just him and Namjoon, and maybe Yoongi to hear since they were going to be working on the track with you the whole time it was being made. When you first went to Namjoon with the idea he wasn't sure about it until he heard you rap, as soon as he heard you all doubts were out of his mind and he knew he had to do this with you. So every Saturday while Jungkook was at dance practice with Jimin and Taehyung you were in the studio with Namjoon and Yoongi, it was almost finished. You were just adding the final track over it and then it would be complete, right in time for your anniversary next weekend.

"One last time," Namjoon said to you, you nodded and began rapping along to the words you'd written about your relationship with Jungkook, about how he shaped you to be a better person and how much you loved him, the usual sappy love song stuff but in the form of rap instead. Jungkook heard you were in the building from Taehyung who'd seen you walking in with Yoongi so he was on the hunt for you, he walked into Namjoons studio and found you in the Soundbooth rapping to something he hadn't heard before but he liked it, he stayed silent since no one had noticed he'd come into the room.

"Brilliant YN, I'm sure Kookie will love it." Namjoon said to you, you smiled and looked up from the floor to see Jungkook standing there with a smile on his face.

"You wrote me a song? I thought that was my job to do for you." You laughed and came out of the booth and over into his arms, hugging him tightly and bringing him out of the room so he couldn't hear any more of the song that he already had, you still wanted to have the rest of the song as a surprise for him.

"You're supposed to be in dance practise." You said to him taking him out into the hall and standing with him, he smirked at you pushing you against the wall and kissing you.

"I was but Tae said he saw you coming in, I wanted to see my beautiful girlfriend before I went to practise." You smiled at how cute he was trying to be and kissed his nose,

"You're not hearing it until the weekend." You said pushing him down the wall and disappearing back into Namjoon's studio

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lovies-kpop-fan-fiction @yourguessisasgoodasminemate

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

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Chapter 6 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter six

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I haven’t been back to the Music Store since Monday. Too scared Emily might actually kick me out because she doesn’t want to see me. Too scared if I don’t practice enough, I might totally flop on Saturday and risk a contract or Emily not joining our band. It does make me wonder if she ever missed me. If she’s been searching for me. If she’s listening to other music while cleaning instead of listening to me play the guitar. If she’s been thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about her. Whether it’s been her tiny little smile betraying her tough façade or her voice blending in with mine or belting out the lyrics, she’s been on my mind non-stop. “Another practice after school, boys?” Owen suggests when we’re at Jeremy’s locker, waiting for him to be ready to get to our first class. Jeremy and I both nod in agreement. We all need as much practice as we can get. Owen watches me tentatively, then says, “I went to the Music Store again last night, to make sure they got our name written down.” I don’t notice my eyes widening at this. “How was she?” I blurt out without thinking. “She seemed a bit off, actually. Easily startled, that one,” Owen chuckles, and I do too but I don’t know why. “I found her at the guitars, she was tuning one of the acoustic guitars when I walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. She jumped about five feet high before registering who I was,” Owen keeps his eyes on me tentatively, making sure he’s not overstepping because he knows how I’ve been feeling in the past week. “And when I asked her about the Open Mic Night, she had no clue what I was talking about at first, but then she checked the documents and she had us written down.” I can’t help but smile a little at his story. Sounds about right. That’s the Emily I’ve been keeping my eye on for the past two weeks. “She had us written down as Sunset Cure, but I made sure to change it.” “Sounds like her,” I mutter. Jeremy and Owen both chuckle and then the silence falls over us like a soft blanket until the bell rings and we all split up to get to class. I’m nervous with everything I do. Paying attention in class is hard because I can hear her voice singing that song she sang to the girl in the Music Store mixed in with the song we sang together. Then it makes me wonder if she’s been working on that and if she’s finished it. I left the piece of paper with the bridge on the piano, I hope she’s seen that and hasn’t thrown it out. Then my mind jumps to the question whether she was off yesterday when Owen saw her because she hadn’t seen me, but then again, that would be ridiculous. She’s pushed me away. Why would she think of me when she doesn’t even like me? “Charlie?” A voice shakes me awake from all my daydreams about Emily. When I look up, I find out every student in my class is staring at me, including the teacher. “Can you tell me the answer to the question I just asked the class?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what we were talking about. What class am I even in? “Pay attention, please, Charlie.” I simply nod my head in response but sulk back into Emily-thoughts the second the teacher turns away from me. This day is going to be hard. Tomorrow is going to be even harder.

“You’re still here?” Owen asks on Saturday morning when he finds me still in Jeremy’s garage. We’d been rehearsing until late last night, writing some more songs until we find the perfect one to perform tomorrow night at the Open Mic Night. We’d promised to pick it back up in the morning, but I never left. I’m not even sure if I slept at all. I kept singing Emily’s song. “Did you even sleep at all, bro?” Jeremy questions as he picks up his bass. His eyes are still squinty, meaning he hadn’t slept too much either. “I’m not sure,” I shrug. Owen sits down next to me on the sofa and I’m sure I’m getting the infamous Owen-pep-talk. Even though he’s solely interested in men, he does give some killer advice on women too. “I’m not telling you to forget about her, Char, but maybe don’t get your hopes up too in case she really, really doesn’t want to be a part of Sunset Curve.” He gives me a sharp look. “Then again, judging from how out of it she was Thursday, I think she kind of missed her favorite returning customer.” My heart swells up at the thoughts of her missing me. I push the feeling down because Owen is right. I can’t get my hopes up too high. “Can we rehearse Now or Never?” I ask, getting up from the sofa to pick up my electric guitar, “I think that one gives us the most chances.” Jeremy and Owen both hum in agreement and get to their instruments. While Jeremy grabs his bass, Owen settles behind his drums. “1-2-3!” Owen counts us in, clapping his sticks together in the air and off we go. Even though we’ve practiced this song the most out of repertoire, it’s still a bit rough and not good enough for any music execs. Or Emily.

We spend a good portion of the day rehearsing the song, having minimal breaks for food and toilet visits. I think my bandmates might already be sick of me saying “it’s not good enough, it needs to be perfect!”. I’m not sure if I care about what they think. “We’re doing it one last time, Charlie. If it’s not perfect after that, I think you might just have to take the odds and hope it’s good enough for the music execs,” Owen says an hour before the Open Mic Night. He’s a great friend, but he can’t hide his annoyance from me. “Or Emily!” Jeremy adds, a bit too excitedly, pointing to me for emphasis. “Yeah, sure, or Emily,” Owen agrees with an eyeroll. “Fine, one more time.” I grumble and put all I have into the song. We’re definitely going to need a shower after we’ve packed everything up to get to the Music Store. If I say the nerves are really kicking in, I mean my heart is nearly thumping out of my chest and I’m very near death. I don’t get this nervous for any other gig we’ve ever had.

“Alright, let’s pack up!” Jeremy claps his hands when we’re finally done and lifts his bass over his head to put the instrument in its case. Even though I think we could do with one more try, I follow his example and place my electric guitar into its case. “Oh, no! Emily actually told me we could use the equipment they have there,” Owen informs us right on time. “Let’s just all go home, take a shower, get dressed and meet each other there, okay?” Jeremy and I glance at each other, place our instruments in their cases anyway, and then leave the garage. Once I’m showered and dressed for tonight; my grey ‘RUSH’ muscle tank and black skinny jeans will do. Or should I make a proper effort since I’m seeing Emily again? Then again, I’m going to sweat my balls off during the song, so it’s not like I’m actually going to look hot. No. This will do. In attempts to boost my confidence a little bit, I comb my fingers through my hair and mess it up a little bit, looking up into the mirror. I never wanted to be that person that gives myself pep-talks in a mirror, but here we are. “You can do this. Whatever happens, it’s good exposure for the band.” After taking another deep breath, I grab the stuff I need and leave the house. Once I get to the Music Store, something inside me stops me from going in. Something is holding me back. I’m not sure if it’s the nerves of the gig or the nerves of seeing Emily again. All I know is that I can’t go inside. “What are you waiting for, Char?” The familiar voice of Jeremy’s relaxes me a bit. I look through the window of the shop, immediately spotting the girl I’m afraid of seeing again. She has a smile on her face as she sweeps up the shop, getting it ready for the Open Mic Night. I think she’s talking to her co-worker. “Ah! That girl! I’ve given her a three cent tip the other day. I think she appreciated me.” I turn my head to look at Jeremy for a moment, wondering what’s going on in that head of his. That’s when I notice someone else has joined us too. “Do you want us to go in first?” Owen asks. He’s halted behind me and Jeremy, looking at what we’re looking at. “Yes, please,” I squeak out, then cough, “Yes, please,” I repeat in my normal voice. Owen and Jeremy head inside while I trail behind them. I’m not sure if I’m hiding or just don’t want her to see me straight away. “Oh, hey! You’re the Three Cents tipper!” Her happy voice sounds so much prettier than the one she uses on me when she puts up that tough façade. Not prettier than her singing voice though. “I didn’t know you guys were in a band together.” “I’m Jeremy, I play bass.” It’s silent for a moment, probably as she’s figuring out how a bass player and a drummer would form a band by themselves. “Where are we playing?” he doesn’t leave her the time to think about who’s missing. He knows that if she thinks about it long enough, she’ll know I’m the third member of the band. “In the back,” she points to an open double door at the back, “Ash will show you. I’ll be in in a minute.” How is she so abrasive whenever she’s with me but a completely different, sweet person when talking to them? What did I do wrong? I follow Owen and Jeremy, who are following after Ash. In my mind, I’m praying Emily wouldn’t recognize me from the back, but as soon as I take a step, I hear the voice she’s reserved just for me. “Thought it would be you.” I turn to face her with my best apologetic smile plastered on my face. “You were hiding from me, Charles?” She points to my bandmates, who’ve left me to my devices. “Uhm… Not technically… I just stood behind them and they’re taller than me, so…” I hope my excuse is plausible enough for her to believe. Then again, she’s not stupid. “Haven’t seen you stalking my store too much this past week.” Her voice is somehow softer. Somewhere between how she sounds when talking to Owen and Jeremy, and how she sounds when talking to me. “Yeah, no… Uhm, I’ve been busy… You know, writing songs by myself and stuff.” I don’t mean for it to come out so passive-aggressive, but I can’t help it either. “I mean—” I want to correct myself, but Emily interrupts me. “It’s fine, Charles. I don’t care,” that stings, “Don’t you have a soundcheck to get to?” “Uhm, yeah… I guess…” I look at her one last time for just a second before trailing behind my bandmates who are already settled behind their instruments. At least we had that.

By the time soundcheck is over, the room has filled up to the brim with people. Some of them look very professional, others are really here for just the music. My lungs clasp together due to the nerves now even more kicking in. “Ready, Char?” Owen claps his hand on my back. “Nope, I think I might die,” I would never be able to hide these nerves from the boys. “Let’s hope you come back as a ghost then,” Jeremy jokes – I think, “Ooh! Maybe we could start a ghost band!” I can’t help but chuckle at that, and neither can Owen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our monthly Open Mic Night!” Ash says into the microphone, her voice booming off the walls and filling the entire space. The crowd claps and cheers, but I doubt it’s because they know who’s coming. This is all Ash’s applause or maybe just excitement for some music. “First up, we have an up-and-coming band from our very own Los Feliz. Give it up for Sunset Cure!” I slowly turn my head to Owen, who’d told us he had made sure he changed the name. “I swear, I told her to correct it!” he says, holding up his hands in defense. When I look into the crowd and spot Emily in the back with the most mischievous grin on her face, I’m sure she did it on purpose to mess with me. As the three of us make our way onto the stage, surrounded by the excited cheers of the crowd, I glare at Emily at the back, but I can’t help but let a smile shine through. If this was her attempt to get rid of my nerves, it’s working because I’m distracted by all the questions about why she’d do this. “It’s actually Sunset Curve,” I say into the mic, not taking my eyes off of Emily. The mischievous grin isn’t going away anytime soon, I think. And for some reason, it makes her even more sexy. I strum my guitar a little, and so does Jeremy with his bass until Owen counts us in and we start rocking out. All of the nerves that had built up inside of me have subdued. Mainly because I don’t take my eyes off of the girl standing at the back, looking at us with her arms crossed and the mischief still persistent on her face. “Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge Electric hammer to the heart” Jeremy and Owen join in for backing vocals on the next part of the verse. “Clocks move forward But we don't get older, no Kept on climbing Till our stars collided” Jeremy and Owen now stop, leaving me to sing the next few lines by myself. “And all the times we fell behind Were just the keys to paradise” The chorus is for all three of us, our voices blending together nicely. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” While singing, I don’t tear my eyes off of Emily. I think I even caught a smile during that chorus. “Hear the noise, in my head It's calling out like a voice I can't forget One life, no regrets Catch up, got no time to catch my breath” I throw her a wink when Jeremy walks up to me to sing the pre-chorus with me into the same mic, as we do pretty much every show. It gets the most cheers, most of the time. “Clocks move faster Cause it's all we're after now, oh Won't stop climbing Cause this is our time, yeah” I push him away from me, focusing on Emily again. “When all the days felt black and white Those were the best shades of my life” We lapse into the chorus again and the crowd gets up from their chairs to dance along with us. Emily, however, stays put in the position I saw her in when the song started. Besides the occasional head-bop, she just stares with that mischievous grin and her arms crossed. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” As Owen takes the bridge, I walk to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We ain't searching for tomorrow” “Tomorrow,” Jeremy echoes. “'Cause we got all we need today” “Today” goes Jeremy again as I walk back to my microphone. “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,” I sing. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain,” Jeremy’s high note sends shivers down my spine, and I almost forget to move away from the microphone to do my favorite part. Owen and Jeremy move from their mics too, and all of us stop playing the instruments, shouting the first part of the chorus into the crowd whilst clapping our hands. Thankfully, the crowd obeys and claps along with us. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now” We pick up our instruments and move behind our microphones again, finishing up the song. “And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never.” The crowd erupts into explosive applause and cheers. But all I see is Emily, slow-clapping her way towards us, but stops when she reaches the last row of the crowd. I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as Owen and Jeremy join me for a bow. “That was explosive, you guys!” Ash says into the mic as she runs up the stage again. “Sunset Curve, everybody!” The applause doesn’t die down yet, instead, it just grows louder. “Tell your friends!” Jeremy yells, earning even more cheers from the ladies on the first row. The three of us walk off stage as Ash announces the next artist. The second I walk into the crowd; my eyes are scanning ferociously for any sign of Emily. “Sunset Curve,” a stranger approaches us, “My name’s Bob, I’m looking for hot new talent such as yourself,” he shakes hands with all of us, but I’m only half there. Emily is in the store again, cleaning up and sorting through stuff. It’s when I realize I don’t care what Bob over here thought. I need to know what Emily thought. “Yeah, yeah, just a second, Bob,” I say, not even looking at him and making my way to the store without saying another word or waiting for a response from Bob or any of the guys. “Hey,” I greet once I’ve approached the girl in the Music Store. It feels exactly the same as it did when I first met her, and she just sang that beautiful song. The nerves kicking in again, my hands getting clammy and my throat closing up. Exactly like that first day. “Ah, Rockstar,” she mumbles, not even awarding me with a glance. She does recognize my voice, though. That’s a plus. “That wasn’t half bad out there.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Half bad?” I ask, “Ems, me and my band rocked it out there.” If she’s surprised by the nickname, she doesn’t show it. I’m surprised myself that I used it. “Eh.” There’s that mischievous grin of hers again. Something tells me that means she doesn’t mean a word she says. I follow after her like an obedient puppy as she walks towards the piano again to sort through her sheet music. From over her shoulder, I can see my crumbled up paper sticking out of the bundle. “I think you liked our song, but you’re just too shy to tell me,” my mouth says without permission of my brain. She turns her head to me, giving me a sharp glare. “Sure, you tell yourself that, Charles.” I shake my head at her while she walks away from me again. “Can I help you with anything else? I still got work to do.” I bite my lip to make sure my mouth doesn’t go off without permission of my brain again. Because there are so many things I want to tell her. “Hey Emily!” Owen’s voice sounds from behind me, and when I turn my head, I find both bandmates standing beside me. Emily turns her head at the sound of Owen’s voice, a smile immediately turning her scowl reserved for me upside down. “Oh hey boys! You killed it out there!” My mouth drops open as I glance from my bandmates to Emily and back. “But—you,” I point to Emily, “W—me, Huh? What?!” All I get from her is that mischievous grin again. I knew she liked the song. Why can’t she just tell me the truth? She’s messing with me. “Thanks, girl!” Jeremy says with the widest grin on his face. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Char?” He pats me on the back, pointing to Emily for emphasis. “Yeah, very nice,” now it’s my time to scowl at her. “We just wanted to thank you for giving us a head’s up about this Open Mic thing,” Owen chimes in to simmer things down a little. “We had a very important guy talking to us just now.” I know the snarky emphasis on his words are directed at me, but I can’t be bothered to care. I just want to know what Emily’s deal is. Why can’t she warm up to me like she did to Owen and Jeremy? “Oh, that’s so good! But if it’s Bob, don’t believe him.” The boys and I glance at each other with wide eyes. “It was Bob, wasn’t it?” All three of us nod our heads in response. “Yeah, he’s a scammer. We try to keep him out, but he always manages to weasel his way back in.” “That’s why Ash came between us,” Owen now realizes. “Yeah…” Emily trails off, “Sorry, guys.” “Oh, it’s fine! At least you liked our song!” Jeremy says excitedly, “So much so you might join our band? Charlie over here tells us you’re an amazing singer-songwriter.” He pats my shoulder again. Emily’s smile falters, her eyes growing sadder with the second. She glances up at me. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do that. I – uhm… If I told you I had a really decent reason that I can’t talk about, would you believe me?” At least this answer is a bit less harsh than what she’s given me the other day. “So she is a witch!” Jeremy whispers with wide eyes. “What?” Emily’s sad face makes room for a confused face. Exactly the face Owen and I pull every day at least fifty times. “She’s not a witch, Jere!” I tell him off with an eyeroll. “We believe you have a good reason not to join our band,” Owen replies to Emily, “If you change your mind, we’ll welcome you with open arms.” His words seem to put that gorgeous smile of hers back on her pretty face. I sometimes forget how beautiful she really is until she smiles like that. With her long, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail that cascades alongside her neck, and her magical dark eyes with a fleck of green. I think she might just be the most beautiful girl I ever did see. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.” She glances at me and for once, her smile doesn’t turn back into a scowl. There’s a fuzzy, warm feeling in my chest. One that calms my heart down. One that seems to solve all of my problems at once. “See you around, Emily,” Owen taps the counter and turns around to make his way to the door. Jeremy throws up a peace sign whilst muttering a “Bye” and following behind Owen, leaving me with her. “Thanks for telling us about the Open Mic,” I tell her, pointing to the now closed double door with the music streaming out of it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I raise my hand in a wave and turn around to go and find my bandmates again. “Hey,” her voice stops me halfway there, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” I turn my face and get rewarded with an actual, genuine smile from Emily. It even turns the corners of my mouth upwards. “See you, Charles.” Still calling me Charles. “Right, yeah,” I wave again, “See you, Ems.” I still catch a glimpse of a blush before I head out the door to find my bandmates waiting for me. “She liked our music?” Owen tries to cheer me up, even though that’s not necessary. I’ve been rewarded with the most beautiful, genuine smile from the most beautiful woman on this planet. I don’t need cheering up. “I’m sure she’ll join our band in no time,” says Jeremy with a reassuring smile. Even if she does, she’s not that abrasive towards me anymore. She even gave me a smile. A smile. From Emily.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92

Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina

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elianthvia · 3 years

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7 Reasons Why I Quit

(only for a little bit)

It has, alas, been another few weeks since I posted. I have an excuse for my unpunctuality: I've been spinning non-stop like a top. The conclusion of the last Zoomester and the start of summer are to blame. I have seven partners in crime.

Culprit 1: Puppetry Workshop

Towards the end of the year, DTI (Design Thinking Initiative), in collaboration with the Theatre Shop, hosted an in-person puppetry workshop where a small number of people could participate per covid protocols. In-person events were few and far between this semester, so of course I rushed to sign up. The workshop ran for about 2 hours on three consecutive Mondays. We met in the theatre shop inside Mendenhall Center for Performing Arts.

The first day we made shadow puppets (and mine was a bee); the second day we made hand puppets (mine was a ... cyclop ghost king?); the third day we made marionette or string puppets (I attempted to make a teru teru bōzu, but everyone thought it a ghost). I had a lot of fun trying different fabrics, re-learning how to use a bandsaw, and magically joining things together with the help of a hot glue gun. (Side note: Polymer chemistry is the magician behind the scene, and I will be learning more about the science of hot glue guns in the polymer class I am taking next semester!) The workshop was surprisingly not as popular as I anticipated, maybe because people were busy as the semester came to a close. The good news is that DTI will be running the workshop again in the fall so more people will get to participate.

(Is she a ghost or teru teru bōzu?)

Culprit 2: Spring Piano Recital

I did not expect to attend a live concert this semester, but I was invited to the spring piano recital as a "special guest." It is a habit I developed while working as a concert crew at Sage, to sit outside the Sweeney Concert Hall and listen to the rehearsals after I finished setting up the stage. That day I was going to do homework outside the concert hall while waiting for my performing friend to finish. The piano instructor spotted me and asked me if I wanted to join. Disbelieving in my good luck, I accepted the invite. About ten students were scattered in the almost empty concert that felt sad and lonesome, but soon music filled the air. I thoroughly enjoyed every performance. Lots of Chopin were played, but my favorite one is Rhapsody in Blue which just entered the public domain this year. All pieces are about or more than a century old, which is not a surprise, but refreshingly, there is a piece by a female composer, Amy Beach, whose granduncle co-founded Bates College. You can find the full program here.

Culprit 3: End of Classes

The end of classes was epitomized by professor-resembling pixels on our computer screens bidding us goodbye. Usually professors would plan something fun for the last day of classes, virtually as well.

I remember last semester my Multivariable Calculus professor changed his virtual background to a wall of donuts, explaining that during the pre-pandemic times he used to bring a box of donuts for students on the last day. This semester in Mathematical Methods for Physicists and Engineers, we explored the applications of Fourier Transform by looking at the velocity of a star and detecting the number of planets around it. Our last Circuit Theory lab was in person, where we got to listen to a song/piece of our own choice through the low pass filter and the high pass filter pictured below. The professor handed out prizes (cool items she accumulated in conferences) to students to reward them for their participation in the pre-class trivia games. I received a mini glow moon. In addition, our circuits professor left out end-of-class fun packs with origami papers and stickers outside her office. Our last Organic Chemistry lab was also in-person, where each lab group presented their experiments and findings (through a projector rather than Zoom screen share!) My presentation group decided to dress up for this special occasion after a long year of virtual school. Lastly, for Organic Chemistry, we played organic chemistry jeopardy in our last lecture.

With all the professors wishing you a happy summer, you start daydreaming about the sunny beach and breezy wind. Oh wait, you still have final exams to take. All in three days!

Culprit 4: Final Examinations

This semester we had a three-day final exam study period (or reading period) when professors are not allowed to assign any homework or set deadlines. Right after the reading period is our final exams. Smith is known for its flexibility when it comes to exams thanks to its Honor Code system. Many exams are self-scheduled. Some are open-notes, and some are untimed. In a normal year, students go to Seelye Hall to print out and take the exams when they feel prepared.

For the classes I am taking this semester, I had three hours to take my Math Methods final, a whole day to take the Circuits Theory final, and the entire finals period to take my Organic Chemistry I final. Besides the exams, I had several other writing assignments to turn in. I was very fatigued at the end of the semester, so even though I only had three exams, I struggled to muster up mental energy to study. To make things worse, I got my second Pfizer shot during the reading period and had a pretty bad reaction. As a result, I asked the class dean to give me an extension on an exam, which was generously granted, and I was gratefully less overwhelmed.

Culprit 5: SmithCycle

The finals are now over, but my vacation didn't start yet. I am staying on campus for a few extra weeks to work for SmithCycle. SmithCycle is a program that collects, sorts and redistributes gently used dorm items students donate in the move-out process at the end of each school year. It gives purpose to items of reusable value and creates a more sustainable campus. In the past week, we have collected hundreds of bags (no exaggerations!) of items. Besides clothes, books, school and dorm supplies, some of the unexpected items include coffee makers, brand new water filters, and a monitor. One of my coworkers commented that first-years shouldn't have to shop clothes hangers again while they were going through three boxes of donated hangers.

The winter clothes we collected are going to the International Students and Scholars Office. They have an event called Winter Clothes Closet every fall where international students "shop" for free to help them get accustomed to the New England weather. School supplies will be moved into the Common Goods Resources Center which CEEDS hopes to launch in Fall 2021 (very exciting!). I cannot plug SmithCycle enough. If you are an incoming first-year, visit the Common Goods Resources center before you head to Target!

I have always been interested in sustainability and renewable energy and want to get more involved. When I saw the SmithCycle worker position posted on Workday, I immediately applied. Every SmithCycle worker's job varies. I am mainly responsible for washing and drying the linens and blankets. When waiting for the washer and dryer, I help with unloading the van that circulates between houses to pick up bags of donations. I also help with sorting. Pictured below is the inside of Scott Gym where all the items are currently stored.

Culprit 7: Summer Housing

As college transitions into summer, students who are staying on campus for some part of the summer had to move out of their spring housing assignment into their summer housing. I moved from Chapin, the house in central campus, to Capen, which is on the periphery of Smith. I know Chapin and Capen sound alike, but they are very different houses location-wise and personality-wise! To make up for its distance to the academic buildings, Capen House has its own garden, Capen Garden. The garden a gorgeous place many current Smithies are missing out on. There is a mini fountain, hedges, a garden temple, a plant arch, and a bizarre owl statue. Look at the last picture of the garden in this blog, and you will agree with me that the Paradise Pond is overrated.

Built in 1825 and acquired by Smith in 1921, Capen House is named after Bessie Capen, the second woman to be admitted to MIT. She taught chemistry at Smith College. Fun fact: Bessie Capen was once the associate principal of the Mary A. Burnham School for Girls, now Stoneleigh-Burham School; I went there for horseback riding lessons during my first year at Smith. Small world, right?

Case Closed

Thanks for reading this long-ish explanation. I hope my tardiness in delivering this post may be justified by the causes above. To compensate, I will write about my other summer plans and updates in the next few weeks. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

#puppetry #piano #music #finals #smithcycle #capen house #capen garden #summer #pfizer #college #Smith College

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