#it last probably 40 seconds tops then stopped
Text
Choose You
College!Miguel O'hara x Chubby Black reader
Warnings: Smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, piv, Gwen Stacy is a bitch (love Gwen but I needed a bully 😭), fatphobia, bullying, name calling (piggy, whale, etc)
A/N: This is really bad I'm sorry! I had a mild mental health crisis halfway through writing this but I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️
@optimuslaim
Your head hangs low as you eat your breakfast in the dining hall. The noise of the hall dulls your thoughts as you play with the runny eggs on your plate. That is quickly interrupted by Gwen Stacy slamming her tray on the table. Gwen is the resident Regina George of your college campus. You used to fly under her radar but ever since you started dating Miguel O'hara, the star quarterback, she has been relentless in her harassment.
"Hey piggy, I saw you sitting here so I brought you some food so you won't get hungry while you sit alone. I guess your "boyfriend" doesn't want to be seen in public with you," Regina mocks, gesturing to the tray she had slammed next to you. The plate has a heaping pile of bacon and sausage with at least ten pieces of toast on top.
"Gwen, fuck off. Just accept the fact that not every guy at this school is not up your ass," you retort. You pick up your tray and walk towards the trash can.
"Miguel is only dating you as a joke. No guy here would ever be into a whale like you." Gwen pushes you straight into the trash can that you had stopped in front of. The can tips over, spilling the morning's trash onto the floor. The room goes silent as your peers stop talking to look at you.
"Wow piggy, you're such a klutz," Gwen laughs, pointing at you. Your tray drops to the ground and you run out of the hall with all eyes on you.
The walk back to your dorm is one of shame and severe embarrassment. Tears start to spill down your face when you make it to your door. Your fingers fumble to open the stubborn door, but when it finally does you crash onto the couch and sob. Salvia dribbles down your mouth, mixing with your tears as you cry. Eventually the burn in your throat is enough to quiet you, but the evidence of your breakdown is still streaked across your face.
Your eyes are red and puffy with mascara smeared across your lids. The clock in your living room reads 10:40 am, making you 40 minutes late for your second class. You decide to skip the rest of your classes and spend the day wallowing in self-pity. A sigh leaves your chest as you peel yourself from the couch and pull out your phone from your pocket. Your lock screen is littered with worried messages from your boyfriend.
10:12 am: Hey babe are you coming to class???
10:30 am: Tell me if you're sick and I'll leave early
10:32 am: Seriamente text me just so I know you're okay!!
10:35 am: I got your homework for you btw
10:36 am: did I do something?
10:38 am: I'm coming over
You quickly type up a "I'm ok" message, but knowing your boyfriend he's probably already sprinting to your dorm. You rush to your bathroom to remove the smeared makeup from your face and fix your lopsided braided bun. Just as you finally get the last bit of mascara off your eyes someone knocks at the door. You give yourself a once over and head to the door. Your boyfriend stands in the doorway looking frazzled and out of breath with homework papers clenched in his hand.
"Why didn't you answer my texts?" Miguel asks as he steps into your dorm.
"I did, I was just taking a nap!" You exclaim trying to avoid his eyes.
"Mìrame. Why are your eyes so red? Did you smoke without me?" Miguel jokingly pouts his bottom lip as he grabs your face.
"No, I'm just not feeling good, baby. You can go, I'm just gonna skip class today."
Miguel's eyebrows knit together with skepticism. "Did Gwen talk shit to you again?"
What? No, I just want to stay in bed today!" Your voice starts to shake and a familiar throbbing runs down your throat. Despite this assurance, your eyes give you away.
"I'm so sick of that cabrona de mierda! I'm gonna have a word with her," Miguel turns to the door, ready to have yet another screaming match with Gwen.
"Miguel, please!" You plead, grabbing at his arm. "She talked shit but I'm fine now. I really don't want to think about it anymore and I really don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I go crying to you every time she calls me a pig. It's not like you can actually do anything to her anyways."
"How am I supposed to stick up for you then? I'm not gonna sit around and let her be a puta to my girlfriend," Miguel sighs, turning back around.
You both stand in silence, unable to think of any real solution. Miguel breaks the tension by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug.
"I'm sorry, baby," Miguel whispers in your ear. "I just want to help you." His hands rub gentle circles on your back. Miguel's warm breath tickles your ear causing you to smile ever so slightly.
"You can help me just by being an amazing, supportive boyfriend," you say. Miguel lifts his head and kisses you. His lips feel plush against yours.
The first kiss is delicate, barely grazing your lips, but the second is more passionate. Your fingers entangle themselves into Miguel's dark curls. They feel soft and perfectly wrap around your fingertips. You pull Miguel closer to your chest, practically merging your bodies together.
"I need you Miguel," you say breathlessly against his lips.
"I guess I could skip my next class," Miguel smirks, lifting up his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned stomach and wide shoulders.
Your cheeks blush at the sight of him in his full glory. Miguel doesn't hesitate to get naked unlike you. Your fingers shyly tug at your graphic tee before lifting it above your head. Natural instincts make your arms fly to cover as much of your body as you can.
"Babe, I've seen you naked three times, stop hiding yourself from me. I already know how sexy you look topless," Miguel says, pulling your arms away from your chest. He quickly unhooks your bra while pressing kisses to your bust.
You grab Miguel's arm and lead him to your bedroom. The room is small with only a twin bed and a desk sitting in the corners. Miguel gently pushes you onto the bed with a look of lust in his eyes. His fingers spread warmth to your body as they trail down your stomach to your aching mound. He teases your clothed pussy, slowly pressing deep circles onto your clit.
"Miguel," you moan. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as he continues his ministrations. Pleasure builds within your abdomen as Miguel's fingers move hastily against your cunt. His bicep flexes as his fingers push your panties to the side, giving your boyfriend a full view of your wet pussy.
"Is all this for me, baby?" Miguel teases as the pad of his thumb brushes over your exposed clit. The sudden skin-to-skin contact sends electricity up your spine.
"Only for you."
Your boyfriend's dark eyes are practically red with lust. He removes his hand from in between your legs, much to your dismay, and positions himself in between them. For the first time you notice his large bulge poking through the boxers he neglected to take off. Your brain barely registers his cock before he pushes inside you. A loud gasp escapes your lips as your pussy stretches around his girth.
"F-fuck!" you manage to stutter out. Miguel is gentle at first. His hips move smoothly like butter against your own. The initial pressure subsides and pleasure takes its place. Miguel plunges deep inside you, leaving you shaking with every thrust. Your thighs jiggle with the snap of his hips causing the room to fill with the sound of your skin slapping together.
"Jesus, you feel so fucking good!" Miguel exclaims. He quickens his pace to an impossible speed, eliciting pornographic moans from you. His shaft renders speechless as he effortly hits the sensitive spot in your pussy. Your hands quickly tangle in Miguel's hair as your orgasm nears.
"You like that, baby?" Miguel teases.
"Oh fuck! I love your fucking dick" Your words sputter out with each slam of your boyfriend's hips, but your message is clear.
"You love this fucking dick?" Miguel's ego grows larger by the second.
"I LOVE your fucking dick," you say practically screaming.
Your next sentence is interrupted by Miguel jackhammering into you with the last bit of energy he has. His fingers intertwine with yours as your orgasm rushes through your body. Your toes curl to the point of cracking as it makes its way down your legs. Miguel lets out a string of curses as he presses his head against your chest. A final grunt escapes his lips when he finishes inside of you.
His thighs tremble and his breath is shallow, eyes filled with a post-orgasm high as he lifts his head.
"I'll always choose you, baby," Miguel says breathlessly.
"I know," you reply back. You brush the wet curls out of your boyfriend's face knowing that even if Gwen bullied you, you still got the better end of the stick.
Your head hangs low as you eat your breakfast in the dining hall. The noise of the hall dulls your thoughts as you play with the runny eggs on your plate. That is quickly interrupted by Gwen Stacy slamming her tray on the table. Gwen is the resident Regina George of your college campus. You used to fly under her radar but ever since you started dating Miguel O'hara, the star quarterback, she has been relentless in her harassment.
"Hey piggy, I saw you sitting here so I brought you some food so you won't get hungry while you sit alone. I guess your "boyfriend" doesn't want to be seen in public with you," Regina mocks, gesturing to the tray she had slammed next to you. The plate has a heaping pile of bacon and sausage with at least ten pieces of toast on top.
"Gwen, fuck off. Just accept the fact that not every guy at this school is not up your ass," you retort. You pick up your tray and walk towards the trash can.
"Miguel is only dating you as a joke. No guy here would ever be into a whale like you." Gwen pushes you straight into the trash can that you had stopped in front of. The can tips over, spilling the morning's trash onto the floor. The room goes silent as your peers stop talking to look at you.
"Wow piggy, you're such a klutz," Gwen laughs, pointing at you. Your tray drops to the ground and you run out of the hall with all eyes on you.
The walk back to your dorm is one of shame and severe embarrassment. Tears start to spill down your face when you make it to your door. Your fingers fumble to open the stubborn door, but when it finally does you crash onto the couch and sob. Salvia dribbles down your mouth, mixing with your tears as you cry. Eventually the burn in your throat is enough to quiet you, but the evidence of your breakdown is still streaked across your face.
Your eyes are red and puffy with mascara smeared across your lids. The clock in your living room reads 10:40 am, making you 40 minutes late for your second class. You decide to skip the rest of your classes and spend the day wallowing in self-pity. A sigh leaves your chest as you peel yourself from the couch and pull out your phone from your pocket. Your lock screen is littered with worried messages from your boyfriend.
10:12 am: Hey babe are you coming to class???
10:30 am: Tell me if you're sick and I'll leave early
10:32 am: Seriamente text me just so I know you're okay!!
10:35 am: I got your homework for you btw
10:36 am: did I do something?
10:38 am: I'm coming over
You quickly type up a "I'm ok" message, but knowing your boyfriend he's probably already sprinting to your dorm. You rush to your bathroom to remove the smeared makeup from your face and fix your lopsided braided bun. Just as you finally get the last bit of mascara off your eyes someone knocks at the door. You give yourself a once over and head to the door. Your boyfriend stands in the doorway looking frazzled and out of breath with homework papers clenched in his hand.
"Why didn't you answer my texts?" Miguel asks as he steps into your dorm.
"I did, I was just taking a nap!" You exclaim trying to avoid his eyes.
"Mìrame. Why are your eyes so red? Did you smoke without me?" Miguel jokingly pouts his bottom lip as he grabs your face.
"No, I'm just not feeling good, baby. You can go, I'm just gonna skip class today."
Miguel's eyebrows knit together with skepticism. "Did Gwen talk shit to you again?"
What? No, I just want to stay in bed today!" Your voice starts to shake and a familiar throbbing runs down your throat. Despite this assurance, your eyes give you away.
"I'm so sick of that cabrona de mierda! I'm gonna have a word with her," Miguel turns to the door, ready to have yet another screaming match with Gwen.
"Miguel, please!" You plead, grabbing at his arm. "She talked shit but I'm fine now. I really don't want to think about it anymore and I really don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I go crying to you every time she calls me a pig. It's not like you can actually do anything to her anyways."
"How am I supposed to stick up for you then? I'm not gonna sit around and let her be a puta to my girlfriend," Miguel sighs, turning back around.
You both stand in silence, unable to think of any real solution. Miguel breaks the tension by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug.
"I'm sorry, baby," Miguel whispers in your ear. "I just want to help you." His hands rub gentle circles on your back. Miguel's warm breath tickles your ear causing you to smile ever so slightly.
"You can help me just by being an amazing, supportive boyfriend," you say. Miguel lifts his head and kisses you. His lips feel plush against yours.
The first kiss is delicate, barely grazing your lips, but the second is more passionate. Your fingers entangle themselves into Miguel's dark curls. They feel soft and perfectly wrap around your fingertips. You pull Miguel closer to your chest, practically merging your bodies together.
"I need you Miguel," you say breathlessly against his lips.
"I guess I could skip my next class," Miguel smirks, lifting up his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned stomach and wide shoulders.
Your cheeks blush at the sight of him in his full glory. Miguel doesn't hesitate to get naked unlike you. Your fingers shyly tug at your graphic tee before lifting it above your head. Natural instincts make your arms fly to cover as much of your body as you can.
"Babe, I've seen you naked three times, stop hiding yourself from me. I already know how sexy you look topless," Miguel says, pulling your arms away from your chest. He quickly unhooks your bra while pressing kisses to your bust.
You grab Miguel's arm and lead him to your bedroom. The room is small with only a twin bed and a desk sitting in the corners. Miguel gently pushes you onto the bed with a look of lust in his eyes. His fingers spread warmth to your body as they trail down your stomach to your aching mound. He teases your clothed pussy, slowly pressing deep circles onto your clit.
"Miguel," you moan. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as he continues his ministrations. Pleasure builds within your abdomen as Miguel's fingers move hastily against your cunt. His bicep flexes as his fingers push your panties to the side, giving your boyfriend a full view of your wet pussy.
"Is all this for me, baby?" Miguel teases as the pad of his thumb brushes over your exposed clit. The sudden skin-to-skin contact sends electricity up your spine.
"Only for you."
Your boyfriend's dark eyes are practically red with lust. He removes his hand from in between your legs, much to your dismay, and positions himself in between them. For the first time you notice his large bulge poking through the boxers he neglected to take off. Your brain barely registers his cock before he pushes inside you. A loud gasp escapes your lips as your pussy stretches around his girth.
"F-fuck!" you manage to stutter out. Miguel is gentle at first. His hips move smoothly like butter against your own. The initial pressure subsides and pleasure takes its place. Miguel plunges deep inside you, leaving you shaking with every thrust. Your thighs jiggle with the snap of his hips causing the room to fill with the sound of your skin slapping together.
"Jesus, you feel so fucking good!" Miguel exclaims. He quickens his pace to an impossible speed, eliciting pornographic moans from you. His shaft renders speechless as he effortly hits the sensitive spot in your pussy. Your hands quickly tangle in Miguel's hair as your orgasm nears.
"You like that, baby?" Miguel teases.
"Oh fuck! I love your fucking dick" Your words sputter out with each slam of your boyfriend's hips, but your message is clear.
"You love this fucking dick?" Miguel's ego grows larger by the second.
"I LOVE your fucking dick," you say practically screaming.
Your next sentence is interrupted by Miguel jackhammering into you with the last bit of energy he has. His fingers intertwine with yours as your orgasm rushes through your body. Your toes curl to the point of cracking as it makes its way down your legs. Miguel lets out a string of curses as he presses his head against your chest. A final grunt escapes his lips when he finishes inside of you.
His thighs tremble and his breath is shallow, eyes filled with a post-orgasm high as he lifts his head.
"I'll always choose you, baby," Miguel says breathlessly.
"I know," you reply back. You brush the wet curls out of your boyfriend's face knowing that even if Gwen bullied you, you still got the better end of the stick.
Taglist ****
@anoaievans
@lilvampirina
@vaexox
@hatterripper31
@aiyaaayei
@vipersecret-blog
@kelly-fushiguro345
Art: @shuploc
#college au miguel o'hara#college au#au#alternate universe#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara fan art#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara x plus size reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x chubby black reader#miguel o'hara x black reader#miguel o'hara x plus size black reader#miguel o'hara x reader smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x you#black reader#reader insert#chubby black reader#black girl reader#black!fem!reader#fanfic#chubby reader#reader insert fluff#plus size reader smut#plus sized reader
403 notes
·
View notes
Note
I read the tags on your Kunikida post… go ahead and explain, my liege
JUST SAW THIS SOMEHOW ABYWAYS TYYY
OKAY so probably going into detail about how kunikida can be considered passively suicidal since i have the most coherent thoughts on that aand warnings for stuff of that nature under the cut :D + length
[also small disclaimer, i have been procrastinating reading dazais entrance exam and so far have only seen the anime adaptation which apparently left a ton of stuff out so feel free to correct me on inaccurate details and/or missed examples or just downright incorrect information]
[note: idk if passive is the correct term bc i was thinking about it and hes not exactly like oh i hope this kills me yk, so whatever that term is lmk <3]
This stuff also sorta ties in with his ideals and their potential self destructive-ness. they tend to cause him to either negligently often risk his life with there being an apparent “other way”, or just outright risk his life with barely a second thought for his ideals.
so kunikida has very strong morals and that’s the core of his character. the main ideals referenced in the show being his infamous “ideal woman”, “how to make dazai ideal”, and the ideal that basically tells him to save people. [i forgot what that one is referred to as]. If we’re talking timeline wise i think one of the first examples of his ideals causing him to negligently risk his life would be in Dazais Entrance Exam, or The Azure Messenger arc if you’re an anime watcher.
First example off the top of my head in dazais entrance exam would be when him and Dazai first see the hostages, specifically the ones in the room
after the gas came down dazai has to actually wrestle kunikida away from the room because otherwise hes gonna die. kunikida repeatedly shouts about how “people shouldn’t die like this”. This might be a bit of a tangent but later on in the episode he remarks how he “may as well ahev set the bomb off himself” when Dazai asks about Rokuzou’s dad, implying he blames himself for Rokuzou’s dad’s death. This is of itself isn’t enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s passively suicidal” so moving on to the main manga where there are several other instances of his tendencies to throw himself directly in harms way.
[there may be examples before this i just skipped to chapter 40] and starting off strong we have the thing with Aya. This could be written up to circumstance but he had the opportunity to avoid death himself so im counting it. he’s basically hugging death. that’s all i have to say for this.
of course he ends up surviving it because of deus ex machina yosano. After the fact, Aya asks him what he would’ve done if Yosano wasn’t there. To which he replies basically he would’ve done the same thing he just did except died and basically would have been fine with the outcome as long as she didn’t die in front of him. [he would’ve been dead as well and not had to deal with the guilt] i should point out as well, he does this because of his ideals. he specifically cites his ideals around these parts usually. The not letting anybody die before his eyes is one of ideals and the most common one he uses.
[im pulling that from the fact he had no backup plans or anything to actually stop the bomb aside from Yosano, since his words could imply he would’ve tried to save Aya. and the guy with the bombs was using the fact Kunikida holds his ideals very close to him, taht he wouldn’t have allowed Aya to die if he could’ve prevented it.]
aaand i think our last example and best example for tonight
context for the scene: they’re in the getaway helicopter and tecchou is trying to take it down via his sword and Kunikida decides to take matters into his own hands and take down Tecchou. First off, HE DID NOT HAVE TO, CHUUYA IS RIGHT. THERE. HE LITERALLY SHOT TECCHOU WITH GRAVITY BULLETS EARLIER.
HE DID NOT HAVE TO RISK HIMSELF BUT HE DID. also additional context, in this arc and the previous arcs, he’s been faced with situation after situation where his ideals have failed him and he’s been unable to exercise them and save the people he thinks he should.
point being, he feels like complete shit! he probably is thinking like if he should do anything then, it should be he makes sure he gets his friends out of there. regardless of whether he’s dead or alive because he jumps out of the plane and full body tackles tecchou while being in direct contact with fucking chuuya.
chuuya “has to stay out of the fights and arcs half the time because he’s too good at his job” nakahara.
chuuya “just shot tecchou and did a decent job at keeping him back a few pages before” nakahara. you see my point.
oh and then he just attempts to blow the both of them up.
he does not care for his life at all here. not one bit. also he did not need to blow the both of them up. he could’ve made a fucking stun gun or anything else that wouldn’t KILL the BOTH of them??
my whole point is he does not care for his life here and it’s gets worse the more you progress through the manga.
anyways anyways ending off, kunikida repeatedly puts his life in danger either for his ideals or neglectfully and/or without need. this has been a ramble. this man is not okay.
also kinda funny is he’s partners with dazai of all people, actively suicidal princess bungou himself. i really enjoy their differences and how similarly different they are.
^ not actually related to anything but i almost started laughing so hard with my family in the room at this piece, junichiro looks so concerned
#good god this was a ton#i hope this was coherent#i most likely missed some stuff unfortunately sobs and there’s probably a contradiction or two in here im not proofreading this#ANYWAYS TYSM FOR ASKUNG#sodaramblestoomuch#bsd#soda ask and answers!#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs#bsd kunikida#bsd analysis#bsd manga#bsd spoilers#bungou stray dogs kunikida#kunikida doppo#bsd doppo kunikida#doppo kannonzaka#kunikida bsd#doppo kunikida#bungou sd#bungo sd#bungou gay dogs
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
📱 phone sex with tasm!peter?
Dial Tones [p.p.]
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Phone Sex. Mutual Masturbation. Dirty Talk.
Summary: Peter gets a much-needed distraction after studying all night.
It starts innocently enough.
Peter’s studying in his room when he gets the text. Just two words, but the invitation in them really speaks a thousand.
You up?
A grin flits over his face. He’s grateful for the distraction, more than happy to turn his attention away from the list of equations on the page in front of him. In the last hour, they’ve begun swimming off the page at an alarming rate. A swirl of numbers, letters, symbols, each more confusing and infuriating than the last. Peter was just beginning to think he was going to chuck his book out the window if he didn’t take a break soon. An extreme reaction, maybe, but such was the effect of a 300 level biochemistry class.
So, he gladly takes the life raft you offer him.
Peter swipes the message open, and types out a one-handed reply: Yeah. Studying for Richard’s exam.
Gross. Comes the response, not 10 seconds later. And then. Need a distraction?
He chuckles. You’ve managed to read his mind from miles away.
Peter shifts in his chair, hunching over his phone. He’s not quite sure why he’s trying to hide. He lives in a single dorm, a lucky find for a freshman. Maybe old habits die hard.
Depends. What do you have in mind?
Why don’t you come over and find out?
His lips twist into a frown. It was twenty minutes past midnight, which normally wouldn’t stop him, but he had a test in less than 8 hours, and a 40 minute commute on top of that probably wouldn’t be the smartest decision.
Can’t. It’s too late.
Your loss. The message has a photo attached to it. Peter sucks in a breath when he opens it.
It’s poorly lit, almost secretive. The image of you angling the photo in the dark of your dorm room sends a bolt of electricity down his spine. A teasing shot of your shirt bunched around your hips, with your hand down the front of your sleep shorts. In the corner of the photo, the barest flash of lavender panties.
Peter’s tongue swipes over his lower lip.
Shit.
Change your mind?
I really can’t. My exam’s at 8 AM. I’d never get back on time.
My roommate’s out.
You’re really pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?
I just really miss you. Can you blame me?
Another photo. This one a clear shot of your panties hanging low on your hips.
Peter’s face warms. He scrubs a hand down his face.
Don’t you miss me? He can almost hear the seductive lilt in your voice.
The next image he receives nearly has him tugging on his shoes and hauling ass to the nearest subway station right then and there. Your panties off screen, fingers buried between your bare thighs.
Peter fumbles out a reply, grateful you can’t see how red his face is. Course I miss you honey. And after a beat. Are you touching yourself?
Yes.
And thinking of me?
Always.
“Fuck.” Peter exhales. His shorts grow uncomfortably tight. He fidgets in his seat, subconsciously palming his aching dick.
Good girl.
Wanna see?
Hell yeah.
The FaceTime alert shatters the quiet of his room, and startles Peter into action.
He answers the call, mouth dry. The phone’s camera is pointed at your pussy, giving him a perfect vantage point to watch two of your fingers swirl around your clit.
“P-Pete,” you whimper quietly.
“Ah shit, baby,” Peter whispers. His dick throbs almost painfully. “Look at you.”
You moan at his encouragement. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I want you so bad.”
“I see that.” Peter shoves his shorts down and spits into his palm. He wraps his fist around his dick and groans breathily.
“I’m so wet.”
And fuck he can hear it. The slick of your fingers slipping as you pleasure yourself. The little breathy whines low in his ear.
“You’re killing me, baby.” He murmurs. “I wish I could feel you.”
“Wish you were fucking me.” You reply, voice ragged. “Show me. I wanna see you jerk off.”
“Wanna see your face.”
“Count of three?” You ask, and Peter chuckles.
“Sure. One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
The cameras flip in unison. Peter’s breath catches at the needy look in your heavy-lidded eyes. The curve of your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You whimper, yes audibly whimper, at the curve of his dick. The pink head weeps with precum; the translucent pearls dribbling down the shaft.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers.” Peter swallows thickly. “Pretend they’re mine.”
You do what he says. He can tell because your eyes close slightly and your breath hitches. “They don’t feel as good as yours.”
“I know, baby. My hand doesn’t feel as good as you either.” It’s a poor replacement for the real thing. “I’ll make it up to you.”
God, he wanted to be with you so badly. Curse Richards and this stupid exam. He wanted to be the cause of your growing moans. Wanted to hear you pant his name in his ear. Wanted to feel you wrapped tight around him, the slide of your skin on his.
“Tomorrow, as soon as I finish my exam I’m coming over,” he promises.
“Yeah?” Your voice is barely a whisper. “To do what?”
“Gonna get my mouth on you. Make you come with my tongue.” He bites his lower lip. Just the thought makes his stomach tighten. “Then with my fingers.”
“I love your fingers.”
“I know you do, honey.” Peter smirks. “That sound good to you?”
“As long as I get to blow you after.”
Peter tightens his jaw. “Baby, you can do whatever you want.”
“Can I ride you?”
It was one of your favorite positions, so that made it one of Peter’s as well. He liked to watch you. See the way your body rolled forward with each trust. Watch the furrow of your eyebrows when you got into a rhythm that really worked for you. Watch your breasts bounce, and your body shudder as you crested that blissful peak.
“Fuck, yeah.” He tilts his head back. “Shit, I’m close.”
“Me too.”
“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Peter asks, a heady rasp in his voice.
“Uh huh. God.” You curse, eyes rolling back into your skull.
Peter’s hand moves a bit faster. “Nope, just me, baby. Want you to come all over your fingers, and I’ll come all over mine.”
He can barely keep hanging on anymore. The coil of warmth within him threatens to unravel.
“Ah.” You whimper as you fall apart. The sound strikes his ears like glass on stone. A beautiful tinkling.
Peter’s answering groan is broken. Guttural. The phone clatters to the floor, but he’s too far gone to care. He spills onto his hand, his thighs, his stomach. When he’s finally spent, he slumps back on the chair boneless. His hand searches aimlessly for his cellphone, fingers wrapping around it.
He’s greeted by your smiling face. “How’s that for a distraction?”
“Perfect.” He pulls his shirt off and cleans himself up.
“How much longer do you think you’ll stay up studying?”
“Another hour maybe.” He tosses the balled shirt towards his laundry basket. It lands on the floor a few inches away.
You yawn, stretching out on your bed. “Don’t stay up too late. You don’t want to oversleep and miss your exam.”
Peter knocks on the wood of his desk. “I’ll set two alarms.”
“Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“I will.” He rests his chin on his hand and grins at you. “Thanks for the photos.”
You wipe a hand over your tired eyes. “Anytime. Night, Peter.”
“G’night.” Peter ends the call, reluctant to begin studying again.
This time, the equations manage to stay on the page for much longer, and by the time Peter finally shuts his textbook for the night, he's feeling much more confident.
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker#peter parker#peter parker fanfic#peter parker smut#drabbles
552 notes
·
View notes
Text
Touchdown - Chapter 1.
Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader
Words 1676
Warnings This is a slow burn. I always like to set the scene in the first chapter.
CHAPTER 1.
“Where are my car keys?”
“Why would I know where your car keys are?”
You let out a slow exhale of breath before furiously checking the coats that were hanging up in the porch, for the third time, “Didn’t you use my car last night to pick up the pizzas?”
Jess took a quick sip of her coffee before shouting through into the lounge, “Yes, and I handed them back to you.”
You made your way towards the sound of Jess’ voice, “Right. And I put them down on the…” You paused as your eyes fell on the keys that were positioned exactly where you had left them the night before.
“Well, would you look at that.” Jess smiled and raised her eyebrows, a smug expression that she often threw in your direction. “Honestly, you are the most unorganised person I know.”
“Not everyone has their underwear in colour order, because it’s weird.” You grabbed a cushion from the sofa and playfully hit Jess on the back of the head before returning to packing your handbag ready to leave for work, throwing the car keys into the bag.
“Alright, alright, maybe I am too organised, but do I lose my car keys every morning?”
You stopped to look at her, your eyes wide with a forced innocence, “Not…every morning.”
She cleared her throat and nodded gently, the self-satisfied look still plastered on her face, “Whatever. Anyway, why are you getting so stressed about this? You didn’t want this job in the first place.”
“I’m not stressed…I just don’t want to completely bugger this up. It’s the closest job to being a broadcaster, it’s at an actual television studio and a show that is actually on TV.” You held your hands out to emphasise your point. “And it’s a ‘foot in the door’ situation. I work for ITV doing this gig for a year or so and then I can do what I want to do.”
“Yeah…but sport.? You hate sports.”
“I don’t hate sports. I just don’t see the point. I’ll learn.” You said, shrugging your shoulders lazily.
“And it’s American sports.” Jess wrinkled her nose, “I don’t know how you’re going to do it.”
Reaching up onto your tiptoes, you grabbed your coat from the hook and picked up your bag with the other hand before making your way out of the house, “Really supportive, Jess.”
“Kill it!” She shouted as you closed the door.
______________________________________________________________
“And this is where the presenters hang out before or after the show…and this…” You were being shown around the studio by Hannah, a young blonde girl who worked in your department. The studio was huge, and you were trying desperately to remember the identical corridors and seemingly hundreds of doors in an attempt to stop yourself from getting lost. Hannah must have noticed your eyes that were frantically darting around.
“Honestly, you’ll probably only use about 40% of the entire building.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and lowered her voice, “I’ve been here 3 and a half years and I got lost just yesterday.”
A small chuckle escaped your lips and you ran a hand through your hair.
Hannah paused for a second, “I tell you what, why don’t we grab a coffee?”
You nodded with a smile as you followed her through some heavy double doors into the studio cafeteria. It was a vast room with food servers and drinks machines lining one wall and countless tables and chairs. Some were filled with people talking loudly, some had individuals typing furiously on their laptops. Hannah brought two paper cups filled to the top with coffee over to a small table that was next to the window. Outside, it was a bright and warm day. There was a small group of people sat under a tree reading and talking. Businessmen and woman were coming and going from the building speaking on their phones or checking pieces of paperwork.
It was a busy atmosphere, but it didn’t seem to worry you. You thrived on being busy. You performed better under pressure during your studies at university and the small journalist jobs you had after you had graduated. But this was the big leagues. This was national television. And it was sports.
“So, do you watch The NFL Show?” Hannah smiled as she sat down.
You took a short breath and looked down. “Can I be honest?”
Hannah pressed her lips together and frowned.
“I’ve never watched an American football game in my life.” Leaning back slightly in your chair, you nervously waited for her reaction.
Hannah kept her face still for a moment before bursting into laugher, “Oh Y/N, it’s like looking into a mirror. I hadn’t either before I started working here!”
You let out a sigh of relief and picked up your coffee, “Really?”
“Babe, we work in research, social media stuff. So, I don’t really think it’s vitally necessary to be a fan of the sport. We are the fact checkers, the worker bees. We make sure the Facebook posts are good, the stats are spot on and the presenters are telling the truth. But I’ve watched a few games with my husband and it’s not bad!”
“Oh, I’m so glad! I was so worried it would be a problem.”
“I mean, don’t go broadcasting that around the building, but no, it’s not a problem.” She smiled. “Where have you worked before here then?”
“Well, I graduated 4 years ago, I got a first in media and journalism. Then I worked for my local newspaper back in my hometown and various temporary jobs but I realised that I need to move to London if I really wanted to work in journalism or broadcasting.”
Hannah nodded gently, “Makes sense. Well, that sounds great. I can tell you're going to do just fine here!” She glanced at the clock above you head, “Shall we make a move? I could show you the studio for a bit?”
“Sounds good to me!”
______________________________________________________________
“But wait, why have they stopped again?”
“Jess, I don’t know.”
Jess reached forward and grabbed another slice of pepperoni pizza, “This is going to take hours if he carries on doing that.”
“What?”
“Him! That referee man just keeps stopping everything, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Jess, we don’t know what we’re talking about.” You laughed through a mouthful of pizza.
“They are quite fit, aren’t they?”
You leaned over her leg to pick up your phone, “I’m there to work, I’m not there to look at the players.”
“Yeah, but sometimes they come to do interviews and that sort of thing, right?”
You shrugged your shoulders as you checked your emails.
“Oh, and if you end up having to go over to America for the Super Ball thingy…”
“…Super Bowl.” You corrected her.
“…Bowl? Well, that doesn’t make sense either. It should be Super Ball, because they play with a ball? Right?”
You snorted a laugh, your eyes still scanning the screen on your phone, your thumb swiping lazily.
“Super Ball, Super Bowl, whatever it is, promise you’ll take me? I could do with a holiday!”
“Jess, I doubt I would be the one to go! And anyway, it’ll be a miracle that I last that long in the job. I think I’m in over my head.” You took another bite of your pizza and pulled the blanket over to your chest.
“Y/N, you said it yourself, you’re there for research. Just do what you need to do for a while and then you can be a big-time journalist.”
You smiled at Jess as she put the last of her pizza in her mouth and turned back to the TV. Even hearing your own words being repeated back to you didn't seem to calm your worries or concerns. You closed your eyes and rested your head back on the sofa, letting the sounds of the TV buzz in your ears.
______________________________________________________________
Staring at a computer screen full of numbers for roughly 9 hours a day isn’t exactly how you expected to begin your journalism career in London. Your day was spent checking game scores, going back to previous seasons, and comparing player performances along with individual stats. Scrolling through social media and posting, commenting, liking; it became boring. Ordinarily, you enjoyed mindlessly wandering around Facebook, but you wanted something more, a challenge, something less mundane.
Your momentary daydream was interrupted with the sound of your office phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“Is this Y/N?” A stern, male voice asked.
“Erm, yeah.”
“Great. I need you to do something for me.”
“O-okay.” You stuttered whilst you reached for a pen to jot down the details.
“We need you to contact Kelce for a response.”
Blood rushed to your face. Who is Kelce? A response for what? Your eyes widened whilst you waited in silence for the mystery voice to speak again.
“Kelce? Travis Kelce? Tight end for the Chiefs? The fastest player to reach 10,000 yards?”
You cleared your throat, “Yeah, yeah of course. I’m…I’m on it-“
The call ended abruptly. You nervously returned the phone to the holder and searched around your desk area for some sort of clue for to what to do next. Just then, you noticed Hannah weaving her way through the desks. Lifting your chin above the half wall, you tried to catch her eye. She smiled and waved, before heading towards you.
“Hey girl, what’s up?”
You lowered your voice, “How do I get in touch with a player?”
“A player?” Her eyes lit up.
“Yeah, for a statement or whatever.”
“Ooh, fun job!” Hannah leaned over your desk to grab a laminated sheet of paper that was taped up on the wall. She pointed to a number, “Give Terry a ring, he can probably put you in touch with whoever you need.”
“Trevor, something Kelce?”
“Travis Kelce? He’s cool, he’ll give you a statement over the phone, no problem.” She stood up, “Anything else?”
“No, no that’s all. Thank you so much!”
Hannah winked, “Anytime, good luck!”
______________________________________________________________
Thank you for reading! I have lots of chapters coming up for this series so if you want to be included in my taglist just give me a shout!
#travis kelce x reader#travis kelce imagine#kelce x reader#travis kelce#nfl imagine#travis kelce fic#chapter 1#slow burn#original story#touchdown series
356 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨weekly tag wednesday✨
weekly tagly wednesdly?? lolol thanks for todays game and thanks for tagging me @darlingian!! and @energievie!! <<3333
About you
name: deanna
age: noel-aged (which isnt old actually, stop being weirdos)
starsign: scorpio
your first language: english
second language: right now the only other language i might be able to have a little convo with you in is norwegian
favourite lip product: blistex medicated mint lip balm
the best food dish you can make without a recipe: pico de gallo yum yum
If you drink tea, what kind?: peppermint
If you drink coffee, what roast do you usually get?: light roast (i didnt know about that being more caffeine!! But yay!)
favourite thing to watch on youtube right now: mike’s mic’s appropriately unhinged tv show summaries
favourite thing to watch on youtube in 2012: i dont have a fuckin clue lol. All i did in 2012 was work at and manage a barber shop well over 40 hours a week, experience a fucked up pregnancy, got traumatized, and played mass effect 3.
favourite item of clothing right now: my black joggers
favourite item of clothing in 2012: uhmm…green cardigan was something i wore a lot to work cuz it looked extra cute with my red hair. (i had red hair in 2012!)
fandom
three movies you recommend: The Fall (2006), Love and Monsters, Palm Springs
your favourite concert: went to a ton of dmb shows a youth which were always insane levels of fun
have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?: oh for sure, im here to enjoy myself lol
have you ever left a fandom because of the fans?: i dunno what i consider leaving a fandom? I guess maybe i dont JOIN them very often (ie make friends and participate in events and such) so no i’ve never really left one as the only two i consider myself really being a part of is dragon age and shameless?
the best tv show you watched last year: hmmmm….the fall of the house of usher (i have such a short fucking memory i dont know what came out earlier in the year sorry lol)
do you have a fancasting you just can't let go of?: not that i can think of off the top of my head…
a ship you've abandoned: uuhhmm…also cant really think of one?
on a scale of 1-10 how willing are you to share your ao3 history?: oh zerooooo. Its all rather tame, i just am not willing to lay my fucking soul bare thanks lolol
do you have a fandom tattoo? i dont have any tattoos which i will probably go to my grave being sad about because i have so far failed at every meager attempt to get one.
what fandom do you wish was bigger?: on one hand it might be fun to have more folks around in shameless but also i know our tiny friendly tumblr bubble is what keeps things playful, so i dunno… maybe uuhhmm the expanse?
has a finale ever ruined a show for you?: how i met your mother was pretty bad. I think even worse for me was Chuck.
have you...
swam in an ocean?: yes
been vegan/vegetarian?: i’ve been a vegetarian for 28 years
gone skinny dipping?: yes
gone skiing?: no
been to a convention?: so so so many
now my precious nuggets, please accept this tag and either play along or just know that i am gently squishing your face in my hands @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @heymrspatel @heymacy @metalheadmickey @crossmydna @tanktopgallavich @sam-loves-seb @jrooc @gardenerian @mickeysgaymom @softmick @howlinchickhowl @the-rat-wins @lingy910y @sickness-health-all-that-shit @gallawitchxx @mybrainismelted @juliakayyy @creepkinginc @whatwouldmickeydo @suzy-queued @squirrel-fund @tsuga-of-mars @transmickey @sleepyfacetoughguy @palepinkgoat @themarchg1rl @purplemagpie @thepupperino @callivich @rereadanon @grumble-fish @ardent-fox @thisdivorce @lee-ow @iansw0rld @ritualpyre @vintagelacerosette @rosemacclare @maizzycakes @7x10mickey @rrapp @gofionaonthem @suchagallabitch
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
HAPPY 70th BIRTHDAY GEDDY!!!!
(meme credit to u/rtphokie on reddit)
OH, AND WHAT’S THAT?!?! IT’S ALSO THE 49th ANNIVERSARY OF NEIL PEART JOINING RUSH?!?!
In order to celebrate these wondrous occasions, I have compiled 70 reasons why I love Rush (especially Geddy):
70. They don't have any unlistenable albums. I can put on any Rush album and at the very least enjoy it, which is saying a lot!
69. ANDDDD they have 19 studio albums!!! 167 songs!!!
68. Alex's iconic Hall of Fame induction speech.
67. The movie I Love You, Man. The main plot of that is just two guys geeking out about Rush and then going to see them in concert.
66. The Bb5 in "Cygnus X-1 Book 1: The Voyage". For the record, the other famous Bb5 sung by a male singer in rock is the high note in "Bohemian Rhapsody", sung by Roger Taylor.
65. Geddy's range in general. Say what you will about his voice, but he had range.
64. Their pre-concert videos.
63. "Hey baby it's 7:45 and I need to go to bed soon, let's fuck"- In the Mood. The debut album was something else, man.
62. They wrote songs during soundcheck when they were on tour. This includes songs like "Tom Sawyer" and "Chemistry".
61. They went to a Yes concert while recording Caress of Steel, and almost quit making the album. I, for one, am very glad they didn't!
60. The "rap" in "Roll the Bones". Sit back, relax, get busy with the facts...
59. Gene Simmons thought they weren't into women because they didn't want to party with KISS. True story!
58. They listed their baseball positions in the liner notes for Signals.
57. Neil wrote lyrics to a song using only anagrams. The song is called "Anagram (For Mongo)", and is on the album Presto.
56. They thanked themselves in the liner notes for Hemispheres. Listed as Dirk, Lerxst, and Pratt, ofc!
55. They would challenge themselves to write last-minute songs. Results of this experiment include "Hand Over Fist" from Presto, and "Malignant Narcissism" from Snakes and Arrows.
54. The mere existence of "A Passage to Bangkok". I wonder what their thought process was to put a song about smoking weed around the world after a 20-minute long dystopian prog rock epic...
53. "La Villa Strangiato". Just... everything about it.
52. The kimonos. You know the ones!
51. Their nicknames for each other!! (see above)
50. They had the second-longest stable line up in rock music! The only ones with a longer stable line up was ZZ Top.
49. They had a 40-year career! Even longer if you include pre-Neil and their adventures since the R40 tour.
48. The synth era. I unapologetically love 80s Rush, especially Grace Under Pressure and Power Windows.
47. "The Necromancer" basically being self-insert Tolkien fanfic. I wonder who the "three travelers" are supposed to be... OH WAIT!
46. They're giant nerds. All prog bands are, but they are especially nerdy.
45. Hugh Syme's awesome album covers. He did every single one from Caress of Steel onwards, barring the front cover for Snakes and Arrows.
44. The 7/8 section in "Tom Sawyer". That was my first intermediate bass line! Thanks, Geddy!
43. They're Canadian icons. Unironically, they're the first thing that comes to mind when someone mentions "Canada" to me.
42. The horribly cheesy, terrible, but also really funny music video for "Time Stand Still". That song, btw, might be my favorite 80s Rush song, and is probably in my Top 5.
41. The triple-entendre pun of Moving Pictures. They're filming a movie (moving picture) of people moving paintings (moving pictures), while someone is getting moved by the scene (moving...pictures...).
40. They quote the 1812 Overture in the overture for "2112".
39. Geddy taught Les Claypool how to properly play "YYZ".
38. The Permanent Waves era glasses!
37. The opening of "Xanadu".
36. The weird stuff Geddy would have on his side of stage after he stopped using amps. This includes rotisserie chickens, washing machines, dryers, and popcorn machines.
35. "Music by Lee and Lifeson, Lyrics by Peart" on almost every single Rush song.
34. The ending of "Spirit of Radio". OF SALESMEN!!!
33. Their inside jokes. Example: The Bag.
32. They took French classes together, and began announcing their songs in French in Quebec.
31. The progressiveness of Counterparts. What other 40-year old rockstars were talking about healthy relationship boundaries and openly supporting gay people in 1993?
30. Their vaults are practically empty because they scrapped songs that weren't up to their standards. This is why we have no sub-par Rush material!
29. Choosing to end their careers with grace.
28. Ending the last show of their career with "Working Man", the song that got everything started.
27. "Dreamline"--"Learning that we're only immortal / For a limited time".
26. Geddy and Alex inducting Yes into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2017.
25. Then, of course, Geddy playing "Roundabout" with Yes during their induction! (Unfortunately, he did not play his Rickenbacker :( )
24. No decisions were made regarding the band without it being unanimous.
23. "Closer to the Heart". To me, that song is like a musical representation of their friendship, and it always leaves me with a warm, fuzzy feeling after listening to it.
22. Neil's books. Ghost Rider, in particular helped me get through a rough time earlier this year.
21. Geddy's Big Beautiful Book of Bass. I love that thing, and I am looking forward to his memoir in November!!!
20. That incredible Rickenbacker. I know it hasn't been his main bass since the early 80s but...
19. All their other creative projects. Geddy and Alex have a solo album each, Alex is involved with Envy of None rn, and Neil had his blog.
18. All their other stage interactions.
17. "ATTENTION ALL PLANETS OF THE SOLAR FEDERATION! WE HAVE ASSUMED CONTROL!" -"2112". Just... all of "2112".
16. They got me into prog. I wouldn't have this blog right now if it weren't for Rush.
15. The Lifeson chord. The F#7add11 voicing that you can hear in so many of their songs (it's the opening to "Cygnus X-1 Book II: Hemispheres").
14. Neil's drumming. They call him The Professor for a reason!
13. Geddy's bass playing. And his singing. And playing keys. And... yeah, we would be here all day!
12. The Dinner with Rush video. I make daily references to this that no one notices...
11. "The measure of a life / is a measure of love and respect"- "The Garden". The final song on their final album, and possibly the most amazing closer of all time.
10. Their charity work. IIRC, this includes giving away the aforementioned rotisserie chickens, as well as various fundraisers.
9. Their constant strive to improve themselves. Including Geddy working with a vocal coach, Neil working with Freddie Gruber, and of course, disavowing that Ayn Rand shit.
8. They give me something to strive towards, both as a musician and as a person. If I could make records half as good as Rush, and handle the fame with half the grace that they did, I would consider myself well-accomplished.
7. Neil's lyrics inspired me to get back into writing.
6. They inspired me to become a musician, and to pursue a career in music. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have stayed in choir or picked up bass, and I would've never considered a career in audio technology.
5. Their music helped me bond with my dad.
4. Geddy talking about his family's story of survival during the Holocaust. I think that's really important to talk about.
3. Other Rush fans. Well, okay, some of them like to brag about how many concerts they've been to, or tend to be a little gate-keep, but most of them are really chill people.
2. Their music helped me get through the toughest times in my life. Without getting too personal, I even credit them with saving my life on multiple occasions.
However, what I admire about Rush, above all else...
1. Their friendship with each other.
Once again, happy birthday Geddy! Your music has inspired me in so many ways, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it.
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tagged by @devirnis @rewritetheending and @wildlife4life for wip Wednesday. Well. I have opened another google doc but my idea for the story became what if it’s about this stern little lesbian getting a masc nickname and having a bit of a gender crisis while also dealing with the death of her father who she had a complicated relationship with And Also Buck Is There which I’m not sure would actually be interesting to anyone but me ahshshshs so this one will go on the back burner at least until I get more work done on other stuff. Here’s the opening scene though!
The station is clean. Not just free of dirt, mess, clutter, but the lines of it, stretching above her up into a loft who’s wooden roof provides a warm counterweight to the glass of the locker room, the stairs. It’s the first thing Beth notices, because back home the station had been, more or less, a big concrete room full of shit. The second thing is that they have more trucks, three shiny engines and an ambulance, which are all clean, too, no familiar and ever present layer of dust. The third thing is a very tall man standing at the top of the stairs grinning so wide at her it’s clearly visible even from where she’s lingering by the big bay doors. She takes a deep breath and heads forward, the man practically skipping every other step to meet her halfway.
He’s, somehow, taller up close, and the grin is wider. He’s in his 40s or 50s, maybe? She’s never been particularly good at guessing specific ages outside of very young and very old. His hair has a lot of gray in it, anyway, and she thinks when he stops smiling the crows feet will probably remain. There’s a red splotchy something she thinks is a birthmark hovering around his eyebrow but she doesn’t have time to really look at it because he’s talking immediately.
“Hi! I’m Captain Diaz! You must be our new probationary firefighter?”
She thinks he must know the answer to the question, he was the one waiting for her, and he must have seen her photo during the recruiting process. “Yes, sir. Elizabeth Mason.” He must know her name, too, but he’s holding a hand out in a way that invites introduction. She shakes it, and he has the same calluses as her father. “Graduated last week.”
“Congratulations,” he says, grin dimming into something so genuine it takes her off guard. “You had a few captains clamoring for you, glad you settled here with us.”
“Seemed like a good place to be.” She feels a little guilty at how pleased he looks, because the decision had actually been made around one in the morning in a mildly buzzed hat draw, one of her roommates scribbling station numbers on ribbed off beer labels for her to blindly root through.
“No better place on earth,” he says, and clearly means it. “Let me show you around.” He heads towards the stairs, and she follows a step behind. “And you don’t have to call me sir, Cap is fine, or Buck.”
“Call him Cap,” a firefighter passing them in the other direction says with a fond eye roll. He looks at Beth, jerks his head towards Buck. “He has a problem with authority.”
“Doesn’t that… usually go in the other direction? Problem with, not problem with having.”
Captain Diaz- Buck- makes a face at the other man. “Well. I’m very talented. I can do both.”
She just barely chokes down a laugh, but Buck seems to catch it, a glint in his eye. “Come on, don’t pay attention to any of my terrible subordinates, kitchen’s this way.”
The other firefighter laughs his way down the stairs, and they finish climbing their way up. There’s a few other people lingering around, anyone otherwise unoccupied giving them a friendly wave. Buck moves around the kitchen like a man in his own home, walking backwards and open cabinets without even needing to look, pointing out where they keep communal food and where people stash their own stuff, and then where people stash their own stuff if they really don’t want anyone else to take it.
“So, Elizabeth Mason,” he says as they look into the fridge and she nods like she has a lot of thoughts on coffee creamers and salads. “Got any nicknames? Or you want the full thing every time?”
She blinks at him. “Uh, no- Beth is fine. Or-“ she cuts herself off for a moment, not sure why she would bring this up, but then sticks her hands in her pockets and continues while playing with the seams. “When I was a kid my dad called me John.”
“Yeah?” Buck has that genuine thing going on again, eyes big and friendly like he really would like nothing more than to hear this story, to get to know her.
“Yeah, and I called him Bill- his name’s Thomas, I don’t know where I got the idea, I was like maybe four? Mom hated it but we thought it was the funniest thing.”
Buck is smiling in the scrunched up way people get when they hear a cute story about a small child. “Well-“ they both look up as he’s interrupted by the loud clanging of the alarm. He laughs, and claps her shoulder. “Welcome to the 118, John. Happy to have you.” It makes her smile without meaning to, maybe the first one she's given since she walked in, and Buck’s grin gets all big again in response. “Come on, let's head out.”
He heads back down the stairs and the room is different but the action is familiar as she follows behind.
Tagging @forthewolves @thewolvesof1998 @homerforsure @jeeyuns @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck @rogerzsteven @shortsighted-owl if you have anything to share!
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kakashi Hatake headcannons
I copy and pasted this from my wattpad lol since i havent written in a hot second and I feel bad about it :/
•What he's like in the mornings•
Kakashi isn't a morning person. He hates the feeling of being in a deep, peaceful sleep, then having that ruined by his alarm clock or the sharp, unforgiving rays of the sun.
That being said, he always tries his best to be pleasant for you in the mornings, and he usually doesn't have to try very hard because waking up next to you is always worth waking up.
˚˚˚˚˚
You run your fingers through your lover's hair, giggling as the motion only seems to make it more fluffy.
"Darling," you whisper. "It's time to wake up, my love."
A soft grunt leaves Kakashi's lips before he shifts defiantly and rolls to face away from you.
Rolling your eyes, you huff with irritation. Every single morning it seems to be the same routine. Kakashi ignores his alarm, you try to wake him up, he ignores you.
A small, mischievous grin snakes up your lips. Now it's time for your favorite part.
You sit up and shift to kneel beside your husband. Still grinning, you bite back your laughter as you snatch up your pillow, raise it above your head, and swing it down onto his with a loud, "HATAKE YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"
The pillow makes contact, followed by a muffled "oof!"
Kakashi sits up, glaring at you as you double over in a fit of snickers and giggles.
Grabbing the pillow, he throws it back at you, hitting you square in the face and sending you rolling off the bed in surprise.
You get up, scowling playfully at Kakashi as he smiles sheepishly at you.
"Oops. I guess I used too much strength."
≈≈≈≈≈
•His favorite date idea•
Kakashi isn't one for over-the-top, grandiose gestures of romance and love. He's more of a laid back, simple outing sort of guy. He's different from a lot of people. While some people are made of bright bursts of violent vibrance, he is composed of gentle swirls of pastel tones. So while some people may set up an elaborate evening of fancy dining, extravagant entertainment, and romantic candlelit beach walks; Kakashi Hatake prefers to keep it relaxed and fun. His go-to date ideas are either a walk through the village, a stop at Ichiraku, and a movie at his place; or a lazy night in with take out, movies, and lots and lots of cuddles.
˚˚˚˚˚
"Y/n!"
You look up from your homework to see your best friend, f/n, standing in your doorway with their arms crossed and a start expression.
"What're you doing?" They ask, and you wonder why they sound so irritated.
You look at your textbook then back to them. "Uh... homework."
They roll their eyes and point to your phone next to you on the desk.
"Well, dummy, it's 8pm and you said you had an outing with Kakashi at 6:40."
"oh shit!" You jump up, knocking your chair back and snatching your phone off the desk. To your dismay, you scroll through your notifications to see multiple texts from your boyfriend, the last one dating to 20 minutes ago. you bite your lip, guilt and anxiety beginning to grow in your gut.
"Fuck," you mumble, running a hand through your hair. "he's been waiting for so long. Oh god, he probably hates me now."
"Actually, I don't."
You look up to see Kakashi standing behind your friend.
You expression drops, staring at him in shock and dismay. "oh my god..." you whisper.
Coming to your senses, you rush to him, nearly tackling him with a hug. "oh my god, Kakashi! I am so so so sor-"
Before you can finish, he plants a solid, loving kiss to your lips, cutting you off effectively.
Pulling away with a grin, he says, "don't worry about it. I cancelled the reservations because I remembered the big test you have coming up, so I let you study for a little longer. I ordered pizza to my place, and I am ready to walk you over there right now."
≈≈≈≈≈
•When you're sick•
Kakashi is a very gentle, concerned individual. After all he has been through, one of the hardest and more reoccurring lessons he has learned is to cherish those you love, and to take care of them. So when you're sick, he does just that. He spends extra time with you, gives you cuddles, brings you soup, the whole nine yards.
˚˚˚˚˚
"'Kashi..." your throat is horse and quiet, and you barely manage a whisper. But even that amount of effort sends your throat back into its painful, stinging blaze. You let out a whimper, but it quickly turns into a erratic fit of coughs.
The grey haired shinobi leans closer to you from his chair beside your bed, his brows furrowing with concern.
"Hey... y/n... is there anything I can get you? Maybe some cough drops or some tea?" He puts the back of his hand to your sweat-slicked forehead. "You're burning up. Your fever still hasn't gone down."
You try to say 'thank you captain obvious', but it comes out as a raspy, "thank... obvious", as your voice cuts in and out with the effort it takes to speak.
Kakashi seems to get the message though, and his signature mask crinkles in the way that you have learned to detect as his smiling underneath it.
"You're welcome y/n. I'll get you some tea to help your throat, okay?"
You close your eyes and nod, but just as he gets up to leave, you reach out and grasp his sleeve. He turns to look down at you, curious.
You smile up at him weakly. "Read... to me?'
Kakashi stiffens up, and you can see just a hint of a blush creep up his face and around the tops of his cheeks that arent covered by his mask.
"I- I really don't think you want that."
≈≈≈≈≈
•What he's like in bed•
Kakashi can be both a very gentle lover or a very rough one, depending on his (or your) mood. But either way, he is very considerate and very giving. He makes sure to make you feel loved and satiated, littering your body with kisses and showering you with praise.
He's open to a lot of things, and will try anything at least once if you ask him to.
He'll usually last about 1-3 rounds, depending on how wound up he is. He's very... needy after being on a long mission, but he always puts your wants before his own.
He's a king of aftercare. He'll draw you both a bath and massage you, peppering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your shampoo sud-covered hair.
˚˚˚˚˚
You moan against your lovers neck, tightening your grip on his grey locks.
With every shift of his body and roll of his hips, he fills you up, stretching you around his member in the most delicious way imaginable. His thrusts are strong and consistent, hitting your sweet spot every time, driving you to the brink of insanity.
"oh god, 'Kashi," you whimper, moving one arm to wrap around his back and pull him impossibly closer to you. He grunts in response, his hot, labored breaths fanning across your neck and shoulder that he is nestled into.
Without warning he bites your collar, eliciting a sharp gasp and drawled out moan from you as you arch your back, pushing your breasts into his chest.
You can feel him smile against your skin, but you don't pay any attention to that, since all your focus is on your impending release. Kakashi's thrusts increase in speed, only serving to tighten the coil in your lower abdomen. Your entire body is tingling with arousal and lust, and with a few more thrusts you come undone.
Your entire body tenses up and you cry out in pleasure as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mind goes blank. Kakashi keeps going, only faltering from his rhythm for a couple thrusts before he finds it again.
You want to tell him to slow down, but nothing comes out of your thoroughly fucked self. Instead, your moans increase in pitch, drawling out into some sort of desperate whine. But if you are whining for more or less, Kakashi can't tell, and you truthfully don't care.
Once your orgasm has finished wrecking your body it winds down, but it is quickly flailed up again by Kakashi's own chase for release. Within seconds your extremely sensitized body is driven to another orgasm, and for a few seconds, you swear you lose consciousness.
Pleasure envelops your entire being, blinding you with its enticing white light. You writhe and scream with bliss, the erotic sensations are like you've ever felt before, they're breath taking.
Once You float down from your high, and your stomach is coated with Kakashi's release, your eyes reluctantly flutter open to gaze up at him.
His grey hair is messy and matted with sweat, falling unusually flat on his gorgeous face.
He grins down at you, before quickly leaning down and kissing you passionately. You smile into the kiss, returning it with a spent effort.
Kakashi pulls away, brushing his knuckles against your face in a loving gesture.
The way he gazes at you, as if you're the most beautiful and precious creature on earth, makes you blush furiously and you cover your face with your arms.
Kakashi chuckles, pulling out of you and running an arm along your side comfortingly.
"Come on, y/n. Let's go get cleaned up."
#Kai writes#Kakashi hatake smut#kakashi hatake#kakashi#naruto smut#naruto#headcannons#naruto headcannons#Kakashi hatake headcannons#Kakashi headcannons
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love and Sarcasm (1) - knj
Summary: The second semester of your sophomore year in college has started and there are only two people in your creative writing class that have published works: You, and Kim Namjoon; a pretentious know-it-all that just so happens to be in the same frat as your best friend.
Pairing: Fuckboy!Namjoon x Demi!Chubby!Reader
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, College! au, eventual smut
Warnings: Namjoon is toxic, Jimin drinks some wine before driving but he's not intoxicated, College parties, the entirety of bts being in a frat, Y/n has a caffeine addiction, references to Jimin and Y/n partying a lot while underage.
Word count: 5.6k
Previous | Next
Note: Hey guys! I decided to make it a mini series, It should be 4-5 parts because I wasn't even half done and we were almost at 15k words so I decided I should split it up xD. I hope you enjoy :))
“There’s my favorite librarian,” You looked up from the cart of books you had been organizing and at your best friend of almost 10 years, holding a large coffee that you desperately hoped was for you.
“Did you get me the good stuff?” You asked as he handed you the cup, rolling his eyes as your eyes rolled back into your head as the hot bitter liquid met your tongue.
“Of course, I also got you a donut because coffee isn’t breakfast,” you gasp at his bold statement clutching your chest as exaggeratedly as you could muster.
“Says who?” You question as you gently set your coffee down on your desk, features still exaggerated
“Most people, I’m pretty sure. Eat the damn thing; and next time you wake up late ask someone else to get your coffee for you, I have shit to do,” he dropped the bag with the donut in it on your desk as you resumed organizing the books.
“Where have you got to be before 4pm?” You scoff, eyeing your friend out of the corner of your eye as he yawns.
“I’ll have you know,” he speaks through his yawn, “That my classes are early this semester. My first ones at 10,” You give a slight smirk as you shake your head lightly.
“Wow, look at you up and out of the house a whole 2 hours before you have to be anywhere – if I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it,” he narrows his eyes at you even though you weren’t even close to facing him.
“Haha, very funny. When are your classes for this semester?” He questions, sliding his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket.
“Uh, my Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes start at 9, so I should actually probably leave here soon. I have creative writing then at 2, I have one of the 40 English classes I have to take. Tuesdays and Thursdays are just Child Development which starts at noon,” You furrow your eyebrows, struggling to remember your new schedule off the top of your head.
“That English class, is it with Duncan?” You look over at him before nodding, picking up your coffee with one hand and placing the other on your hip as you take a sip. “Thank god, you know I hate reading, you’re going to be my lifeline, my little nerdy friend,” You cock an eyebrow at his mention of the word little.
“Jimin, we’re the same height, and I think I’ve got a few pounds on you, please stop calling me little,” you set down your coffee and look down at the sheet for the books that are due back today and start crossing off a few that had already been returned.
“I meant more figuratively. You’re emotionally 5’2,” You roll your eyes, a small smile creeping through you try to hide. “I need to get going, I have to meet up with the frat before I get to classes today,”
“Still can’t believe they let you into a frat,” you stood up straight again, taking one last sip of your coffee before you pushed the cart of books out from behind your desk.
“Still can’t believe you refuse to come to my frat parties.”
“Can you seriously see me going to a frat party?” You asked, almost laughing at the thought. Jimin nodded.
“I have actually physically seen you at several frat parties, Y/n,”
“Yeah, in high school,” He shrugged as he started walking backwards toward the front door.
“I’m just saying, I’ve seen the party girl in you, babe. Don’t pretend she doesn’t exist anymore – she was hot,” you rolled your eyes as he pulled his hat back down over his ears before stepping out into the cold.
-
You made your way to the back of the large lecture room, sitting in the back row next to a very large window that overlooked the snow-covered campus. You placed your 2nd coffee of the day down on your desk before sitting down, satisfied with your view of the board in front of you. It wasn’t a large class, so by the time everyone else had made their way in, you were still the only person in the back row.
“Good morning class, my name is Helen Swain, and I’ll be your professor for this semester,” She went on for a few more minutes, talking about what was going to be covered in the class and what to expect, even handing out a paper syllabus before announcing that she expected physical copies of all of your assignments. Looks like it’s time to invest in a printer.
“And I just have one more thing to announce before we get started. As this is a creative writing class, I thought it would be nice to highlight some of your classmates that have their very own published works! To the two who have their work published, would you please stand and tell us a little bit about it?” Your heart sunk as you reluctantly stood up, one other student a few rows ahead of you standing up as well. All eyes fell to him first.
“Young man in the front, why don’t you tell us a bit about yours?” He nodded and clasped his hands together.
“Yes, of course. It was a deep and very meaningful poem I wrote when I lost someone who was very close to me. My high school English teacher actually turned it in to a competition where it won first prize and got published,” The professor smiled widely as she began to clap, the rest of the class joining awkwardly as he sat down.
“That sounds wonderful, I’m glad you had a teacher in high school that saw your talent,” she paused for a moment, turning her gaze to meet you, your hands awkwardly shoved into the pocket of your oversized hoodie. “And what about you, in the back?” All eyes were now on you, but thankfully you were seated much higher up than all of them, so you could largely ignore them.
“Um, it’s called Sarcastic, and it’s an acrostic of the word sarcastic, that I wrote when I was 15 and turned in to a competition because I had to for a grade, and apparently it was just edgy enough to make the cut,” A couple of the students laughed, not that you minded – it’s hardly impressive and extremely funny that it had even happened. The boy who went first seemed to think it was absolutely hilarious, though.
“Well, you must’ve been extremely talented to have written something so well at such a young age,” You smirked lightly and gave a thumbs up as you sat down, without any applause.
She continued on with teaching, the class relatively uneventful as it was only the first day, but you still had an assignment due on Friday: a fictional piece of at least 5,000 words. You wrote down the assignment in your planner that you only ever used the first week or so of new classes, then completely disregarded the rest of the semester, before getting up and walking out of class with everyone else, tossing your long empty cup in the trash on the way out.
With the hour you had between classes, you decided to go to the schools café and get yourself an iced coffee to have a little variety. From there, you made your way to where you knew Jimin would be getting out of his lecture shortly and want to rant about something before he had to go sit through another 4-hour lecture.
“Looks like people will probably come to me for help,” you turn behind you, feet still moving in the general direction of when you needed to go before you turned back around as he caught up to you. “No offense, I just think my poem seemed a little more impressive than yours,” You hummed in agreement as you nodded, taking a sip of your coffee as you watched the smirk on his face grow confused.
“No, that’s good, actually, because I really hate it when random people come up to me and start talking about thing’s they generally know nothing about,” you both stopped walking, now turned to face one another as you took another sip of your coffee before slapping him on the shoulder. “So, thanks for that, bud.”
You turned and continued walking to Jimin’s classroom, which thankfully was right down the hallway from where your next class was going to be. “Oh my god I almost fell asleep like 20 times, who knew philosophy was so boring?” Jimin whined the second he was out of the classroom, causing you to snicker.
“Literally everyone, Jiminie,” you smiled as he linked arms with yours as you started slowly walking down the hall to your next subject.
“You like it,” he shot back as you shrugged.
“Because I’m boring Jimin, c’mon man, wake up!” You snapped in front of his face as you aggressively told him to wake up, sipping your coffee before he noticed you had a new coffee in your hands.
“That’s not the same coffee I bought you this morning, Y/n, and did you even eat your donut?” You scoffed.
“Of course I ate my donut that you so graciously bought me, what kind of a person only drinks coffee all day and has their first meal at 7pm?”
His expression fell as you turned to face each other outside of your class, his arms now folded across his chest. “You, asshole, that’s why I asked,” Granted, you had thrown the donut away after only having one bite; it was way too sweet too early in the morning. And he most certainly did not have the right to judge you on your coffee habits.
“Well, new year new me, Jiminie. I'll have you know I'll be eating food along with my ten cups of coffee a day,” you smiled, entering the classroom.
“Can you at least narrow it down to seven cups?” He followed you to the back of the room, the only acceptable place to sit.
“Never.”
-
After class, Jimin walked you home and then invited himself inside of your quaint apartment, plopping himself down on your couch before you could even finish getting your winter jacket off.
“So, what’re you going to wear to my party on Friday?” you scowl at him as you kick your shoes off, dropping your bag next to them before you cross your arms, moving over to where he’d occupied a large amount of your sofa before you squeeze in next to him.
“Who says I’m going to your party?” You retort, Jimin’s smirk never fading from his face.
“Me,” he spoke proudly, as if he’d just found a loophole in the system that forced you out of your house. He has not.
“Friday you said?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as he nodded as if in deep thought, pondering your options, before you shook your head and moved your eyes back to meet his. “Sorry, can’t, that cuts into my brooding time. Maybe if it were on a Tuesday–”
“You’re hilarious, you know?” He asked sarcastically after rolling his eyes. You nod.
“Duh,” his face softened as he turned to face you, grabbing your hand in the process.
“Seriously, Y/n, I think you might actually have fun if you come,” he elongated his words as he tugged on your hand slightly, his bottom lip jutted out as he begged. You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand back out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let you. “C’mon, babe, I've been trying to not push you, but you seriously need to get laid,” You immediately pull the pillow that you had been resting on out from behind your back before hitting Jimin as hard as you could with it, causing him to let go of you and chuckle, hands hiding his face as you swung a second time before propping the pillow back behind your back.
“Asshole,” You started, gaining his attention, “You know I’m an emotional bitch that can only sleep with people I’m in love with, we can’t all be sluts,” he chuckled softly at your words, rubbing the arm you hit as if it was a serious wound.
“Well then you need to go make out with someone or at least, I don’t know, get drunk and relax. I can’t remember the last time you just chilled the fuck out and had fun, ” his face became more somber as he spoke, trying not to sound like he was worried but still wanted you to know that he cared.
“If you wont come for you then come for me, the only people I hang out with at these things are fuckboys and they’re not near as fun as you. I promise I won’t leave you halfway through the night to be slutty either, I’m all yours if you agree to be my arm candy for the night,” You groaned loudly as he finished his sentence, making him stop because you know he would keep talking if you didn’t stop him.
“Can we find a new topic of conversation if I agree to think about it?”
“Only if you agree to think about what you’ll be wearing to the party you’ll definitely be coming to,” he smiled, his round cheeks hiding his eyes as his grin spread across his face. You sighed, sitting back up before grabbing the remote.
“Fine, I’ll go to your frat party, Jimin. Now, do you want to watch Harry Potter with me or not?” You asked, turning the tv on.
“Of course, I’ll order the pizza.”
-
The week went by much faster than you would’ve liked it to, between working and getting used to the long class hours. You had finished the writing assignment due for your creative writing class on Wednesday; you had always been an overachiever when it came to writing assignments that you had free reign on, so it’s a bit longer than necessary as well, but you figured that would help your grade, if anything.
You thankfully didn’t have to go into the library this morning, so you were able to get an extra couple of hours of sleep before you decided to walk to campus, seeing as it had snowed last night and it was beautiful outside. You, obviously, picked a hot black coffee on your way, the hot cup warming the fingertips your fingerless gloves neglected before you finally made your way to the large building your lecture was in.
Having an extra few minutes before your professor would even open the door, you slid your bag off your shoulder and set it down on a bench near the entrance of the building. You opened it, putting your coffee down next to it as you realized opening a zipper is hard to do with one hand, and pulled out your assignment, wanting to be able to hand it to her before you even took your seat.
You absentmindedly scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before you started to notice a few of your classmates walking in the building. You put your phone away, picked up your things before you went along with them.
“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n and Mr. Kim, the two paper’s I'm most excited to read,” You turned and realized that Namjoon was right behind you, smile wide as he held his paper out at the same time you did. You both took notice of the fact yours was longer, by at least a few pages, before you both started walking to your seats.
“Quality over quantity, Y/l/n,” he spoke lowly as he stepped quickly to keep up with you. You smirked.
“Hmm,” you hummed, taking a sip of your coffee before turning, facing him as he threw his bag down on the table. “Hasn’t anyone told you, Kim? Size always matters,” you turned on your heal and walked up to your seat that overlooked the class, satisfied with the baffled look that was on his face when you left.
-
“Okay, I know I'm basically forcing you to come to this party, but that doesn’t mean you can just wear your work clothes,” It was 30 seconds after you had walked into your apartment after taking some overtime in at the library, and Jimin was already in your apartment, drinking a glass of wine with his hand on his hip as he looked at you judgmentally.
“Did you bring your own wine glass to wait for me in my apartment to get off work so that you can scold me for not being ready 4 seconds after I walk in the door?” You cocked an eyebrow as you cross your arms across your chest, but Jimin only looks at you and nods as if that’s obvious and completely normal. You rolled your eyes as you put your things down, shedding yourself of your winter coat, gloves and hat before you walked past Jimin, taking the glass of wine from his hand and taking a sip as you walked back to your bedroom. “Besides, what’s wrong with looking like a librarian?”
“We’re going to a frat party, not a book sale,” He scoffs, following you into your room and taking his wine back from you as you open your closet and begin to think, piecing different things together.
“No shit, Jiminie. You just have to give me a second to get ready,” you pause, pulling a mini skirt out of your closet, looking around to see if there was any way you could pair this with something without freezing your tits off. “If someone drugs my drink it’s entirely your fault for making me look hot,” You pulled out a tight cropped sweater with a zipper down the front, holding them up together to see if they went well together. They did.
“If someone drugs your drink, I’ll murder them,” he said nonchalantly as you heard him opening your dresser drawer. “And if you’re wearing that, you’ll need these,” He throws a pair of fishnets over the hanger of the top before he begins rifling through your shoes.
“Well, while you figure out my outfit for me, I’ll go do my makeup,” he merely grunted and waved you off as he set his wine next to him, throwing your converse across the room.
-
“You’re going to catch a cold without a jacket, babe,” Jimin walked you out of your apartment and down to the street, where you had to then try to find his car in the snow-covered and cramped parking lot with your arm linked with his. You were now at least a good few centimeters taller than him, your chunky knee-high heels barely giving you enough traction to stay vertical as you walked through the ice.
“That’s what the coffee’s for, Jimin. It makes my heart beat so fast my body temperature never drops below 100 degrees,” you smiled as you walked unaffected by the temperature to his car, which was conveniently parked at the end of the lot. He opened the door for you before racing to the driver’s side and jumped in.
“Joking about your coffee addiction isn’t making me feel much better about it, Y/n,” you only smiled as he started the car and drove the short distance between your apartment and his house. It was massive. You’ve never been inside, but you’ve seen the outside of it many times. Between Jimin being overprotective of you and you not really liking to party anymore, he just always came over to your place when you wanted to hang out.
But now as you looked up at the large house that was already blaring music with people pouring into it, you started to get intimidated, almost wishing you’d gone to at least one of these things before so this didn’t seem so daunting.
Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Jimin had your door open, hand extended to help you get out. You quickly unbuckled yourself and stood, taking Jimin’s arm as you walked up to the house, walking right in the front door into the living room swimming with already drunk people dancing on each other.
You made your way through the sea of people and found a space between the living room (dance floor) and kitchen (bar) that had fewer individuals.
“Jimin, why didn’t you tell us you had a foxy girlfriend?” You turned around along with Jimin to see what was probably the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it as his smile spread sweetly across his face. You gave him your hand, to which he turned it up and gently placed a kiss on your knuckles, not letting his eyes leave yours. No wonder he didn’t trust these guys, I would give this man whatever he wanted no questions asked.
“Because I knew you’d try to take her away from me. You know, like you’re doing now?” Jimin pulled you back slightly by your hips, wrapping a protective arm around you as the handsome one smiled.
“Not his girlfriend. I’m Y/n,” his eyes widened slightly as he looked back and forth between the two of you.
“I take it you’re single then, Y/n?” He asks. Jimin tries to step on his foot, but he moves it away quickly, eyes still boring into yours with so much intensity you almost forget how to speak. Almost.
“That I am,” you smile, ignoring Jimin’s attempts to get you to stop talking.
“Well you, miss Y/n, are welcome here anytime,”
“DRINKS, lets go get drinks, Y/n, you must be parched,” Jimin pushed you away from the pretty man giving you attention and into the kitchen where there were alcoholic drinks and mixers scattered over every surface.
“Which one was that?” You ask as Jimin finally let’s go of you, grabbing a red solo cup from where they’re stacked neatly in the corner.
“That was Jin, you’re not allowed to date him no matter how good at talking he is. Tequila?” Jimin asks, holding up the bottle he’s already poured a shot from into his own cup.
“I’ll take a beer, thanks,” Jimin rolled his eyes, grabbing you a beer and uncapping it before he still grabs another solo cup and fills it with a shot.
“You still have to take a shot with me, it’s for good luck,” he takes the beer from your hand as you sip it and puts it on the counter, shoving the cup in your hand to replace it. He holds out his arm, waiting for you to link yours around it so you can take your shots together. As you roll your eyes and comply, Jin stood at the bottom of the stairs watching you and Jimin before a large hand landed on his back, bringing him back to reality.
“You didn’t get drunk without me, I hope,” Namjoon smiled as he followed Jin’s gaze. His eyes landed on you, arms linked with Jimin, your curves on full display as you knocked your head back, letting the liquor fall smoothly down your throat before you separated, Jimin wrapping an arm around your back, resting on your hip casually as he filled his cup up once more, this time with much more than a shot. “How the fuck did Jimin pull that ass?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for his older friend to reply.
“He didn’t. That’s Y/n.” Namjoon's eyes widened as he looked at Jin.
“Y/n? As in the childhood best friend he never brings around?” Jin nods, looking back over at you. Namjoon thinks for a second before patting Jin’s shoulder again. “Dibs,” He doesn’t wait for him to respond before he makes his way over to you, walking past you to grab a beer before turning again, looking you up and down. You looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Who's your friend, Jimin?” he spoke, grabbing both you and Jimin's attention as he took a swig of his beer. Jimin sighed.
“Namjoon, with is Y/n. Y/n, Namjoon–”
“Oh hey, size doesn’t matter guy! How’s that working out for you?” You smirked widely as you took a small swig of your own beer. Jimin started laughing at your comment, not having any idea of the context but not needing any. Namjoon’s face fell as realization set in.
“You know, you look a lot different without the baggy hoodie and the coffee cup glued to your hand,” Namjoon smirks as he takes another sip of his beer, now much more intrigued by you.
“Okay wait, what am I missing here?” Jimin interjected as he finally stopped laughing, trying to figure out how you and his friend know one another.
“Remember the asshole I told you about from my creative writing class?” your eyes never left Namjoon’s, your head only shifting slightly to the side to face Jimin, who looked at Namjoon with you, mouth open. Namjoon moved his hand over his chest, faking hurt.
“Asshole? Wow, Y/l/n. That hurts, even from you,” the smug smirk never left his face, nor yours. You shrugged.
“I’m sure you’ve been called worse. C’mon, Jiminie,” you looked away from Namjoon for the first time since he’d arrived, pulling Jimin and his now very full cup of tequila that you were 90% positive he didn’t add a mixer to. “I wanna dance.”
-
“I’m not that drunk, I will be fine,” it was probably somewhere close to 3 in the morning, and you were ready to get out of here and go to bed. Jimin was probably about as drunk as you could be without completely blacking out.
“You’re not going to walk home or take the subway in the middle of the night looking like that in the dead of winter, getting buried in a pile of snow is a best-case scenario. Just come up to bed with me,” Jimin’s eyes were barely open as he leaned against the front door, trying his best to look stable by relying all his weight onto something to hold him up.
“I don’t want to put you out, plus you live with like 20 dudes, several of whom tried to grab my ass at some point,” He pushed himself off the door, putting both his hands on your shoulders before he turned you around and pushed you toward the stairs, now relying on you to remain upright.
“Then I’ll lock the door. I won’t be responsible for your death and I’m too tired to worry about you,” You rolled your eyes as you accepted defeat, helping Jimin up the stairs and into his bedroom at the end of the hall. He made sure he locked the door after you both got in the room. He hastily peeled off his shirt and threw it on the floor before falling onto his bed face first.
You pulled off your shoes, your feet thanking you as they felt flat ground again. You pulled down your skirt and fishnets, leaving them on his dresser before you slid under the covers beside Jimin, who instinctively wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him, nuzzling himself into your neck as you both drifted off to sleep comfortably in each other’s embrace.
-
It truly was a good thing you worked in a library, because on days you were hungover the quietness of it all made your head hurt less as you readjusted back to normalcy. Not that you were hungover often, especially at work, but on days you were, you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it was when you worked in a McDonalds.
You finished putting away yesterday's returns and walked back up to your desk, stopping the cart beside you as you sat down, drinking your hot coffee, begging the caffeine to take away your headache.
“Was that you I saw sneaking out of my house at seven in the morning?” You looked up from a pile of paperwork to see Namjoon with a wide smirk on his face and a book tucked under his arm as he strolled up to your desk. You looked back down at the papers on your desk that seemed to be multiplying, words evading your vision as you tried to read them.
“I wasn’t sneaking, I just didn’t want to wake anyone,” he dropped the book down in front of you, leaning his elbows on the taller portion of the desk as you scanned over the book. The Forgotten Fire by Adam Bagdasarian. Interesting book for a frat boy.
“Whose room were you coming out of?” You wrote the title of the book down on the sign out log, before inputting the same information into the computer.
“Why don’t you ask your buddies, I’m sure whoever it was would love to brag about the encounter,” You wrote the date on a card and put it back into the book.
“Ah, did you get burned, Y/l/n?” You ignored his question, handing him back his book, your sarcastic customer service smile taking over.
“It’s due back in two weeks,” You extend your hand with the book in it cover pointed out to face him as he glances down at it, smug smile still playing on his lips before he takes it from your hand. You let your gaze fall back to your desk as you continued to look over your papers.
“See you then, Y/l/n, try not to miss me too much,”
“Only in your wet dreams, Kim,” your comment conned a genuine smile out of him as he walked out the door to the library. He didn’t know why, but Namjoon needed to know who you were with, and you gave him a pretty good suggestion. He made it not even 10 steps away from the building before he pulled out his phone, opening the group chat that all the members of his frat were in.
Namjoon slid his phone back in his pocket before he could read Yoongi’s complaints.
No one had ever really stood up to him, especially when it came to his intelligence. Namjoon had prided himself on being the smartest person back in his high school, and even while he knew he had no hope of being the smartest person in the college, he’d at least hoped to be smarter than most of the people he came across.
When he saw you walking on campus on the first day of class, he thought he might try his luck at flirting with you. While he didn’t think you seemed to be the most attractive based of the over-sized sweater and hair definitely not done, but you were the shy one. Face red as you spoke allowed about your poem is a self-deprecating manner, sitting as far away from others as possible. You kept away from people for the entirety of class, and then walked by yourself to get a coffee.
You seemed easy. He’d tease you before throwing a compliment or two at your feet, and you’d be all over him. Instead, he got to the teasing part, and you’d shot back at him. You’d shot back good. He didn’t even know how to respond, so he didn’t. That’s when he decided it’d be fun to have a little rivalry with you. You didn’t talk unless someone spoke to you, but God when you did speak? It’s never something he’s expecting; and he can’t get enough.
He hated losing, and you were the only competition he’d have this semester, all his other classes seemed to go by like a breeze. But your confidence alone would make you the most fun person to go up against.
Then he saw you at the party – saw what you could really look like if you put effort into yourself and knew the feud he’d started with you was probably going to be the hardest one he’d have to overcome.
There were two ways he could win: Get better grades, get better at comebacks, and prove that he was the smartest.
Or
He could ruin you.
He’d never seen you at any parties before, so the likelihood of you being someone who liked to sleep around was low. That, and the fact Jimin wouldn’t even let you come to meet them meant he didn’t trust you around them; scared they’d break your heart or try to. So, you were probably emotional when it came to sex. If he could get you under him, he’d always come out on top.
Note: I TOLD YOU NAMJOON WAS TOXIC BUT I PROMISE IT'S NOT PERMANENT
#namjoon#rm#Kim namjoon#Namjoon x reader#Namjoon scenario#Namjoon fic#Namjoon fanfic#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts scenraio#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#Namjoon angst#Namjoon fluff#Namjoon smut#namjoon x you#namjoon x reader#namjoon fluff#namjoon fanfic#namjoon scenarios#namjoon smut#kpop fanfic#bts x reader#bts#Kpop scenario#bts x you#kpop writing#jimin#taehyung
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bleach Returns Day 7: Always by your side / Betrayal / History
Got the trifecta on this one, baby, but it wasn't that hard, because Kubo loves packaging these three things together (if you allow interpreting 'history' as 'long personal history together', which I do).
Anyway, I'm never not thinking about Ichigo and Renji's first fight, and for a long time, I've been thinking about what happened immediately after Byakuya, Rukia and Renji returned to Soul Society, specifically that Rukia had to be extracted from her gigai by Squad 2 and then thrown in a holding cell and I am sure B didn't stick around for all that, which makes this the first private conversation Rukia and Renji got to have in 40 years.
| ao3 | ff.net |
2225 words, rated Teen for cussin' (tbf they both had a lot to cuss about)
How many Onmitsukidou operatives does it take to get one soul out of a gigai? Renji wonders idly to himself. There is no punchline. All of this is one big joke, but certainly not the funny kind.
“This would probably go a lot faster if we could take her down to one of our medical units,” the Squad 2 spook who appears to be in charge of this shitshow says, sidling up to Renji. “Sir.”
“Sure,” says Renji. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t have clearance to accompany us, sir, but--”
“Then, no.”
“I could go fetch our Vice-Captain, if that would reassure you.”
“Go ahead,” Renji replies, calling the man’s bluff. Dealing with that blowhard Omaeda would really put the icing on the clusterfuck this entire night has been. On the other hand, it’s 2am, and even though the only part of this poor ninja’s face he can see is the eyes, he can tell how badly this guy does not want to have to go wake up his awful boss.
Renji makes a mental note to make sure all his subordinates know that he’d much rather be woken up at 2am than to catch wind later that they tried to start shit with some other squad’s vice-captain.
Fortunately, Rukia, whose timing is impeccable as always, manages to finally part ways with her horrible bootleg gigai, drawing in a huge breath of air with a loud, raspy gasp.
“How much soul fixer did you take?” one of the other spooks asks her pointedly. “That stuff is terrible for you.”
Rukia tells the guy to blow it out his ass, and Renji’s heart skips three beats. For the last few hours, he’s been studying her, watching, listening, trying to figure out if there’s anything of his Rukia left in her at all. The only thing that’s seemed familiar was that charade she put on at the end, acting all high and mighty and offended on the behalf of her noble brother. It’s been 40 years, but there was something in her posture, the resonance of her voice…classic tells of Rukia doing a bit. Maybe she wasn’t doing a bit, though. Maybe that’s just Rukia-as-Kuchiki. Renji’s spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering how in five realms Rukia would manage to turn herself into a noble. Faking it ‘til she made it was usually at the top of the list, but maybe her Kuchiki self would always have a ring of falsehood to it.
Captain Kuchiki often seems like he is doing a bit, too.
“I want a receipt for that gigai,” Renji announces.
The spook does a full-body cringe, and slouches off, muttering unflattering things about the Sixth Division. Renji doesn’t care. Hard-ass, rule-abiding vice-captain of Kuchiki squad is not a bit. It’s who he is now.
When the receipt comes, it’s actually a petty cash voucher with “GIGAI” written in the “Received” column, but it’s got a mostly legible signature and Squad 2 letterhead, and also it’s two in the fucking a.m., so Renji takes it.
“You need to borrow a pair of shackles?” the spook asks dryly. “Can put that on the receipt, too.”
Renji’s blood stops flowing, just for a second. Rukia is watching him. He hadn’t thought about this. She’s come along willingly up until now. He wishes he could trust her to continue in the same vein, but he can’t, both because she’s not trustworthy, and because the Vice-Captain of the Sixth isn’t a guy who lets his guard down on account of old friendships.
“No,” he says, and Rukia’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly. He jerks his chin at her. “Hands behind your back, if you don’t mind. Don’t need any dislocated shoulders.”
Her face becomes passive again as he casts bakudou number one on her. It’s easy enough that he doesn’t embarrass himself, although with the way this night has been going, it would certainly be no surprise.
A few minutes later, they step out into the night air, free of Squad 2 at last. There’s a breeze, which downgrades the humidity from “insufferable” to “unpleasant”, even just briefly. A thunderstorm was just finding its legs when they left the World of the Living. Renji wishes they would get one here, too, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards.
The streets are empty at this time of night. Rukia looks straight ahead as they walk. There’s a hollowness to her eyes.
Renji’s not an idiot. Well. He is, but he’s not a fucking idiot. Rukia is not a person who shares her heart easily, but it’s because when she does, she carves off an entire piece and dumps it in your hands, bloody and tender. Why the Hell she would do so for some human kid is absolutely beyond Renji. They only live for about five days anyway and everything they do is absolutely nonsensical. Maybe some of it was that weird gigai. Probably messed with her head. She’ll likely be fine in a few hours. Well. Maybe not fine, but at least worried about the things she ought to be worrying about.
Renji thinks about all the things he had planned out to say to her. He had spent hours rolling them around in his head all through his last weeks at Squad Eleven. Even wrote some down on paper in little bulleted lists, like the study guides Momo used to make when they were at the Academy. He can’t say any of them now. He can’t say them because Rukia boned a routine mission so thoroughly that at least three other squads had gotten pulled into it. He can’t say them because, in his idiotic confidence that there had to be some logical explanation for all of it, that he and Captain Kuchiki would be able to swoop in and make things right for her, that he made both an asshole of himself and lost a fight pathetically, to a child. Finally, he can’t say them to her, because he is the Vice-Captain of the Sixth. And she is his prisoner.
Renji has never been much of an apologizer, and Rukia isn’t a person who requires apologies, but the absence of one hangs heavy between them. He can’t apologize for following orders though. Vice-Captain of the Sixth strikes again.
“You really didn’t need to stand there and glower at them for every second of that,” Rukia says, in a way that sounds like she’s talking to herself, but he knows is directed at him. “You’ve gotta feel kinda disgusting.”
Renji bristles. “What I feel is none of your business. Someone’s in my custody, and you think I’m gonna leave them alone with a bunch of slimy Squad 2 spooks for a single second?”
Rukia stares at him for a long moment. “I just meant that you could have gone to the washroom. You do know your face is covered in blood, right?”
Renji’s hand goes reflexively to his forehead. It feels mostly dried, at least. “Oh,” he says stupidly.
“Your chin, too.”
Renji grinds his teeth.
“It’s fine,” Rukia says lightly. “Impressive, I suppose, to someone who didn’t see how it happened. You certainly intimidated the shit out of those Squad Two morons.” She cocks an eyebrow at him slyly. “You gotta handkerchief on you? Let me out of this bind, I’ll wipe off your face for you.”
He tips his head to the side and regards her out of the corner of his eye. “Not a chance.”
“I had to give it a try,” she sniffs. “It’s not as if you wouldn’t catch me in two seconds if I tried to give you the slip.”
“Give it up,” he warns. “It won’t work on me. I know you too well.”
Rukia falls quiet and he regrets saying it. Forty years of working to raise himself to her level, and it feels like all he can do is remind her where they both came from.
“Renji,” she says, after a long pause, “about that.”
“Forget it,” he says.
She ignores him, just as she always has. “It wasn’t fair of me,” she says, “to grab your arm like that.”
He wishes he had to wrack his brain to figure out what she’s talking about, but the memory of tiny fingers wrapping over his knuckles, her knee jabbing the soft space between his shoulder blades, the sudden familiar weight of her hanging off his back.
Even without her powers, Rukia is still a soldier. She knows pressure points. She had access to his throat, his windpipe, his carotid. But instead, she grabbed his sword hand. A request. A plea, maybe. Don’t do it. Let him live.
She weighs nothing. Her gigai had the strength of a human girl. The only thing staying his arm was the unspeakable weight of their history together.
Time freezes. In Renji’s mind, the human kid’s fingers close on the hilt of his stupid, oversized sword.
Renji sparred against Rukia at the Academy, and they used to scrap as kids, sometimes more seriously than others, but Rukia has always had his back when it really mattered.
If Kurosaki had the least idea of what he was actually doing, he probably could have run Renji straight through, and Renji would have just stood there, his mouth hanging open like an idiot. He keeps telling himself that this was not Rukia’s intent. Maybe she thought better of his battle reflexes. He sure wishes he did. She only expected the kid to run. She probably has no idea how much hold she still has on his heart. Or, y’know. Maybe not. To all of it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Rukia grumbles. “I don’t regret it. I would do it again. I’m just saying that it wasn’t fair of me to ask that much of you.”
“If you think I got my ass kicked as some sort of favor to you, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit,” Renji grunts. “That incompetence was 100% genuine and unfaked, but thanks for the show of confidence.”
“Oh, no, that was obvious.” She sighs and falls quiet.
He wonders what she thinks he would have done, if it had turned out he had any say in the matter. Does she think he would have spared Ichigo? Is this her inscrutable, Rukia version of a thank you? Or does she think he would have killed the kid, that leniency was too big an ask, and she doesn’t particularly hold it against him? Maybe she’s asking him to explain himself. What difference would it make? From her point of view, he has no particular incentive to tell her the truth, only whatever he wants her to hear.
“You…you can’t have worked for my brother for very long,” she finally says in a way that implies she’s not entirely sure of this fact. “You definitely didn’t work for him before I left, did you?”
“I just started,” Renji assures her.
“Well, then, maybe you don’t know him very well, but--”
“I know him well enough.”
Rukia’s mouth hangs open for a second. She licks her lips. “I see.” And then she smiles. Just a small one. Maybe a little bit rueful.
“What?” Renji demands peevishly. “What, exactly, do you see?”
“Just that you know, then. That he hates leaving things half done. That for as cool as he sounded, it probably caused him physical pain to leave Ichigo there without finishing him off.”
“You asked him to,” Renji shrugs. “It was a favor.” Her hand on his sword arm. A dramatic performance of a dutiful, penitent sister. Rukia always knows just the right way to ask for what she wants.
“You probably know that he’s not too generous with favors, either,” Rukia points out. “You could have reminded him that leaving humans with illicitly gained shinigami powers to expire of their wounds isn’t proper procedure.”
Renji doesn’t reply.
“You didn’t though.”
That’s right. He didn’t. It didn’t even occur to him. It should have. But Vice-Captain of the Sixth is still something he has to think about doing, and slipping into the support role on one of Rukia’s grifts has always been as natural as breathing.
Renji can see Squad Six’s gate up ahead. He is so tired. He just wants this night to be over.
“I woulda gone along with just about anything if it would get you to stop digging yourself a grave so deep you were about to break through to Hell, okay?”
She hums in agreement and makes a small nod.
“You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that, Rukia?”
She gives a soft snort. “Yeah,” she says, “I know.”
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Goodbye?
So this post is WAAAAAAY overdue but I felt like it was time to say something here... I’ve mentioned it on my main blog but I know not everyone who follows this is following that one.
Long story short, I’m probably never going to post here again. I don’t want to say _never _because who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind, but for over a year now I have had no desire to work on CC or even mess with anything related to it. I’ve become extremely burnt out, and I’ve even reached the point where I’m fed up enough to probably stop playing TS4.
I’ll go into more detail under the cut, but totally I understand if that doesn’t interest you. So just know that I appreciate all the love and support I’ve gotten over the years. This was an amazing era in my life and I’ll always look back on it fondly. I’ve made a lot of great friends through this process and it’s been so surreal at times. You’re all wonderful, and I wish I could continue, but I just can’t. Feel free to share/make edits to my CC as you wish.
So I guess these are my main reasons:
Burnout: It hit me HARD: At my peak I was struggling to find a job and so I had a lot of time to dedicate to recoloring. I would jump on recoloring for packs the second S4S got updated. But now I can’t even bring myself to recolor or edit anything. I was actually in a really bad place mentally at my “peak” on this blog, and my life is so different now. I’m in therapy, I’m taking meds, and I’m feeling really good. And I’m just so busy with other things, the last thing I feel like doing after work/when I have free time is to work on CC.
TS4 is Super Broken: It becomes really frustrating when every new patch EA comes out with means that people have to come to your inbox to let you know that your stuff is broken. I don’t make mods, so I always foolishly assumed my stuff wouldn’t break. But then it did. And again. And again. And AGAIN. I can’t be active enough to stay on top of it anymore. And a lot of the time I straight up don’t know WHY my stuff doesn’t work, so I don’t know how to even approach fixing it. Then there’s the issue of having to post the update, hope people see it, and try to find a way to lead people who stumble across my blog from a youtube video or blog post that’s several years old to the most up-to-date version. Its too confusing for them and for me and I kind of hate having more than one post for the same item.
I just don’t have the time anymore: I work a 40+ hour work week now, and then try to juggle my social life, chores at home, taking care of myself, and my hobbies. I barely play TS4 or get on my computer much anymore (my work is all computer based so sometimes I just want to do anything else when I get home). Its too the point that every time I’ve tried to play the game I have to update. I can’t keep up with all the changes the game is making, and I don’t even keep track of when packs come out anymore. PLUS I’m starting school again at the end of next month, and I’m still going to be working at my current job so I’m hardly going to have any free time coming up soon.
I am giving up on TS4: this is mixed with #2. The game isn’t really fun. I lasted as long as I did because I wasn’t playing, I was making CC and staging story posts. I don’t have the time to really do either of those, but I can make some time to try and play for fun. But it’s not fun. And there seems to be game breaking bugs every other week now, and while the packs seem promising, they are riddled with bugs of their own. Not to mention the laundry list of things the team has promised they would go back and fix and just haven’t, and probably never will because they have to pump out 20 new kits before the end of the year. I’ve spent more money than I’d like to admit on this game, and I don’t even find it fun to play anymore. I made the mistake of getting back into TS3 and realizing that I actually enjoy that game, which just made it so clear to me how much I don’t enjoy TS4. So I’m saying goodbye to it. I’ve complained for long enough that it’s time to really do something about it. And this is that thing.
So I think that’s it. I’m really sorry if you liked my CC and hoped I would continue. I hate letting people down. But I can’t force myself to do this anymore. I had a good run, and it was made so special by every one of you. You have no idea how much your support has helped me out through some really low times. But all good things must come to an end sometime, and I think it’s long overdue. You can still catch me at @tainoodles if you want to chat. But I am no longer working on CC. Thanks again for everything ♥
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
It does appear that the Netherworld Post instagram is now back and visibility is fixed.
Thanks, entirely, to a Tumblr anon's comment who wrote in:
"when you go to your profile, tap on the three line icon in the top right corner, Settings and privacy, Creator tools and controls, Minimum age, do you have a minimum age set there? Right now your account is restricted to 16+, which won’t allow anyone not logged in to view it."
Then after a few hours of cache clearing, everything seems to be working as intended.
I spent over 40 hours trying to figure this out. Probably far more, I stopped clocking time at 40 hours because it got too depressing.
I remember specifically setting the profile at 16+ at some point in the past -- nothing of my content is age sensitive, but I don't have kids, none of my friends have kids, so I am personally ill prepared to say "this is appropriate" vs. "this is not."
I found no documentation from Meta, Facebook, Instagram, or any forum discussing this setting's shift of profile visibility.
None.
There is no language surrounding the front end, or back end, "This profile has been age-restricted."
None.
My account was never flagged for content. There IS a backend tool that says, "is my account flagged?" and it gave me the green light, "Not flagged!" and I kept hollering, "THEN WHY ISN'T IT SHOWING UP."
The language on the previously hidden, now visible, Netherworld Post instagram was the exact same when a profile is deleted, when a profile is blocked, and apparently when a user self selects age restriction thinking they are doing something handy for parents (be it a good idea or not).
Instagram and Meta do not have a help desk with live support, they do not offer email support -- except, between this starting to yesterday, they are now offering a $14.99/month premium service which has a help desk.
I tried various logging in, logging out, changing profile types, etc. in hoping that I would be clearing a cache on instagram's system.
Because.
I repeat.
There is either zero documentation as to what was happening. Or, there is, but it is so buried as to be unfindable, which is objectively the same thing from a user's perspective.
Facebook flagged me several times, "we think you are a bot trying to sign in" and sent various automated security protocols to verify. Which I did, and passed, not being a hacker, but instead being an increasingly frustrated system admin to a tiny company.
At one point text messages stopped coming in, which was another problem, now fixed.
This last point being why I have repeatedly said, "Get 2 factor authentication, specifically using an app or other device, not a text-message."
What this means:
Your password is 1 factor, an authorization code (via app or other method) is another. It says, "It's me, I have a second key!"
When you rely on text messages, you are relying on THEM to send YOU this second key to verify. When you use an app or other method, YOU generate the key.
This removes a potential hiccup in the "are you a hacker?" "i am not a hacker" stage.
My life and career began to shift in 2012 when I started focusing business on monsters, ghosts, stories, stationery, rambles, etc. away from web design and programming, then graphic design, then (vague gesture as my company did a lot).
This entire experience felt like I was going mad. I spent YEARS helping clients AVOID THIS SITUATION.
You get the picture.
Netherworld Post is on Instagram
I feel like email lists are safer + I like emails
One of the first products to launch in the store this autumn will be "How about a monthly zine of Netherworld Post news. Super, super cheap. Help keep the lights on, help keep up to date without being at the mercy of tech billionaires."
One of the blog posts that I'm working on between now and launch is how I built said zine. I'm running efficiency tests to make it as high quality, low cost, and fast-to-send as possible. The point being, "Run a small shop or blog or whatever? Here's a way you and your audience can keep in touch without algorithms and tech woes."
This is a lot of words.
It's been a mini-therapy session.
I'm hoping it helps someone somewhere with a similar issue.
I'm very grateful for someone who does not work for Meta to say, "Hm. I may know your problem."
#instagram#facebook#meta#instagram error#instagram profile not showing up#social media marketing#social media#gif warning#warning gif#tw: gif#tw: motion
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Replete-P.2
Summary: Mike and you finally go on a date.
Word count: 990
Tags: fluff, chubby! Reader !, age gap (slight)
♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡
♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡
Mike stared at the phone, almost burning a hole through it. All of Friday and no text, and now it's Saturday the mid afternoon and still no text.
‘Was I not her type?’ Mike's mood fell a bit but he shook it off. ‘It's also the weekend, I'm sure she worked all week and is probably relaxing.’
He was not wrong, you were laying in bed doing a facemask and reading a book. Your phone buzzed.
‘Have you texted Mr. Sexy???’
You rolled your eyebrows at your friends words.
‘No not yet.’
‘:( why not!?’
‘Bc 1 im still thinking it over okay? Hes a big brother of one of the student im sure that like taboo or wtv
2 im nervous okay jeez.’
:| stop being a pussy y/n so what hes a BROTHER, yes the guardian but its not as bad at a parent or a married one at that.
DO IT Y/N!’
The paper was right in front of you, acting as a bookmark. You bit your bottom lip. ‘I mean she has a point, he's not a parent, and not married.’
It still weighed on your mind though. The numbers were burned into the back of your head now from how often you were staring at them.
You huffed a breath out, ‘FUCK IT!’
‘Mike?’
There was an immediate reply. ‘Ms.L/N?’
‘Yes, but y/n is fine :)’
Mike's heart fluttered the tiniest bit at the smiley face.
‘Cool :) y/n it is.’
You giggled and kicked your feet.
‘So Mike, what do you like to do?’
‘Relax mostly, nothing beats just resting’
‘Are you sure you're not actually over 40?’
‘I am waiting for that age to come so I can just spend it at home and blame it on my age.’
Hours and hours passed by as you learned more about Mike and he learned more about you. A thought popped into your mind as he told you his favorite cartoon.
‘Do you have any plans for tomorrow?’
Mike stared at the text. ‘Holy fuck,’ was what he thought.
He typed and erased over 3 different messages before landing on something that was fine.
‘No, not much I was gonna run some errands while Abby was with a babysitter since she want to buy like everything.
Why?’
‘Um well if you weren't too busy, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the diner to hang out for a bit.’
Seconds passed, they felt like hours to you though.
‘Yeah that sounds good. 1 sound good?’
‘Yeah perfect :).’
The conversation died down a bit as it was nearing 10 pm, and both of you were busy with cleaning up. You said your goodnights to each other and both slept soundly, dreaming of tomorrow.
The next day rolled around, bright and semi early. It was 10 a.m. you sent Mike a goodmorning, and started for the day. No one was home, so you made a quick breakfast, an omelet, toast, and some fruits for right now before eating lunch with Mike.
You put a face mask on as you listened to your cassette. You lounged around til 12 to get ready.
You did a brushed out fox eye, with mascara and a little foundation. You had a cashmere crop top and a dark brown folded skirt. You put on a leather jacket and your mary janes. You left hair down, put a soft brown lip liner and red with gloss. You opted for minimal jewelry, just a gold chain.
It was 12: 40, your stomach growled a bit. On your way down you grabbed a snack pack and headed out. You ran back in for your purse and keys, then headed out.
You got there at 12:50, as you looked to your ight you saw Mike already sitting at a both. He smiled and gave an awkward wave, which you found a bit endearing.
You walked to him, he stood up and offered to take your jacket off. You accepted and the two of you sat.
The silence was a bit awkward.
Mike tried to break it. “So how long have you been an after-school teacher?”
“Hmm I just started but I did do the summer program for the last years.”
“Oh do you like?”
“Um yeah mostly. There's some bad days of course but that could be said about any job.”
“Yeah that makes sense.”
“What about you, how long have you been a stockman?”
“2 months.”
“Oh cool. How long have you been working in general?”
“Since I was 16, so about 11 years.”
Silence hung in the air.
“Wait. You're 27?”
Mike nodded his head. “Yeah… why?”
He huffed and laughed, “What are you like 18?”
His smile dropped and eyes widened as you gave a slight nod. “Wait, are you serious?”
Again another nod. “I thought you said you worked the summer program?”
“Yeah, as a volunteer the first year and then from there as a group leader.”
“Wow. Okay.”
You bit your lip. “I'm sorry, I didn't think our age gap was that um wide. I thought you were max 23.”
“I thought you were at least 22.”
The two of you were silent again.
You're french toast was served as was his sandwich.
Plates and forks were clinking, as the two of you ate. “So…” Mike trailed off.
“So… if you still want this to continue… I would as well…”
“Are you sure? It's a whole 9 year difference y/n.” Mike said softly.
You shyly nodded, “Yeah I mean we're both adults, albeit I am newer to it. We can take it slower than usual, so we both feel comfortable.”
Mike looked at you, at your full face as you smiled and how your eyes turned into half moons. You warmed as you noticed his stare. He admired how beautiful you look.
“Yeah. I'd like that. But slow like really slow y/n.”
You giggled and he smiled at you.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Taglist: @kxllanxtdoor @mintyymao @slut4pascal
Hey yall just came out the hospital 🤪 finished up part in the er
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
you're only as strong as you think you are
on ao3. This is probably at least mostly @narcissusbrokenmirror's fault. Enjoy :)
Carrie can’t help but survey the crowd. The girls are behind her and they’re about to perform. She’s worked her ass off to get here, regardless of what everyone else has to say, but she’s nervous. And disappointed. Yet another night with her girls without Trevor in the audience. She resolves herself not to cry and straightens her spine, lifting her head high. She can do this. She’s been doing this. Just one more night. One foot in front of the other.
“And now, please welcome to the stage, Dirty Candi!”
Ray manages to sneak in the door and breathes a sigh of relief as he finds an open seat in a far corner. It’s crowded tonight and he’s glad to see it. He hasn’t missed any of Carrie’s public performances yet and he wasn’t about to start now but after everything with Julie and Victoria, it was a close call. He can’t even begin to figure out what’s going on with Julie. Missing class? Lying? It’s been good to have a semblance of her back after the past year but he’s not prepared for a teenage rebellion. He directs his gaze to the ceiling in silent prayer to Rose and then turns his attention to the stage just as Dirty Candi are called up. He can worry about Julie tomorrow, tonight needs to be for Carrie.
—
They killed it. Because of course they did. They always do. Ray pushes down the bittersweet tightening in his chest as he reflects on the distance that’s grown between Carrie and Julie and him and Trevor. He still doesn’t know what happened but he does know that he and Rose had to grieve her diagnosis alone. He has had to grieve Rose alone. Julie has had to grieve her mom without her sister. It’s weird watching Carrie perform without Julie sharing the spotlight. He enthusiastically joins in the applause when they’ve finished their performance. She might not know it, but he’s so proud of her. He wishes he could tell her but the last time he tried to reach out, it didn’t go well. And he doesn’t want to hurt Julie. For now, teetering on that edge of stalker-ish behaviour is the support he can offer the girl he’d always considered his second daughter. He’s about to sneak out when the mic crackles back to life.
“Julie and the Fat Ones!”
He finds himself curious about the band name but doesn’t get the chance to think too hard about it before he catches sight of an all-to-familiar turquoise top and long leather fringe vest topped by an also very familiar head of curly hair.
What. The Hell. Is Julie doing here?! He’s shell shocked and can’t take his eyes off his daughter or pick his jaw up off of the table. Now he gets to add breaking curfew and sneaking out to the list of grievances. Why did nobody warn him that this was what parenthood would bring?
Oh, right. He wasn’t supposed to lose the love of his life before the age of 40.
Julie corrects the MC, “hi, it’s actually Julie and the Phantoms.”
There’s no response from the room and Ray chances a glance around before she speaks again, “OK.”
And then she’s playing. He hasn’t gotten to watch her play since the last time she and Rose were out in the studio together and he’s not entirely sure he knows how to handle it.
But wait, ‘and the Phantoms’? Who are the Phantoms?
There’s a flash and suddenly three young men have joined his daughter on stage and WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? Ray can’t keep up with all of his emotions this evening. She looks so happy and free and like her Mom and Ray can’t help the tears that track down his face. He’ll be angry later. For now, he’s going to enjoy his nina breathing with life again.
And… well. That’s a way to sober Ray right up. The tears stop immediately and he wipes his cheeks as he watches Julie exchange a look with the (her?) guitarist as she sings. She’s too young to look at somebody like that, right? To have somebody else look at her like that? Right? Ay dios mio. He looks ceiling-ward again. He’s never missed Rose so much as he does in this moment. Who ARE these boys?!
Oh. And now we’re sharing a mic. OK. OK. Ray can handle this. He takes a deep breath.
They finish their song and the room erupts in applause. He drops his face into his hands.
—
Carrie watches as Andi Parker makes her way toward Julie. Of course. Yet another opportunity taken away by her ex-best friend. She scowls in their direction before whirling around and nearly running directly into…
Ray? Right. That makes sense. Of course Julie’s dad is here for her. Of course she gets that.
Carrie bows her head, adamant that she will not be crying in public, and quickly walks away. She’s not quite out of earshot when she hears a very unhappy, “Julie!”
She turns to see what’s happening. Why would he be upset? Julie’s the golden child, isn’t she? The perfect mom. The perfect dad. The perfect family. The perfect band.
“Dad!” Julie sounds surprised to see him. Oh. Was she not supposed to be here? What the hell is going on? Why is Ray here if it’s not for her?
“It’s time to go,” Ray tells Julie and Carrie is startled out of her thoughts.
Her wide, glassy eyes meet Ray’s as they walk past and she catches his face soften slightly as he steers Julie out.
—
It’s a few hours later when Carrie’s phone goes off.
Ray: You did amazing tonight. I’m really proud of you, Carebear. Keep going. Love you.
She finally lets the dam break, clutching at her Julie-bear as she cries. She lets herself feel everything that she’s been shoving down for the last few years.
When she wakes up the next morning, her face tight with dried tears, the first thing she does is change Ray’s contact name back, Dad 2.0.
#listen you cannot convince me that ray rose and trevor did not raise these kids together#but trevor keeps fucking shit up and now here we are#carrie is grieving and has no idea#nobodys fics#carrie wilson#ray molina#good parent ray molina#jatp
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
20 questions for fic writers
Between bouts of scientific sexting, IKEA shopping, and emigration counselling, @urmomsonfire tagged me to do this. Thank you! And let's go.
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
22
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
68,121 with special mention to the fact that I wrote 47,952 of them this year, the rest in the last five
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently Top Gun, mostly Tatort before that
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
all in bad taste
the sight of you leaves me weak
(toi et moi) dans la nuit on trouvera
And Everything Is You
chat with you, baby (flirt a little maybe)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Always! One reason being that I think everyone who takes the time to leave a comment at least deserves a thank you. But I also just love the interaction with people in the comment section. I love how people can write entire essays down there and are willing to discuss it all with you and want to hear extra info and thoughts on your fics. I'm doing all this for the interaction, I think.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Nichts unversucht gelassen Dich zu hassen which no, will never have a second part thank you very much
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I don't quite know how to quantify happiness but dare I say big boy, come on 'round? It's the fic with the latest stage in a relationship and basically shows that you can still be happy and sappy even after years of marriage and it's about the changes you experience and accept as you grow old together, which qualifies as happy ending I think.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I can't remember that I ever have.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Me? Smut? Noooo. (The gay kind. The somnophilia kind.)
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I haven't actually written any crossovers and I'm personally not a huge fan of them but there was a time when I was determined to write a Star Trek TOS/Tanz der Vampire crossover. It never worked out because I didn't find the time to do it due to unexpected changes in my life.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I translated one of my fics once but I wouldn't count that. The translation was part of the process and is also really bad.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
throwing A Look in Someone's direction No. I have not.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
If I had to pick one ship for the rest of time than probably Spirk. Maybe Victorian bachelors Holmes and Watson because they're hilariously codependent.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I don't know of that counts but I probably won't ever finish the Nachspiele series (if you care). I'm like 40 episodes behind and don't think I'll ever get back into it enough for me to care.
I also have a Hangster WIP which basically had the concept of telling their story through the years, including their first time and epic breakup and getting back together, through songs Bradley plays to Jake on a bar piano. But there were details I couldn't quite figure out so I abandoned it.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I think I'm good at visualising stuff for myself. I don't know if that translates to my writing/characterisations though. Also overthinking.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
First lines, last lines (or endings in general, knowing when to stop), titles. Plot. Not getting distracted but that's a general problem of mine.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
As in "incorporating dialogues with lines of another language into a fic"? I don't mind it when it's well done and adds to the story but I can't see myself doing it (maybe for the train fic).
19. First fandom you wrote for?
I'm going to take the very easy out here and say Tatort.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
This might surprise some of you but toi et moi! If, and I say IF, the cave fic turns out the way I want it to, that might be a strong contender, too, but it's also just really self indulgent, so.
No idea who has been tagged already but tagging uh @theinsouciantknitter, @perishablealex, @wordsonamission
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's time for a not so quick rant. Again.
So, I finally met my friend after seven years and I can't believe she put up with my shit for so goddamn long. She's an angel, I swear.
I mean, we didn't meet 'cause I've been struggling with anxiety - I still do - and I was scared, mostly for trivial reasons, and she's always been so patient and understanding. When we first met, and also the last time we was each other, I wasn't skinny but I was definitely skinnier than I am now. I don't like it and I have trouble accepting it, although I know it's okay 'cause bodies change constantly while living, and I'm working on it because I do want to feel better in my own skin. At the same time, up to this exact moment, my mom has always judged me and made comments about the way I look so I always expect the same thing from others. Now, about my honey boo, I know for a fact she is not that kind of person but that fear is rooted so deep down in my brain that I can't help it. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED every second of the time we spent together (too little 'cause she had to leave to go to work but it was such a huge step for me, it was worth the 40 (80 round trip) minutes drive), we hugged each other so tightly and shed few tears, I didn't want to let her go when she had to and I'm already craving our next meeting but I couldn't shake that fear off. And I feel such an idiot, I can't believe I've deprived the both of us of something so beautiful and important for something sooo damn stupid. I'd slap myself, for real.
On top of that, my parents left for a week and I had yet another proof that the less I'm around them, the better I feel. And the truth? Every time I feel a bit less guilty for feeling this way. I mean, I can't force myself to feel something that isn't there. Sad? Yeah. Am I a bad daughter/person? Probably. Will I ever stop feeling guilty? I don't think so, rather I'm sure a pinch of guilt will always be there. But what can I do? It is what it is and I'll work with that. And last but not least, I'm thinking about something and I also believe I am insane and I'm shitting myself 'cause I don't know where to begin, I have no idea, zero, nada. The void. Basically a mall will open nearby next year and I had the brilliant idea to start a bookstore business there. Why? I wanna cry.
8 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
stannisvelaryon
S.V.
mikageoreo
mikage reo is addicted to oreos
l-agnes
Fotot/photos
forgottens-things
Sin título
sariannoo
Sara ♡