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cafterdark · 5 months

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Posted 16:35, 12/5 to r/puppyplay

How do I get used to nerve integrating tail

So my gf a few weeks ago admitted she was into puppy play. Now I'm a pretty vanilla guy so I was a bit wary, but open to try it. We've gotten a collar and leash that I wear when we play, but I just got my Christmas bonus, so we splurged on a nerve integrating tail. It feels pretty weird to have it on, but my gf is ecstatic. It certainly has brightened up our bedroom life lately. I'm still not entirely into puppy play, especially when she calls me a "good boy" but I do admit it's quite fun. My only question is how do I get used to it.

Posted 22:51, 12/17 to r/puppyplay

Is it dangerous to wear NIT for more than two weeks?

Hello again,

Thanks for all the advice y'all gave me in the last post, I'm really used to the tail now. I love the wave it wags when I'm excited and so does my gf. It has come to the point I feel like I'm missing something when I take it off. I know the general advice is not to keep it on for more than two weeks but I kind of want to keep it on. I work from home so none of my coworkers know I'm wearing it. And when I do need to go out, it's really easy to hide it under some clothes. So is there any risk to having it on for more than two weeks?

Posted 08:11, 1/7 to r/puppyplay

Skin grown over NIT port

So I just woke up and looked at my NIT and saw that skin has grown over the port. Whenever I try to take the tail off it hurts like hell. What can I do?

Posted 09:12, 1/7 to r/medicaladvice

Any way to remove an overgrown nerve integrated prosthetic?

I wore a NIP longer than the recommended time and skin has grown over it, is there any way to take it off?

Posted 18:15 1/7 to r/puppyplay

Gf is okay with permanent NIT

It's been an eventful morning for me and my gf. I told her the news that I'm stuck with a NIT from now on. I expected my gf to leave me, but she's been nothing but supportive. I'm usually not one for being the little spoon, but she cradled me and comforted me. I love her so much. Thank y'all for your kind words and support. I know it's fairly common for people to have eccentric prosthetics nowadays, but as much as I love this tail, it's going to take a while to get used to it. I'll keep y'all updated.

Posted 13:43, 2/9 to r/puppyplay

Side effects of permanent NIT?

Hey again,

So I've gotten used to the NIT being permanent, but I've been having some things happen to me that I'm wondering if they're caused by it.

To start, when I was done with a workout, my gf noticed I was panting with my tongue out. I hadn't even realized I was doing that.

Another one is that my body and facial hair have stopped growing. Not that I miss them, but it's kind of weird. Weirder still, my hair has been growing rapidly. I was starting to bald before, but now it's down to my shoulders. It's gotten so long and full that my coworkers joked that it looked more like a woman's hair.

Are these side effects of the tail or am I just losing my mind?

Posted 12:21, 3/15 to r/puppyplay

More side effects of tail?

So I know y'all said that permanent tails don't have any mental or physical side effects, but I'm not so sure.

I'm not sure when it started, but I'm starting to make more dog like noises. When I'm excited I bark up a storm, whimper when sad, growl when angry. I'm not doing any of those on purpose, it's like the rise from my throat. When I see a squirrel, I feel the urge to chase after it now. My gf has joked that she needs to collar and leash me when we go out, but I'm a bit nervous.

Speaking of my gf, I used to tower over her. Yet today, she was my height, maybe even a bit taller.

Other strange things, my nipples is a bit swollen and puffy. It really hurts to touch them.

What's happening to me?

Posted 10:23, 3/30 to r/puppyplay

Tits?

So I've been in denial for a while, but my tail is making me grow tits. I realized this when I was putting on a tight shirt and my boobs were really clearly visible. My gf nearly died when she saw them. After a bit of laughing/leering, she measured and found they're A cups. She gave me one of her bras to wear, which feels a bit itchy.

Posted 17:12, 3/31 to r/puppyplay

My tail is feminizing me

Hello again,

After looking at old photos of myself compared to me now. I'm certain my tail is feminizing me. I'm shorter than my gf, my skin is soft, I basically have no body hair, my hair is super long, I have tits, and um, my equipment is tiny now. I look better at least, but idk what to do.

Posted 15:35, 4/10 to r/asktransgender

Why does my GF calling me a "good girl" make me so excited.

So I'm a cis? guy. Due to a faulty prosthetic I'm wearing, it has slowly been feminizing me. Now, I'm having some mixed feelings about it and my gf asked if I liked being a guy. I really hadn't cared about my gender before so I said yeah. She then asked me how I felt about the phrase "good boy." When I told her it made me feel weird and awkward, she called me a good girl. I suddenly got so happy and my prosthetic went wild. My inside felt so warm and complete that I couldn't even try to hide how happy I was. What does this mean? Am I trans?

Posted 11:13, 4/19 to r/asktransgender

New Name!

After a week of introspection with my gf, I've realized I'm a trans woman. And to thank her for all the help she's done making me realize that, I let her pick my name.

So hi, I'm Bella

Posted 22:12, 4/21 to r/puppyplay

Gf acting weird

So me and my gf do a lot of puppy play and usually it stays in the bedroom. But lately it's been weird.

To start, she insists on cooking for me. It's such good food, but what's weird is that whenever I eat it, she clicks something. Weirder still, its the same click that I hear whenever I cum.

Also, she's gotten a lot more dominant lately. She's constantly telling me how cute and hot I am. How much she just wants to mark me up. She insists I wear my collar 24/7 so "Everyone knows who owns me." She even asks me to call her owner sometimes.

I get so flustered and my tail goes wild any time she acts like this but it's still weird. She never used to be this direct and dominant. I'm not against it but it's kind of weird.

Posted 16:37, 4/30 to r/asktransgender

Why do clothes feel weird?

So me and my gf have been clothes shopping for a new wardrobe lately and we've run into a brick wall. Every bit of clothes I've worn lately has felt tight and itchy. Even my old boy clothes.

Why is this?

Posted 18:15, 5/7 to r/puppyplay

Why can't I disobey my owner?

Um, so my owner has made some really big changes to my life lately. She's told me I'm not allowed to wear clothes anymore, sleep on the bed, eat on the table. She's gotten me a dog bed to sleep on and some labeled dog bowls for me to eat out of. I have to wear my collar 24/7 and whenever we go out I need to be leashed. I can't even walk on two legs anymore.

Yet I don't want to disobey her. It's not like she's abusive or anything, the opposite really. But my brain can't even think of not listening to her. Especially when I hear a click and every bit of my brain is filled with devotion to her.

What am I doing wrong, why can't I disobey her?

Posted 11:17, 6/5 to r/puppyplay

Y'all were right

Y'all were right. It's so much better being a good puppy for my owner. I don't have to worry about anything. She's so kind and sweet and wonderful and caring and ugh my tail is wagging so fast just talking about her. I'm so glad I've accepted my place. Thank you all so much for helping me realize this.

Posted 14:25, 12/5 to r/puppyplay

Gifts for a really good Puppygirl?

Hello

I'm the owner of a wonderful little puppygirl. She's had a big year of changes and I want to get her something wonderful to cap it off. Any suggestions?

#t4t lesbian #t4t ns/fw #queer nsft #t4t nsft #lesbian nsft #lesbian ns/fw #mtf ns/fw #wlw nsft #lesbian #bottomposting #puppyposting #puppy sub #bd/sm puppy #dumb puppy #transformation #hornyposting #high effort hornypost #hrt that turns you into a puppygirl #smut

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kithtaehyung · 3 months

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would u? (3tan717) | myg

3tan717 drabble #1: would u? pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!! note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now! warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est word count: 2.3k

Ugh.

Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?

Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.

To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.

You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.

Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.

Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.

However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.

Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!

Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—

“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”

Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.

But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.

…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?

“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”

Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.

Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.

Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.

Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.

After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?

You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.

When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.

Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…

Uhh.

Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.

Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.

But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.

Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.

Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…

On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.

And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.

Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.

When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Like a motherfucker.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”

“Okay.”

He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.

Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.

And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”

“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”

Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”

“It’ll be quick.”

“What are you making?”

A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”

As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.

And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.

Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—

“Take the medicine, baby girl.”

Oh.

Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”

Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.

As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.

Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.

But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.

It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.

Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”

“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”

“No?”

“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”

“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”

“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”

Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.

“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”

Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”

“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”

Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”

“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”

“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”

At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.

“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”

With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”

When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.

If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.

You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.

But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.

“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”

Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.

Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.

As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”

Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”

Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”

You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.

“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”

Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.

And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.

“Go ahead and sit, babe.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.

Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.

And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.

Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.

When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,

“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”

As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.

“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”

So this was for him, too? Good.

Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”

“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”

Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”

“I’m lazy!”

“Tough shit!”

“I know!”

Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”

Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”

“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”

"Really.."

For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.

Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.

When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.

Breathtaking.

When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.

And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.

Three of them, to be exact.

fin. :)

how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe

a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!

a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha

#ahhhh here we go!#3tan717d1 #3tan717 #bts fic #bts imagines #*ryenfictalk #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #three tangerines #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #*latest #ryenwrites #bts fluff

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dix0nvix3n · 9 days

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𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway.

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up.

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you.

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens.

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag.

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?"

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth."

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow.

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up.

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you.

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one.

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift.

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago.

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face.

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?"

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?"

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon drabbles #norman reedus #;daggerwrites 🗡️📝#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 11 months

Text

Nimona headcanons cause I love this chaotic little family

I’ve seen a lot of people say Ambrosius is a morning person and Bal is a night owl

And I have to respectfully disagree

Will Bal pull some all-nighters in the lab? Absolutely

But this man is the most early bird coded character I’ve ever seen in my entire life

When he isn't fully invested in a project he can't stay up past 10 pm

He wakes up at 6 am refreshed and barely needs caffeine

I’ve also seen a lot of people say he’s a dedicated coffee drinker but something about this man screams “Coffee gives me migraines”

Ambrosius on the other hand

That’s an insomniac if I’ve ever seen one

He’ll get ready for bed around 9 and then stay up til 3 in the morning

Poor babe needs coffee in an IV

He used to wake up really early back in the institute cause he was forced to run a mile every minute he was late to class

And he’s a heavy sleeper so after the wall came down and he quit being a knight he wouldn't wake up before 1 pm even with Bals help

And Nimona is just as bad

Most nights Ambrosius will leave the room because he moves a lot when he can’t sleep and Bal is a light sleeper

He’ll sit in the living room watching tv while trying to sleep and most of the time Nimona will join him

Every once and a while Bal will find them laying on top of each other on the couch and will take them back to their respective beds

And if you’re wondering what their favorite show to watch together is it’s those house-flipping shows

But not for the reason you think

Most people watch those shows cause they think it’s inspiring

Ambrosius and Nimona talk about how terrible these people are at their jobs

They’ll go on hour-long rants about how these people are stripping the houses of everything that made them a home

(Ambrosius is a sentimental bitch and would be a maximalist after leaving the institute prove me wrong)

When Nimona is bored she’ll go into the city disguised as Bal or Ambrosius

And she’ll fool literally everyone it’s a pretty common occurrence for the boys to be at home and then they hear the other swearing like a damn sailor because there are already news articles about it

The only people she can’t fool are Bal and Ambrosius

Bal will shut them down almost immediately

They’ll walk over to Bal and won’t even get a word out before Bal says “Shift back Nim you’re freaking me out”

They always make a big deal out of being caught making big decorations like “I’m getting better and one day I’ll fool you”

And he’ll hum in agreement but he knows that it doesn’t matter how good he gets or how observant he is he’ll be able to fully copy every little detail

The details that Bal has spent the past decade and a half remembering

You know the little things like how he can’t say Bal or Nimona’s names without smiling even when he’s pissed

Or how he scrunches his nose when he laughs

Ambrosius always acts like Nimona tricked him

He’ll let them get comfortable in the character and then he’ll drop the bomb

Something small and inconspicuous like “Hey Nim do you want pizza for dinner?” and they’ll excitedly proclaim “Hell yeah pizza!”

It takes them a second to realize they’ve been played and when they do they never make a big deal about it

They normally just mumble a curse or two and walk away with their tail between their legs (literally)

The first time Nimona tried to trick Ambrosius was when he was having one of those days

You know the days when even breathing feels like a fucking battle

This was in a really awkward period too

Like right after Nimona and Ambrosius started trusting each other but right before they really started to get to know each other

But she knew the boys well enough to know if Bal came home to a sad Ambrosius then he’d be in a bad mood for the rest of the day

And she knows that the only thing that can cure a mopey Ambrosius is Bal

She walked into the room and started talking to Ambrosius and was kind of surprised and a little bit peeved about how well she was fooling him

Until he said “You can drop the act Nim I know it’s you”

They kind of just sat in that silence for a minute until Nimona said the first thing that came to her mind

“You want me to find my sax?”

Bal shouldn’t have been surprised to find Nimona disguised as him serenading Ambrosius with the worst freestyle jazz he’s ever heard (which is saying something)

He didn’t even say anything he just sat down and cuddled the love of his life while watching their kid try and play the sax while breakdancing

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #those dorks know each other better than they know themselves #I'm fully convinced Bal has spent days counting the freckles and beauty marks on Ambrosius' face #Cause they're sappy like that #Nimona isn't the best at comforting people #it's a real learning curve #especially cause these boys have a sadness that runs crazy deep #I'm sending all of these poor traumatized bubs to therapy #this is so long #I think it’s the longest post I’ve made in a while

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t-h-i-n-g · 1 year

Text

“He looks at her like he just realized what love is.”

————

(jacob black x reader)

-chapter one- series-masterlist

summary: skipbo is a beautiful way to bring people together

Word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, ?awkward introductions? (Sorry if shit seems wack in some spots its 1 am rn and I feel like my eyes are burning from how bright my screen is BUT IT CANT GO DOWN ANY GODDANM LOWER)

————

When you first moved to Forks you never would’ve guessed it would come with a six foot three man that seemed to be smitten by you the moment you walked into his life.

It seemed like something out of a movie… However the love at first sight trope was rather one sided at first.

The late afternoon breeze caused a chill to roll up your spine as you walked along a dirt road. It had been about a month since you have moved to the small town in Washington.

The weeks following the last u-haul truck dropping off your family’s belongings had been rather uneventful.

School was an easy transfer. You were able to find all of your classes with the help of a student named Edward Cullen. He was the first face that became familiar to you when wandering the halls filled with unknown identities. However you and Edward didn’t seem to really click but he was nice enough to introduce you to his friend Bella, as he decided you too would be the perfect match.

You learned that they were indeed not just friends soon after meeting the quiet girl.

Walking around a corner while aimlessly searching for a bathroom caused you catch the sight of them making out rather feverishly towards the end of the hall. With a smooth 180 you decided that pissing your pants would be a better option than a hypothetical extremely awkward conversation. You also scolded yourself for not realizing sooner that they were a pair as the love struck gazes the two shared should’ve been more evident.

It took a few days to let the shock wash off and something told you that Edward knew exactly why you sputtered every time Bella offered to walk you to your next class, his eyes twinkling in amusement as you fumbled over your words.

Bella and you did click just like Edwards expected. You often became a third wheel when you hung out with the girl as the couple seemed almost inseparable. But you didn’t really mind for the fact they were never very big on PDA. Small actions were shared quietly between them every so often instead. You picked that up by eyeing the gentle touches and gestures the two exchanged throughout the day.

However, even though they were glued at the hip you were still able to get Bella to yourself. One of those times included you walking down a said dirt road, the fresh autumn air being taken in through your nose.

Bella wanted to introduce you to a few people from a nearby reservation; stating you’d hit it off great with a couple individuals in particular. She had insisted on parking her rickety old truck on the side of the road and the two of you walking the next mile or so to your desination.

You still haven’t fully understood the girl beside you. She’s extremely introverted but at the same time very expressive in a way. You never would have expected Bella Swan to be a sucker for listening to leaves crunching. That’s the only reason she wanted to hike the rest of the way in the first place.

“It’s just so satisfying,” she stated, walking in a rather funky way, attempting to land on a leaf with every step she took. Your face scrunched up as you watched her strange movements.

Bella Swan was definitely someone you will never stop learning new things about.

There was an intersection along your path that Swan girl directed you down. The sight of, what you assumed was, your landing place came into view. Many driveways broke off, trailing to different houses.

It took almost another 10 minutes of weaving down roads and passing hundreds of evergreen trees for Bella to finally point towards a red house accompanied by a shed.

Voices sounded as you approached the front steps. Light nervousness bubbled in your stomach but there was no time to over think as Bella swung the screen door wide open, holding it long enough for you to catch it from hitting you.

The smell of cedar, pine, and musk doubled as you stepped into the household.

You were met with the sight of a kitchen. Dated appliances and a wood table taking up most of the space. The ceiling light casted a yellow glow across the room. The wooden floor looked recently swept and a quiet sizzling was heard. On top of the stove was a pan with a lid; steam emitted through the sides.

The door behind you shut with a quiet click. As soon as it did the voices speaking from people you couldn’t see stopped.

Bella crouched down to untie her laces. Casting your gaze to the floor you took notice of the multiple pairs of shoes piled up on the rug you were currently standing on. Many of them were scattered away from their matches. Seemingly kicked off without a care in the world.

“There's a coat rack over there,” Bella's voice broke you from your thoughts. Glancing at her you looked over your shoulder to look at the mostly bare metal bar. A single large jacket was hanging from it.

Your brows furrowed, taking in the fact that with the end of fall approaching, more and more people were talking out their winter jackets; and you’d suspect with the amount of shoes there'd be coats to match the amount. The question didn’t deter too much in your mind however as footsteps approached.

Just as you pulled your parka off of your shoulders and hung it a large looming shadow casted from the bare doorway.

“You brought the goods right?” A deep voice rumble, almost shaking your soul.

Bella huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Why does no one even say hi anymore?” She asked in faux annoyance. Maneuvering to look at the owner of the baritone wavelanks you were met with the sight of a man leaning onto a wooden frame. His jawline was sculpted and his figure was rather muscular.

“Hi Bella,” he replied with fake enthusiasm. His cheery expression dropped to an almost emotionless one. “Did you bring it or not.”

“Yes Paul, I brought it,” Bella admitted, taking off her gloves, placing them next her jacket. “Why are you all so obsessed with SkipBo?”

“Because it’s one of the best inventions of all time,” someone stated over ‘Paul’s’ shoulder. He was taller with more of a baby face.

“You would think that.”

Jesus Christ they just kept leveling up. Another boy appeared, somehow taller than the second.

“Bella’s here?”

When will it end?? Where the hell were they pulling up from???The fourth was in similar height with the third, having a lanky build.

“Embry you literally can’t even talk,” number two stated, turning to number three.

“I’m not the one who flips tables when he loses.”

“It was one time-“

Apparently you were invisible. ‘Embry’ and number two broke into a bicker as number four watched in amusement. Paul was too busy snatching the card deck from Bella’s grasp with a mumbled thanks as he turned it over, inspecting.

“This is Y/n by the way,” she suddenly announced. Paul’s eyes glanced up to you briefly before unwrapping the rubber band holding the game together.

“Hey,” he greeted, dismissing you with a turn, his back facing you as he sat the game on the table.

Your face was scrunched in utter confusion as you took in your surroundings. Arguments still bustled and Paul just peacefully shuffled the cards. Parting the deck and making a bridge before repeating.

You looked at Bella in questioning, asking ‘what the hell’ with your eyes while you toed off your shoes. She simply smiled gently in response and looking over at the group of boys.

“Where’s Jake?” She asked crossing her arms and shifting her weight on to one foot.

“Doing some shit with Sam. Said he’d be back by 4:00 though,” number four pushed between Embry and number two. Who shoved him rather harshly but number four didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Y/n you said?” He asked, holding out a hand in greeting. Looking at it dumbly, it took a second for you to shake it.

“Um… yes?”

“Was that a question?” He quirked a brow, lip curving slightly at the corner.

“…No?” Number four chuckled lightly.

“Jared,” he introduced, placing his hand back down by his side. You smiled politely, lips tight. “Over there is Embry and Quill. I’d say they usually aren’t like this but I’d be lying,” Jared winced as the two boys behind him continued to climb in volume.

“Can you guys just shut the fuck up,” Paul finally snapped glaring with an annoyed expression.

“Well tell him to stop calling me an antisocial little bitch,” Quill stated, pointing a finger in an accusatory manner at Embry.

“They’re like children,” you mumbled.

“Aren’t all teenage boys?” Bella remarked. She swiftly brushed past you and took a seat next to Paul who began dealing out different piles.

“Y/n, you want in, right?” He asked, not taking his eyes away from the cards.

Twiddling your thumbs you hesitantly took a spot across from Bella.

“I may be rusty,” you warned.

“Can't be worse than Bella,” he mumbled, earning a light slap to his arm. A small smirk played on his lips but he paid the action no mind.

Slowly but surely the spots around the table began to fill. Jared sat next to you while Quill went to Bella’s side and Embry went to Paul. A single chair next to you remained empty.

Quill rubbed his hands together.

“Who’s ready to get shit on?”

“Shit like the time you shit your pants when you’re dad-“

“Bro I thought we established that it’d be peace and love from now on?”

“Sorry, your aura is just asking me to insult you,” Embry defended.

“What does that even mea-“ Quills question was cut off by a harsh slam of the card deck making contact with the middle of the table.

Paul gave both boys a pointed look.

“Usually by now he’d have pumbled them,” Jared murmured. You looked over at him. “Think he’s playing nice to not scare you off,” he stated his eyes glancing over to meet yours. You chuckled lightly.

“Should I thank him later?” You questioned jokingly.

“Nah, you’d inflate his ego.” A snort slipped past you.

“If Jacob doesn’t show in the next five minutes he’s getting dawn duty,” Embry stated.

“Dawn duty?” Looking across the table you furrowed your brows at Bella. She shook her head, a quiet message for you to not question it.

Minutes ticked by as useless banter continued to flow around the table. Your lips had stayed shut for the duration of it. The group of people you were surrounded with were rather… interesting.

But what else would you expect from a bunch of teenage boys just like Bella had said.

The topic of if pickles wrapped in ham was a food crime rose just as the sound of hinges creaking faintly sounded as Jared explained how the appetizer must have been crafted by Edward Einstein himself.

The door was pushed open and a figure pushed into the crazed house.

First thing you noticed about him was his well built stature. The guy had the shoulders of a fucking body builder. The wideness of them made his shirt hang loose on his frame. From what you could see of his face, his jaw was sharp, nose sloped, and his eyelashes were so long you could see them from your seat. Overall he was extremely attractive (might you even say a certified hottie).

As soon as, who you assumed was ‘Jacob’, stepped into the house he seemed to visually relax. The familiar environment calming him in and externally.

“Sorry I'm late,” he mumbled, hunching down to untie his shoes.

“Embry said you get dawn duty,” Quil blurted out. Brows furrowing Jacob looked up, annoyed expression taking over his features. Even looking like he had to sneeze he looked hella fine.

“The fuck I do,” he scoffed. “Who was the one who just made 20 laps.”

Nobody protested while he continued to unlace. He greeted Bella with a light smile and a brush of her shoulder. She beamed back at him.

Jacob had yet to acknowledge your presence. You brought your finger nails to your teeth; biting on them in a force of habit. He was rather intimidating. Leg bouncing, you looked down at the wooden table top. It wasn’t until Jacob sat down next to you did he finally note your existence.

“Y/n, right?” He asked with a light grunt as he plopped down. You glanced at him, not meeting his eyes as you gave a tight lip smiled and nodded.

“And you’re Jacob?” You questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm, nice to finally get to put a face to a name. Bella’s been talking about you not stop.”

“I have not,” the girl weakly defended. Her cheeks blushed lightly at the accusation. “Only like 3 out of 5 conversations is she mentioned.” she stated.

“Yeah, that's more than you talk about your own lover. Got something you gotta declare to your new friend, Bella?” A small grin washed over your face as she stuttered.

“Well, you don’t like my lover Jacob and you don’t like me talking about him either so that’s why.” Shrugging, the boy placed his hands palm down on to his thighs, not denying her statement. His legs spread, making his knee nudge yours. Instinctively you pulled away. Mumbling a sorry Jake adjusted in his seat.

“Can we just start?” Paul asked, an impatient edge in his tone.

Words of agreement were shared amongst the group.

“How’ve you been liking Forks?” Jacob asked casually, attempting to start conversation.

“It’s been good,” your answer was short and simple.

“Not sick of the wet yet hopefully. Cause if you are, there’s a lot more where that comes from.”

“Tell me about it,” Bella murmured, examining her hand.

Breathing out a laugh you picked up a card and added it to your others as your turn came. Biting your lip once more the memories of how to play began to grow foggy.

“You can lay down the one,” a voice whispered to you. Instantly you retracted your hands to your chest to hide your valuables.

“Are you looking a my-“

And that was the moment where Forks did become intresting.

The moment where Jacob Black’s eyes met yours, the distance between you a mere four or five inches as he was previously peering over your shoulder. The world shifted under your grasp and just by the way his gaze held your own you knew he felt the change as well.

However the closer you looked the more it seemed he was feeling your emotions ten fold. A star struck gleam sparked across his irises. His body froze as his breath became stuck in his throat.

The way Jacob looked at you made it seemed as him he’s known you forever and a minute as admiration casted over him.

Your own frame felt stiff and stuck. Not knowning if you should look away or even if you could. The grasp on your cards grew tight as the table around you was now silent.

What had just happened…?

————

Like and reblogs are appreciated:))

#jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #jacob black x yn #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x you #twilight x reader #twilight

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anon1nn1t · 1 year

Note

please give me everything u can fit in a post about Mr snapchat NSFW and SFW I am DESPERATE it is so hard to find genuine hcs about him he's so over looked >;((

also just found ur account and am in love with everything u have written so far mate can't wait to see more from you, take care of yourself today!!

Stop this is so kind. 🥹🫶 And you’re so right about Sapnap being over looked !! But don’t worry, I’ve got your back. :) Just like my George hcs, I wil add more to this over time. * Also, to the person who sent the ask about Dream, I’m working on it !! *

Feel free to request !

SFW:

He’s actually such a sleepyhead.

He’s always hunting you down to ask you to cuddle with him so he can take a nap, falling asleep against your shoulder/knee whenever you’re busy.

Sure, he can sleep without you, but if he has the choice, he will always choose to sleep with you in his presence, since it helps him sleep better.

Secretly has so many pictures of you sleeping.

He’s sooo clingy

Constantly kissing you, hugging you, touching you in every way he possibly can.

But as clingy as he is, he knows when he needs to give you some space.

He has some major jealousy issues.

If any man other than him simply looks at you, he will give him a death stare, squeezing your thigh, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

It’s not that he doesn't trust you; of course he does; he’s just possessive. You’re his and his only, and he wants everybody to know it.

Constant fake fighting between the two of you.

But if he ever accidentally actually hurt you? He would be an apologizing mess, begging for your forgiveness, when in reality, you were holding back laughter from how hard he was trying when in reality you didn’t care as much as he thought you did.

As we know, Sapnap has a few insecurities, so I feel like he would need a bit of reassurance sometimes.

He would just randomly ask you questions that you always answered the same

"What’s your favorite thing about me?"

"How much do you love me on scale from 1-10?"

"Why are you with me?"

Please just remind him how much you love him.

Hate to break it to you, but he’s definitely a little bitch during fights.

And if you ever tried to kiss him or hug him mid-argument? Ohhh man.

If y’all were to ever get in a fight, just leave him alone. Literally, just walk off; it’s for the best.

He gets angered pretty easily, as we know, so basically just don’t piss him off.

He doesn’t mind pda at all. He doesn't even realize it’s something that some people don't like because it feels so normal to him.

He bases his mood off of yours. Not even on purpose; it just comes naturally.

You’re having a bad day? He’s having a bad day. You’re having the best day of your life? He’s having the best day of his life.

He spoils you so much, maybe even too much.

Anything and everything you want, he will get for you. It eventually gets to the point where you have to stop pointing out stuff you want because he buys it every. time.

He loves loves loves when you wear his clothes.

"Is that my hoodie?"

"Yes, when is it not."

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It’s just you."

He also loves when you wear dresses/skirts.

He absolutely adores showering with you. Every time you shower together, he’s wishing he could stay in that moment forever and ever.

Late night drives with blasting music ?!?! Instant yes.

Speaking of music, it’s definitely a huge green flag for him if you like his music taste.

He will do everything in his power to protect you and keep you safe.

NSFW:

Do I even need to say he’s dominant ?!

If you ever seriously wanted to try being dominant, he would let you, but it would be followed up right after with him taking over.

I feel like he has a lottt of kinks.

Dirty talk, discipline, humiliation, teasing, overstimulation, daddy kink, orgasm control/denial, etc.

Ass guy 100%

Loves loves loves eating you out.

He loves your thighs so much oh my god 😵‍💫

Continuing off that, he loves to cum on your thighs or inside of you.

Gives you so many markings just to remind you you’re all his.

He’s so rough with you, he just has to give you the sweetest aftercare. :)

I feel like the only times he’d be gentle are early in the morning, late at night, or if one of you needed some comfort.

He totally kisses you the whole time, sloppy kisses, but still kisses.

He would much rather focus on your pleasure than his. You being pleasured brings him pleasure.

His favorite position is either doggy style or reverse cowgirl.

PUBLIC SEX HOLY SHIT …

Every time before he’s about to do something new he will ask you if it’s okay. Ex: Moving from giving you hickeys to eating you out, moving from eating you out to fucking you, etc.

I actually don’t think he’s that experienced…

When you’re not around, he will totally jack off to pictures of you. He has no shame about it.

I feel like he only goes for one or two rounds.

Oh, how he loves to get his hair pulled.

He also loves to be praised so much oh my god.

Overall, he is pretty dominant, but focuses on you more than himself. <3

#dreamsmp #sapnap #sapnap smut #sapnap x reader smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #sapnap hcs #sapnap headcanons #dsmp smut

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gavi4me · 7 months

Text

7 minutes in heaven

Pt.1 Pt.2 pt. 3

Characters; Ferran - as himself; Pedri - as himself; Gavi - as himself; Ansu - as himself; you - y/n; Sara - your friend; Ana - your friend

Warnings - slightly smutty, cockblock, asshole pedri, ansu, & Ferran, little angst, fluff, cursing

Likely typos cuz at the time of writing this it is quite late where I live so I am basically half asleep while writing this….

“Gavi you can go suck a dick” you yelled at him, walking off angrily to your car. Pedri followed you outside, wondering why you had just blown up.

“I don’t want to talk about it” you yelled angrily, not turning your head to face him, getting into your car.

“Come on just tell me what happened.”

“God pedri. Leave me alone.”

You slammed the door shut, taking off almost immediately.

He stood there like an idiot, not moving until you were out of his view. What has that asshole done now he thought?

You were in the post-breakup ‘bliss’, just wanting to make your ex jealous so you went out to a club with all your friends, not realizing they had invited Pablo to tag along. You had always hated gavi. Ever since you guys had met on the first day of the 7th grade when he transferred to your school. You tried to be nice and become friends with him until you noticed his arrogant, annoying, and overly confident personality that worked like bug spray, making you stay, or at least try to stay as far away as possible. Didn’t work however ever as both his and your parents became good friends, often inviting each other for dinners and eat outs. Since your parents were friends, they assumed the same with you and Pablo, often forcing you to carpool with them when your parents couldn’t pick you up. Occasionally even sleeping over, though this only lasted till year 10, your parents knowing hormones were going around and not wanting you two to do any mischief. As if! Not that his parents weren’t nice. It’s the thing they created that you hated. You hated how he always bragged about being good at football and someday becoming pro. You hated how he nonstop talking about how his jawline was perfect and how he had a 6 pack and how every girl would want him soon enough, including yourself, if god forbids you gain crush on him. When they’d invite you over for dinner, you and Pablo would go into his room and sit there awkwardly while Pablo would juggle his football, seemingly trying to show off. He always was rude to you. Calling you fat when you were going through some hard times, always aiming for you during dodgeball first, specifically the head, and now. During the party he had made a senseless joke about how you walked in on your ex with another girl saying, “okay at least woman want me. How bad at sex can you be for your 3 year boyfriend to cheat on you with some donkey ass looking girl.”. He joked and laughed but you had enough. You had slapped him hard. “You are a vile, vile person Pablo gavira. Go fuck yourself.” Is what you said before slapping him again a finally leaving. “I don’t have to. All the women at my feet will, unlike you who can’t seem to find a fuck buddy for the life of you.” This all lead up to this situation.

~ a couple months later ~

It had been a while since you’ve last seen Pablo gavi, going on with your life like nothing ever happened. Yeah maybe sometimes you thought about what he had said. And MAYBE cried yourself to sleep knowing he thought you were ugly, but still. You felt at peace with yourself finally.

You had been invited to ansu’s house for a party, only being told that a bunch of people would be there. Not specifying who.

You walked into a lively party, music blasting from a couple of speakers. People scattered around on ansu’s furniture. Some talking, some dancing, some making out. You tried finding Ansu, instead you bump into someone. You landed on a hard chest, placing your hand on it to stabilize yourself.

“Oh my ba-“ you cut yourself off when you finally noticed who it was you were apologizing to. Gavi. Quickly you wiped your shirt with your hands and borderline ran away, feeling his eyes on you but not saying anything.

The rest of the night was awkward. You two exchanging glances multiple times. He didn’t seem to be as bothered as you. He was talking with other people, dancing, laughing, smiling, everything like that. You on the other hand we’re sitting on the couch with a cup of beer in one hand and your jaw in the other, resting your elbow on your knee as you people watched.

Your friends Sara and Ana were talking the whole night next to you, not bothered to ask what had happened knowing you were quite stubborn when it came to telling people stuff.

“Do you guys want to play 7 seconds of heaven?” Ansu suddenly proposed to the group who had gathered around the couch you were sitting on.

“Yeah I’m down.” Pedri said with a beer bottle in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Anyone else?” Ansu asked. “We can’t just play us two”. Ferran, gavi, Sara, Ana, and i all agreed on playing. We spread out on the many couches ansu had as he went to his coat closet it find a hat.

Ansu wrote our names on small pieces of paper before dropping them into the hat.

“Okay our first two are….” He moved his hand in the hat, picking up a name. You already weren’t having fun tonight but to spice it up you decided to play, praying to god it wasn’t you.

“Y/n” he announced placing it on the coffee table. Everyone starred at you smiling, knowing you hadn’t been too active ever since your breakup with your 3 year boyfriend.

“I hope it’s Pablo…” Sara whispered in your ear, giggling right after.

“I hope when it’s your turn you get paired up with Ferran.” You mumbled. You’ve known for a while how much Sara has liked Ferran, though you never understood it. (Irl me talking - how do you guys find Ferran attractive?).

“And Pablo.” Ansu placed it next to your name as you opened your mouth wide, still trying to process whose name had just gotten called.

Gavi had a smirk on his though, pedri slapping his shoulder while laughing like the rest, knowing the tension between the two of you.

“The two bestest of friends in a closet! I wonder how that’ll go!” Pedri laughed, fueling the fire.

“Okay you two, time to go into the closet.” Everyone stood up to follow ansu into a closet in his bedroom. It was quite spacious, enough to fit maybe 4 people.

Gavi entered first, turning back, waiting for you to enter as well. You stood at the entrance hesitant, but not wanting to not be called a pussy after. Finally Sara pushed you in, shutting the door right after.

“Have fun you two.” Ana giggled before they all walked away.

You both just stood there, not looking into each others eyes, just standing there in silence.

“You know one of us has to do something?” He spoke.

“Not my problem.” You said, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Kinda is actually….” Pablo murmured.

You both sat in silence for another second.

“Why are you always so bitter towards me” Pablo asked, coming closer to you with his arms crossed.

“Why are you always a self absorbed asshole to me, and basically everyone?”

You stared at him. It seemed like he was trying to come up with an answer. He came even closer, pushing your back so you were touching the wall. His lips were grazing your ear as he spoke.

“Y/n I don’t believe you understand how perfect you are. You have the perfect smile, the most perfect eyes I could get lost into, and lips I’ve been dreaming to kiss ever since we met in our English class that Wednesday morning in the 7th grade. I really am sorry for the way I’ve treated you the last few years. It’s just that everyone I knew liked you, including men which got me jealous. I was the man who was allowed to love your perfect and sweet soul. After a while I realized it was wrong to be in love with you, especially since our parents were good friends and you seemed to not like me. I tried pushing you even farther away so it gave me no other choice but to not love you. Insults, bitterness. All of that. And I thought flaunting my good traits and talking about myself after a little while would have you realize all my good traits and such so you’d like me and I’d feel like I wasn’t the one who was chasing after you because Pablo gavi doesn’t chase. Didn’t rather. I tried chasing you and I now realize those feelings never vanished. I still am very much I love with you and I know after all the years of hell I put you through it might be hard for you to accept, just all I ask of you is to give me a chance and I’ll treat you like like the only girl in the world..” After he was done he gave your ear a kiss and went back to starring at you, waiting for a response.

“-y-yes” you hesitated.

Without another word he smashed his face onto yours, hands going up to your jaw to keep it there, not wanting the kiss to be over.

The kiss happened to suddenly. You were caught off guard, still tensed up a couple second into the kiss but softened up soon enough.

This kiss was rough and needy but also passionate and affectionate. Pablo’s lips tasted and felt sweet, and soft, and like heaven as if you had been waiting for it for ever since that Wednesday morning you two met.

After a couple of seconds of staying in the same spot, Pablo finally let go, resting his forehead and nose against yours as you both caught your breaths, starring, or rather admiring one other beauty and look of swollen lips.

A couple seconds later he went back to kissing you, this time it was much faster pace. He added his tongue in, allowing you to suck on it.

Your hands moved to his head, grabbing and pulling at his hair so he could come closer.

“S-so..good” you mumbled.

His hands started to go underneath your skirt, feeling your panties through your tights and pulling at the material.

“We can’t do it here Pablo…they could come in at minu-“

“Shhh. Trust me I know what I’m doing.” He slid his hands up to your shoulders where the off-the-shoulder shirt hung off. He moved the sleeves down to reveal your braless chest. Pablo starred at your breasts for a couple of seconds before lookin back at you and smiling.

You’d always felt self conscious about your chest. You couldn’t decide whether if it was too small. Men always made comments on it saying “the last girl was DD” or “no men go for woman under a C”you were a b cup.

“They’re perfect.” He said before starting to nibble at the skin surrounding on your nipples.

“They’re a little small…don’t you think?” You asked in between heavy breaths and a few moans here and there,

He lifted his soft eyes up to meet yours as he was still leaving little nibbles and groping the other.

“I said what I said…” he lifted his lips off your breast to give your lips a small kiss before going back down.

“P-Pablo I c-can’t FUCK” you groaned.

When Pablo was moving on to the next nipple, the door suddenly swung open.

When he heard the door, Pablo instantly lifted his mouth off to turn around.

Everyone who was playing was watching the scene, a camera in pedris hand as they all bursted out laughing.

Due to instinct, you grabbed Pablo by the collar to come closer to you, hiding your chest behind him.

“Walked in not even wanting to touch each other now being all over each other.” Ansu said in between laughs.

Ferran was watching the scene unfold behind the camera, trying to get a better view of your breasts.

“Move carbón. Im tryna see some titi today.” Everyone laughed again. You get the gist. Seemed like everyone had something to say that was funny today.

“Fuck you” Pablo said flipping him off.

You finally started pulling your shirt back up, gavi acting as a wall between the others and yourself.

Once done, you pushed Pablo and others to the side and went to the living room to grab your purse before leaving. You didn’t want to see any of their faces anymore.

As you were searching for your keys in your bag, you heard someone calling after you.

“Y/n! Y/n, wait!” Gavi was yelling.

You didn’t respond, trying to ignore him.

“Y/n” he panted getting close. “-I thought you left”

“I don’t want to talk Pablo…” you said finally unlocking your car.

“Please I’m angry at them too” Pablo came up from behind, wrapping his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place as he caught his breath.

“I want to be alone Pablo. No hard feelings” oh hard feelings for sure, but you weren’t going to say that.

You opened your car door and entered before locking it.

“Please y/n! I need a ride.” Pablo said knocking on the window.

You started the car and sped off

A/n

I’m the slowest writer ever BUT in my defense I’ve got school, which will always be my priority so yeah. Anyways, this will likely become a series. 3-5 chapters maybe even longer. Next part will likely be uploaded in the following week.

#gavi #cockblock #y/n #fanfic #fluff #light angst #gavi fluff #pablo gavi #pedri #ferran torres #ansu fati #tw cursing #seven minutes in heaven

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untilwedont · 1 year

Text

Sleep Well, Dear

I Love You Forever

Pairings: Ethan Landry x Male!Reader

Summary: In which reader falls asleep on Ethan after a long week of studying

Warnings: Mentions of not eating, reader being very sleep deprived, Ethan being a good boyfriend

A/N; Im sorry im writing so much ethan landry fics ive just been so obsessed with him lately 😭

It was finally edging towards the end of the first semester. This was great since your college gave you a break, but with the semester coming to an end came finals week. This was really important to you because you wanted to make sure you passed every class with a good grade. You decided it'd be a great idea to start studying two weeks before finals week, putting all your mental health needs behind you and your studying in front.

It was the first day of studying. You sat in the very back of the library so you wouldn't be so distracted from all the other noise by other people. You read the time on your phone '10:15 AM' You hoped you'd get at least a few hours of studying done before you called it a night. You made sure to tell your friends & your boyfriend where you were incase they wanted to study with you.

What was supposed to only be a few hours turned into wasting your whole day on studying. You checked your phone again, thinking maybe only a couple hours passed.

3 missed calls from 'Mi amor 💘"

1 missed call from 'TaRAAA'

3 messages from 'SAmmm'

'2:15 AM'

Your eyes widened, "Shit, how long have I been in here?" You mumbled before finally looking up from your phone, noticing that the library was empty. Your eyes had been so glued to your textbooks that you hadn't noticed everyone in the library left. You rubbed your hands on your face, your tiredness finally kicking in. "I'll just message them tomorrow, I'm sure their asleep." You thought to yourself before packing up your things and leaving.

'7:15 AM'

You were back in the library once again, disregarding the fact that you hadn't eaten a full breakfast. You only had a granola bar before leaving your dorm. You only got 5 hours of sleep last night but that wasn't important to you. "Okay, this time I'll only be in here for a few hours." you mumbled before opening your textbooks, diving right back into studying.

'9:07 AM'

You checked your phone and saw a message from Ethan asking if he wanted to hang out with he and Anika. You messaged him telling him you'd be able to hang out in a few hours and to just give you time to study a little longer. You gave him a time and he messaged you with a thumbs up emoji and you set your phone back on the table, gluing your eyes back onto the textbooks.

That time was supposed to be '3:00 PM' but when you looked at your phone once more, it read '9:10 PM' What the hell? How did time pass by so quickly? You quickly packed your things and left back to Ethan's dorm, knowing he'd still be awake.

You knocked on the door, Chad being the one to answer it instead of Ethan. "Hey um, is Ethan still awake?" You asked the tall figure in front of you. "Oh, yeah he's still awake. He's in his room. I think he might be a little bummed but not sure why." Chad told you and you nodded, walking into the dorm. You knocked on Ethan's door before walking inside. "Hey, Eth? You awake?" You asked as you opened his door. You saw him sitting on his bed with his phone in his hand, the Tv being the only thing that casted light.

He looked up from his phone and immediately got up after he saw you. "M/N, where were you? I thought you said we'd meet at 3?" He asked before putting his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. "Sorry, I just got caught up in studying. I didn't expect time to pass by so quickly, honestly." He pulled away from the hug before studying your face.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" He asked, examining the slight bags under your eyes that you hadn't realized you had. "Of course, why?" He shook his head, "Uh- no reason, just asking.." You nodded before kissing him on his lips, "Okay, well I'm gonna go get some sleep. I'll hang out with you tomorrow, okay?" You spoke, holding both his hands in yours. He nodded, "Okay, go get some sleep. I love you." He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your nose. "I love you too." You laughed before leaving the dorm, going back to yours.

A couple days had passed and your sleep schedule was getting much worse. You were hardly eating and the most sleep you got was 2-3 hours. Eyebags developed under your eyes and your friends started to become worried about you. You spent most of your day in the Library instead of with your friends. You spent some of your time crying in the library, your mental health getting worse.

Your boyfriend finally had enough of your sleepless nights and decided that if you weren't gonna let yourself sleep then he'd have to force you. He went to the library to find you since that was most likely the place you'd be at. He ran up to you when he saw you, closing your textbooks. This startled you, causing you to immediately look up, relieved to see your boyfriend. "Eth, what're you doing here? You stared the shit out of me. Also, what time is it?" You asked, checking your phone.

'11:37'

"It's time for you to get some proper rest. Pack your things and get up, we're going to my dorm." He told you, helping you put away. "Wait, what? But-" Ethan cut you off, "No but's, M/N. You haven't been getting any sleep. Also, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?" He asked you, very concerned for your mental health. It took you a second to think, "Maybe.. a week ago? I've been living off of granola bars." You told him, not realizing how much you'd been starving yourself. His eyes widened for a sec before pulling you out of your seat. "Alright, I'm gonna get you something to eat before we head back to my dorm. What do you want, hm? Mcdonald's? Pizza?"

An hour passed and you were finally back at Ethan's dorm. You finally had a full stomach instead of having a half-empty stomach throughout the week. Ethan pulled you towards his room and laid out a pair of warm clothes for you. You put them on before laying down on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wrapped his around yours as well, "You aren't getting up until you've gotten more than 6 hours of sleep, okay?" You mumbled back a 'okay' before closing your eyes, falling asleep within an instant.

Sometime had passed and you were still knocked out. Ethan had been up for a little, admiring your sleeping face, slowly scratching your back. He was interrupted from his door opening. He looked up to see Chad, and before he was about to speak, Ethan softly spoke to to him, "This is the most sleep he's gotten in weeks. If you wake him up I will kill you. Literally." Chad put his hands up in defense before walking out his room, softly closing the door.

Ethan smiled before turning his attention back to you. You seemed so peaceful in your sleep. He softly kissed your head before closing his eyes, falling asleep once again.

#malereader #male!reader #male reader #ethan landry x male reader #scream x male reader #jack champion x male reader #gay #scream x reader #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry imagine

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shuttershocky · 7 months

Note

Do you have a dislike for media universes that "rewards" people for watching/reading all of it in general?

Or do you think there is one that executes that idea well?

I'm answering this 5 months late, but I'm pretty sure I still remember this ask being prompted by a post making fun of the MCU.

Do I dislike story universes that reward people for reading all of it? Not at all. I mean, I'm a fan of both Middle Earth and Star Wars, I fucking love big, big universes with plenty of stories in them. When they intersect in some small way it's a delight to me, I love those little personal winks from the author for having read their other works or recognizing the most obscure names only a nerd would know.

However, there's a difference between a little reference in a story meant for people who can connect the dots, and making something almost required reading for your enjoyment. It's the difference between an acknowledgement from the creators that you liked the setting enough to come back for a new yet familiar ride, and a company realizing they've found their cash cow and can't wait to milk it for all its got until it's dead.

And dead the cash cow will be, eventually. It's been said before that the reason why the Big Two of western comics have ceded more and more ground to manga over the years is that Spider-Man has 10 different starting points while Naruto starts with Volume#1. That's not just a funny joke. Onboarding new readers has genuinely been Marvel and DC's problem for decades, which is why it was both incredibly predictable yet shocking all the same that this is what the MCU turned itself into.

Sure, early on you could ask the audience to watch a couple movies before the big Avengers crossover, but now they've got all these TV shows on top of the movies that you have to watch in order to "catch up", and it's not even about the cool characters anymore. More and more of their fanbase is going to stop caring once the barrier of entry gets too high, and it's ridiculous to me that Marvel went this road with their movies when they know this is what happened to their comics first.

I mean, are you serious, their next big bad is Kang? I am not watching several TV shows and an Ant-Man movie that's somehow worse than the second one all to see how the currently left Avengers meet goddamn Kang the Conqueror. He's in both the TV shows and the movies, which means they're somehow giving Kang more buildup screentime than Thanos. Why? Either I've been extremely out of touch with Marvel comics or the MCU picked a wild choice to headline their next billion dollar franchise when Doctor Doom is actually available to them now and barely needs an introduction.

Sorry, got lost for a bit. Back on topic, yeah I know I know, all art right now exists under capitalism which means every setting that becomes a wider story universe is an author trying to milk their existing fanbase. Whenever a creator makes a thing that I like, and then announces they have a new thing set in the same setting as their first thing but isn't a direct sequel so they can keep gaining a new audience while keeping their existing one, I know I'm being suckered in.

Just, don't make it so blatant. And don't make it so hard. I am the exact target audience for these shenanigans and even I'm starting to feel like it's homework because it's all fucking required now.

If I, a lifelong Star Wars fan, want to watch the newest Star Wars thing, I have to see a hundred hours of other Star Wars media first. If I want to watch The Mandalorian Season 3, I can't just have seen Season 1 and 2, oh no, I have to also see The Book of Boba Fett too, because halfway through that show became The Mandalorian Season 2.5. Well I did see Boba Fett, and the combination of my dislike for turning it into required homework AND the show itself just being kinda dogshit meant I never touched season 3 of the Mandalorian. That show used to be so great because it wasn't tied down to any existing story arcs or characters, so it stood on its own and made for an amazing watch no matter how much Star Wars you've actually seen. And then it succeeded and so had to become the new spine for the entirety of Disney Star Wars afterward. Fuck. Now if I want to watch their latest show Ahsoka, I have to have seen the Clone Wars animated series AND Rebels, because the Rebels cast are in it too! I mean I did see Clone Wars and Rebels, but that still sucks!

That makes me worried now! Andor was also really fucking good and it stood on its own so hard you didn't even need to see Rogue One, the movie that introduced Cassian Andor in the first place. But now that season 1 was a success and everyone sang its praises, it certainly means season 2 is suddenly going to get real cramped with Ahsoka and Luke Skywalker and whatever guys are currently alive in its timeframe. Shit, they're probably gonna add Cal Kestis in season 2 of Andor. The Respawn Star Wars games are still doing their own thing which means it's time to connect to something else.

I hate what all this has become. It was fun to read the Silmarillion and see what kind of fuckery one family of elves got up to that eventually turned Sauron from minion to big evil eye parked next to evil mountain, but you didn't need to read all that before The Lord of the Rings. LOTR didn't assume you knew anything at all (and oh boy did Tolkien never miss an opportunity to explain shit).

Let me repeat. I am the target audience. I live for the ridiculously nerdy habit of reading things set in the same universe as other things and connecting all the dots. If /I/ feel like it's become homework, I can't imagine what the average person thinks of all this. Make it stop. Stop running everything I once loved into the ground in the name of endless profit. Star Wars was already doing this to itself before the Disney acquisition and yet it didn't feel this bad.

#I would take hundreds of disconnected and mediocre Star Wars comics and books made in the Legends era #Over what's happening to it now

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matttgirlies · 20 days

Text

Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn’t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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sensitiveheartless · 7 months

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20 questions for fic writers!

Tagged by @feralrookie! :D Thank you for the tag!!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

10! (technically, kinda)

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

379,547

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Bungou Stray Dogs! It's also the first fandom I've written for, actually. :D

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is how it feels to take a fall (Dazai goes feral, time shenanigans)

Plate :( (Dazai breaks a plate, experiences emotions)

Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency (Howl's Moving Castle AU)

Chuunyaa's Pawsitively Catastrophic Day (Chuuya is turned into a cat, it's short and pretty much just shenanigans)

Wish in one hand (First fic I wrote, and the first one I posted — Dazai has emotions about handholding)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but I've been absolutely terrible at it lately — whenever I'm particularly stressed I start worrying that the negative emotions are going to leak through into what I'm writing and make my tone sound weird, so then I end up turtling in on myself and not saying anything at all, no matter how much I want to engage with people. It's a bad habit, and I want to work on it, so I'm gonna try to catch up on comments! (I treasure every single one of the ones I receive, so for anyone who has left a comment and hasn't gotten a response from me yet, thank you and I am very sorry about my inability to form words in a timely manner skdjfksd)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably An Unsent Letter, since it's pretty much just a short snippet of Dazai being sad while he's leaving the mafia. And even with that one, I have in my head that skk still get together after the four years apart, I just didn't write it. I am dreadful with sad endings — although the ending to "This is how it feels to take a fall" is a little bittersweet, perhaps.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm...I'm gonna say Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency, because it's the one with the longest buildup, so I think it has the most catharsis, at least for me! But I tend to give all of my fics happy endings because, as established, I am a wimp when it comes to hardcore angst. I will say that Zut Alors I Have Missed One is probably a contender for happiest as well, just because that fic had no angst whatsoever and was just Unhinged

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Nope! Everyone's been lovely! I have gotten some for my art, but honestly it was pretty toothless and I couldn't take it seriously lol

9. Do you write smut?

...Yeh. :0 There was an attempt, at least — one fic, and I made it anonymous (so on the extreme off-chance that anyone notices a discrepancy between my total ao3 wordcount listed here and the summed up wordcounts of the fics viewable on my profile, that's why!) It's also another fic I need to finish, I hit my writing roadblock with that one at the same time as all my others, and it's almost doneeee I just need my brain to cooperate >:|

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not any proper crossovers, only things like the Howl AU and the Little Mermaid AU, where I took the settings/plots and put in BSD characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

...Possibly? I'm not actually sure, I've given a couple people permission, but I'm not sure if anything came of that, I haven't heard one way or another :0 I do have a tendency to use puns, which I realize might make things difficult for translations

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not so far — and given how tempestuous my schedule has been, it'll probably be a while before I attempt anything like that! Sounds fun, though

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

...I mean, it's gotta be soukoku, because for all that I've enjoyed a lot of fictional pairings before (for example, Howl and Sophie specifically from the HMC books, Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing — I like bickering duos, what do you know — Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, currently falling down the Hualian rabbithole because I'm reading Heaven Official's Blessing with my friend, and there's lots of other ones), for as much as I like all those, I haven't really had much of an urge to write anything for them.

So, purely in terms of me wanting to mess around with two characters and write them over and over and over again, it's really only skk! They hit the exact right combination of braincells, I guess lololol

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably won't?

Hmmm...honestly, most of my WIPs I still intend to finish at some point or another — first priority being the ones I've already started posting, of course! Although...just due to time constraints, I might not get around to writing the thief!Chuuya/detective!Dazai one I was planning a while back. (and I mean a WHILE lol) I didn't write very much of it, and honestly most of the reason I wanted to write it was for comedy — so maybe I'll turn it into a short comic series instead, because I do think some of the bits were funny :0

16. What are your writing strengths?

That's a hard one; I tend to look more at the ways I want to improve my writing then at what I like about it, and I nitpick just about everything I create, art and writing alike. But if I had to pick something, I would probably say dialogue? That tends to be what I write easiest, at least. I still want to get better at that too, though.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and action scenes. I've been making myself write them more, so I think I'm slowly improving (the Howl AU has been great for that! It pushed me to write all sorts of scenes I wouldn't have normally :D ), but those two things remain what I get bogged down by the most.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the circumstances, I think? I'd include translations if I did. I do tend to include Japanese honorifics when I'm writing in the canon universe, because there's not really english equivalents and it feels like I'm leaving something out when I just do their names straight — although I did take them out when I was doing the Howl AU and the Little Mermaid AU, just as a setting thing.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Bungou Stray Dogs — like I mentioned in the ship section, this is the first fandom where I've really felt the urge. Although I did write things when I was little that very blatantly yoinked in various creatures and concepts from the things I was reading and watching, which resulted in stories with pirates and weeping angels and Ringwraiths all running around in the same place. But I didn't usually bother with bringing in actual characters from those pieces of media, or even using the settings, I just made ocs and had them run around in my own made up world.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I like all of them for different reasons, but I think my favorite overall has to be Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency. It's the longest thing I've ever written, and when I started out I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it — so the fact that it's most of the way done (currently chipping away at the epilogue, it is getting to be a LOT of words) makes me really happy. And it's just been so much fun! Writing characters I hadn't before, piecing the world together, working out the magic system, writing Dazai being a mess and Chuuya being cool, it's all been a blast. And I seriously need to finish the epilogue, because the followups are living in my brain and they demand to be freed aksdfjksdjfk

But yeah! I'm not sure how many writers I know on here have already been tagged, so I'll just go open tags on this one! :D If any of y'all write and feel like doing this, then go for it!

#tag game #senhart rambles #senhart's writing #long post

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epinebleue · 6 months

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for him (m) | 02

after a year abroad, you think summer back home can’t get any better. then, a charming ginger boy catches your eye.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader (female)

genre: rich kids!au, fluff, angst, mature.

warnings: mention of low self-esteem and racism.

chapter index | previous chapter | next chapter

Every summer, Jennifer’s parents spend two weeks in France to celebrate what they call their “annual honeymoon”.

Every summer, Jennifer throws a pool party while they’re away.

You’re supposed to be at her place at 10 AM to help her prep the space, but having stayed up late the night before, the annoying sound of the alarm does little to wake you up in the morning, Oliver doing so, instead.

You step into Jen’s patio exactly two hours later. She clicks her tongue at you, as if saying: “Finally!”.

Through the dark lenses of your sunglasses, you glance at her body as she approaches. The beautiful baby blue bikini she’s wearing fits her like a glove, as if it had been tailored with her in mind.

You’re used to feeling insecure whenever you’re around Jen. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

It’s been this way since middle school, when one day the boys in your class rated the girls’ bodies from 1 to 10 on a piece of paper. You came second to last, while Jen’s name sat comfortably in first place.

“I know, I know.” You let out a sigh, allowing Jen to give you a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny and Sooyoung wave at you from inside the pool and you wave back, walking to where the rest of your friends are. Wendy, who was sunbathing, sits beside you under the parasol. Victoria gets out of the pool and joins the group soon after.

Once settled on the lounger, you scan the space. Ten and Lucas are sitting on the edge of the pool with sunglasses on, swinging their legs in the water, immersed in what seems an intense conversation. Sooyoung and Johnny splash around as they try to drown each other, much to Yuta’s annoyance, who finds their game an obstacle to what he really wants: swim in peace.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but then, the switch in your mind flips: someone’s missing.

“Hey, where’s Chris?”

There’s a moment of silence where Wendy takes a sip of her lemonade, eye-siding Jen. “They argued yesterday.”

Your brunette friend looks away, missing your surprised expression. “Again?”

Chris’ parents are family friends, so you’ve known him for as far as you can remember. However, you had never interacted much until he became Jennifer’s first serious boyfriend.

Being an only child, Chris is expected to inherit his family’s wealth and business. If he’s famous for something, though, that’s his looks. You must admit he’s drop dead gorgeous. Of course, Jen wouldn’t settle for less.

Soon after they started dating, you realized that having a handsome partner had its drawbacks. Jennifer would whine in your group chat every week about how hard it was to stand girls checking him out, how some would go as far as to sneak papers with their phone numbers when she wasn’t looking.

Even if Chris politely rejected their approaches every time, Jennifer started to gradually get sick of the whole situation until, one day, it exploded.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s a Greek statue come to life, Jen, of course he will be hit on!” Wendy says. “You’ve got to learn to cope.”

Jen rolls her eyes at Wendy’s words, a sign she’s getting angry.

“On what side are you on, exactly?”

“We aren’t picking sides.” You try to mediate, making a gesture to your blonde friend, asking for her sun cream. Having prepared your bag in a rush, you must’ve left yours at home. “I know it’s hard to watch people flirt with him all the time. But Wendy has a point, too. Being good-looking isn’t his fault, you know?”

You end your statement with a glance in Victoria’s direction, but the girl doesn’t say a word. She’s the type to not participate in debates like this.

“Exactly!” Wendy agrees, pointing at you. “Besides, he always rejects those advances. He would never hurt your feelings on purpose, Jen. He’s literally the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Talking about me, I see.”

You turn around to find Yuta standing behind you, soaked from head to toe. A water drop on the tip of his hair falls on his shoulder and you follow it as it slides down his chest and reaches his happy trail.

You fan yourself. Good thing it’s hot today. Otherwise, what would you blame the fire in your belly on?

Jen chuckles as Yuta sits next to her, seeking protection from the aggressive sun. “Humble as always.”

“I thought I was the nicest boy you’ve ever met.” He shoves her with his shoulder, smiling. You’ve got the urge to look away. The fire in your belly is quickly replaced by an unsettling feeling you’re familiar with.

“After Chris.” Victoria finally speaks. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Not really, but I’ll get over it.” Yuta shrugs. “How come you’re still dry? It’s a pool party, ladies, come on!”

All your friends stand up, encouraged by his words and the terrible heat, and start walking to the pool. Except you. When Yuta notices, he gestures to you to join them.

“I’m not done.” You say, shaking the suncream bottle in the air.

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

“It’s fine.” He sits exactly where he was a few seconds ago. “Just go with the others.”

“Some more time in the shade never hurts.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” You find it hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. “You’ve fooled me. I thought you were a gentleman.”

Yuta leans back, his abs flexing as he speaks. He’s got such a tiny waist, adorned by a tattoo of a butterfly. You wonder if it carries any meaning.

“Oh, but I am.”

“I don’t believe it.” You finish extending the cream on your left arm. “You’ve hung around Ten for too long.”

“Other people’s personalities don’t change mine. I’m not Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him.” You’re aware of the bad reputation that precedes Lucas. A drunk heart-to-heart conversation that happened before you went abroad helped you realize Lucas uses his behavior as a mask to hide his numerous insecurities. In a way, you can relate to that. Besides, being the youngest of five successful siblings makes him subject to his parents’ expectations, which tend to be unrealistic. And his brothers, far from supportive, are entitled assholes, straight-up bullies. No wonder he feels he has to act all tough to be taken seriously. “He’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, are we talking about the same person?” You’re about to defend Lucas again, but upon watching you struggle to apply the cream on your back, Yuta interrupts you before you can talk. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll get sunburnt there, anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yuta grabs the bottle and sits right behind you, deaf to your words. At his insistence, you reach for your hair with trembling hands. Before you can even move it aside, he does so, his fingers brushing your back in the process.

You hold your breath at the sound of the cream coming out of the bottle. And then, his hands are on you.

You think your heart will jump out of your mouth and start running around the patio.

His warm palms delicately rub the cream into your skin, and you hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that bloom when he reaches the small of your back.

God, you’re so touch-starved it’s embarrassing.

You wonder if you’re tripping when Yuta takes a little longer to massage your shoulders. Trying to focus on anything else, your eyes land on Jen, who has joined Lucas and Ten by the edge of the pool. The bikini lets her flat stomach on display. Unconsciously, you suck in yours. She places her hair behind her shoulders as she laughs at something that Ten says.

Even her laugh sounds beautiful, everything about her is!

That must be why Yuta likes her so much.

You stand up, getting as far away from his hands as possible.

“I think that will do.” You say, eyes fixed on the floor, aware of how much you’ve just embarrassed yourself. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” His tone remains normal, but if you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him frown at the sudden mood change. Yuta leaves the bottle on the chair and follows you to the pool.

“About time you stopped playing handsies back there.”

You simply lift your middle finger at Ten, quickly making your way towards the staircase, hoping the water will hide your body from the rest.

It’s close to midnight and you’re on the verge of begging your parents to leave.

You’re celebrating the promotion of someone you don’t even know; drinking alcohol-free champagne, which you don’t even like that much; and bored Robinson Crusoe level.

Oliver and Noa left the moment they found their friends. Oli had invited you to join them, but you kindly refused, knowing that you would feel like a babysitter around his friends.

So, here you are, glued to your parents’ side, forced to listen to important conversations with important people, interested in neither.

Why have you been forced to come if your presence isn’t even going to be acknowledged? Your dad said it would be rude not to attend after a year abroad. What you understood was that they wanted to show you off, and the party seemed to be the perfect occasion.

You gulp the remains of your drink and leave the empty glass on the nearer table. You open your mouth, about to ask when you will be heading out when your dad’s name comes from the crowd.

“Jonathan!” He exclaims in surprise, shaking the hand of the man that appears in front of him. “Natalie! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, we didn’t know you were coming!” Natalie, or what you call her out of respect, Mrs. Fulger, kisses your mother’s cheeks before addressing you. “You’re back from your trip! How was it, darling?”

You deliver a polite smile to the Fulgers, saying how the trip was “absolutely fantastic” and “a truly enriching experience.”

“You must be proud of her.” Mr. Fulger tells your parents, placing his big hand on his son’s shoulder. “Chris will take a gap year after graduating. One last taste of freedom before joining the company.”

The Fulger marriage laughs and your parents join them, and in less than a minute you’re back to being ignored, business taking over the conversation. You awkwardly stand beside your mom until you decide it’s enough.

“I’ll get something to drink.” You excuse yourself. “I’ll be back.”

“Chris will be enchanted to go with you.”

His father pushes him forward slightly. Chris gives you his signature charming smile before saying: “Of course.”

You make your way towards the bar immersed in an awkward silence. Of all people, you had to bump into him.

“Are you liking this party so far?”

“I’m bored to death.”

“Me too.” You tap the bar counter with your long nails, laughing at his honest answer. “How’s life going?”

“Good, it’s good.” He looks around, playing with the glass he’s holding. “I’m in the training process to start working in my father’s company. He wants me to get familiar with the business and its processes before stepping in.”

There’s nothing worse than inheriting a position in a family business, but that’s just your opinion.

“You must be excited.”

“I am, yeah.” Chris nods, taking a sip of his drink. Even if you’re both trying hard to ignore the elephant in the room, Chris gives in first. “Have you talked to Jennifer, by the way?”

“She’s my best friend, Chris.”

He gives you a half-smile, only realizing now how stupid his question must’ve sounded.

“She won’t return my calls or my texts. She has blocked me on every social media, she doesn’t even want to see me! I don’t know where we stand right now.”

You’re not sure of what to answer, afraid you may say the wrong thing. One thing you know, though, is that even if you’ll always be loyal to Jen, you must admit she’s handling this whole thing terribly wrong.

“I’m sure it sucks.”

Chris genuinely laughs for the first time tonight.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh at his irony-filled tone, too, and the atmosphere feels much lighter now. “Relationships are so fucking complicated. Don’t ever get into one.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, taking a sip of the drink the waiter has just served you. “It’s not like there’s a long line of men dying to date me.”

“Now, that’s surprising.”

Much to your delight, he’s too invested in his problem to notice how the blood has rushed to your cheeks.

A certain someone comes to your mind and with him a question you’re dying to ask.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way.” Chris straightens his back, shoving a hand into the pocket of his suit pants, nodding. “Have you and Jen argued due to a… third person?”

It’s just like when people yell at a character to not go into the room where the killer awaits. But it’s just you in the cinema, screaming at yourself to stop talking.

“Of course not! What the fuck?” Chris’ blue eyes open wide in shock as he reaches for his phone. “Did she tell you that? Does she think I’m cheating?”

“No, Chris.” You place a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him from texting Jen, who will murder you if she finds out you have planted a new suspicion in Chris’ mind. “God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. It was just a question! I swear-”

“Hey.”

You aren’t sure if you should celebrate or bury a hole in the floor and hide when Yuta appears out of thin air, his eyes falling on Chris’ arm, where your hand is. You quickly move it away, which is exactly what is needed to make everything look suspicious.

“Hi.” Chris greets, not interested in Yuta’s presence at all. His head is elsewhere now that you’ve completely fucked up. “I’m leaving, I need to call her.”

Chris disappears in the crowd before you have the chance to say goodbye, leaving you behind with Yuta, who raises an eyebrow at you.

“Um, what was that?”

Whatever he’s insinuating offends you terribly. Do you look like the type to steal your best friends’ guys?

“That was nothing.” You snap. “He’s Jen’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“It’s a rough patch, they’ll end up getting back together.”

“Hopefully, they won't.” Your heart drops at his remark, but Yuta’s too busy looking in the direction Chris has disappeared, resting an elbow on the bar. “I hate that guy.”

Chris has always seemed kind and very down to earth. You wonder what could he have possibly done to gain Yuta’s resentment. To that question, you’ve got a theory. And you’d hate being right.

“I think he’s nice.”

“Oh, you think he’s nice?” Yuta snorts at your words. “You don’t know him that well at all, then.”

Yuta glances around the room, which allows you to scan him for a while. He looks really handsome in a suit. He reminds you of those vintage Hollywood stars.

“Why do you hate Chris? Is it because you like Jennifer?”

The question shocks you both. Again, you’re alone in the cinema begging yourself to just shut the fuck up.

“What?” He lets out a laugh of disbelief. “What does Jen have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know...”

“Oh, you do know. What have you seen that made you think that?”

Congratulations! You’ve just dug your own grave.

“Nothing in particular.” You answer, shrugging. “You seem to get along really well, now you hate her boyfriend...”

“First of all, I don’t like Chris because he’s a racist piece of shit. And I get along really well with Johnny, too. Do you think I want to fuck him, too?”

You can feel the color draining from your face.

“I don’t know what you like.”

If there’s something you’ve learned about Yuta, it’s that he’s the straightforward type. He’s unbothered and an expert when it comes to turning around the conversation to make it beneficial for him. He’s something like a mastermind, you’d say.

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You shriek, trying to hide your shaky voice with a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Why then would you ask me about Jen?” Yuta presses, tilting his head to the side. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not! I was just curious!”

“You’re full of shit.” You’d be lying if you said you don’t find his smirk insanely attractive. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind. I would be very glad, actually.”

It’s at this point that your head starts spinning.

You see, you have never been confident. Out of the friend group, you’ve always been the shiest one. You don’t smile in pictures because you think your smile is ugly, and you don’t wear tight clothes because you hate your body.

You have had a single relationship in your life, at sixteen, and it crushed your self-esteem even further. A promise to yourself was made after that: no one would put you through that hell again.

Is that what Yuta is playing at? Making you believe he likes you just to laugh in your face once you take the bait?

He had seemed genuine when he defended you the night you met. Had it just been to give a good first impression?

You hold your purse tight, hold your head high.

“I hope the rest of your night goes well, Yuta.”

And you walk away with your dignity intact.

No reposting or translations allowed.

#yuta smut #nct smut #nct fic #nct yuta #nct yuta smut #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nct yuta angst #nct yuta fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagine

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oscurascout · 2 months

Text

Y/N As A Doorman

From That's Not My Neighbor game

Note - I don't know if there will be any romantic relationship, I really don't want to but maybe I'll change my mind, also you'll notice that I have favorites.

Part 1 (Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10)

While I was driving towards the "Jermaine Middleton Apartments," the place where I would be working as a doorman, it all started an hour ago while I was scrolling through social media. My mother had called me and told me about a friend of hers who was currently searching for a doorman for her apartment. I obviously accepted the job since I had been searching for an easy job, but now that I thought about it, I probably should've considered it a bit more.

I arrived at the location and saw a woman in her mid-30s outside. She looked at my car and walked towards it. I got out and greeted her. She was delighted that I accepted the job and quickly put me to work without explaining anything, writing a contract, or providing any details. She just showed me the office, put on a recording, mentioned my pay would be at the end of every week, and then left.

"What the heck?" I thought as I watched the documentary and realized I was going to have to figure out who was and who wasn't human. "Oh crap, what have I gotten myself into!?" I hadn't thought that being a doorman meant having to identify doppelgangers. "Well, these people might as well say goodbye to their lives because I'm a failure at this type of thing," I thought as I looked around. "No, Y/N, don't think like that. You have a duty now, and that is to protect these people," I thought with determination.

The metal shield then rose up, and I saw a person in a protective yellow suit. They greeted me, provided a bit more information on what I had to do, and then left. "Wow, do they seriously expect anyone to be able to save a whole apartment with just this info?" I thought as I got my area organized, I saw the list of people that were expected to come in. "Okay, I can do this," I thought as I saw someone walk to the front window.

It was a very pretty woman. "Wow, look at how pretty she is. Wait, isn't she one of the twin models that always appear in famous magazines that my friend never fails to mention? Wait, these two also show up in annoying YouTube ads" I thought as I looked at her closely and confirmed that she was one of the twin models. "From how she is wearing an orange dress and round earrings, I think she is Selenne," I thought as I was about to confirm my suspicions, but her annoyed face made me stoped.

Selenne - *annoyed* "Are you going to check my papers or what? You know my time is precious, and right now I need to quickly return to my complex to change, so hurry up."

"Mmm, so it was true about celebrities having a bad attitude," I thought as I started to check her papers. Since I was new to the whole thing, it took me some time, which only made her more annoyed.

Selenne - *tapping her foot* "Ugh, can you hurry up? I'm going to be late, and it'll be your fault."

"If you don't shut up, then I'll take longer," I said as I looked at the ID number.

Selenne - *gasp* "Do you know who I am!?"

"Yeah, a pompous brat who doesn't know how to shut up or prepare on time. Now, zip it, or else I'm going to take longer," I said, already annoyed.

She looked at me angrily, but I couldn't care less. I then confirmed she was the real one, although I had already confirmed that a few minutes ago. I just wanted to annoy her since she was rude. I let her in, and after she left, her twin came. She gave me her papers and started to tap her finger on her arm but didn't say anything. "She probably heard me and her sister arguing," I thought as I looked over her papers. Once I made sure she was the real one, I let her in, and she also gave me one last annoyed glanced.

"Mmm, if I can annoy those famous twins, then maybe this job won't be so bad," I smiled at that thought. I then heard the door to the office open. I looked and saw it was my mom's friend, a.k.a. the landlord. She looked at me and smiled.

Mary - "Please excuse those two; they both have a very strong temper."

"Oh, don't worry; so do I," I said as I smiled at her.

Mary - *smiles* "Well, I just came in to mention a few things that I realized I failed to mention. You won't exactly get a lunch break; you can eat any time, but not like a normal employee. Since you are the only doorman this apartment has, you can't take breaks. Well, you can, but you have to stay in the office at all times in case someone comes. You can walk around, decorate the office however you like, and *takes out a key* you can also use the kitchen that's behind the door with flower decorations, don't worry it has enough food for a week."

I looked at her with an 'Are you serious?' face. "Anything else?" I said with sarcasm.

Mary - "Oh yes, thanks for asking. You will also work from 6 to either 10 or 11 pm, but no pass those hours, oh but don't worry the pay is good. Well, that's all. Goodbye, dear. Remember to work hard and not let those monsters in."

After she finished saying that, she turned around and walked away, leaving me with my 'Are you serious?' face all alone in the office. "I might let those monsters kill me," I said as I only stared at the office exit door.

This is how I imagine the office would be

#that's not my neighbor #selenne sverchzt #elenois sverchzt #Y/N as a doorman #thats not my neighbor #Selenne that's not my neighbor #Elenois that's not my neighbor

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