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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 8 months

Text

Testing One, Two, Three (S.R. Smut +18)

Summary: (Spencer Reid x Fem Reader) Spencer comes home, after a long week of being away, with a bag full of (sexy) surprises.

Content Warnings: Sex toy use, praise kink, dirty talk, mutual self pleasure, coming undone, overstimulation, very light submissive (Reader) dominant (Spencer) dynamics, talk of anal sex & pegging

Word Count: 3.3K

Note: This is one that I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time! And I just had the inspiration to finish it a couple days ago.

Testing One, Two, Three

It wasn’t strange for Spencer to make trips to the grocery store, to the used bookstore, or the pharmacy before making his way back to Y/N’s storybook Tudor home after work.

This evening proved to be not unlike the others. Spencer, driving his powder blue Volvo pulls into Y/N’s driveway. She watches from the windows as he takes out his satchel, his overnight bag, and other large black shopping bags. It didn’t look like it was from the grocery store and their local bookstore didn’t give customers plastic bags. Curious, Y/N unlocks the door for Spencer, deciding to meet him at her front stoop instead of in the kitchen or the hallway like normal.

“Hey there, love,” Spencer says, the nickname brushing off his lips with ease. He looks tired and worn down. Y/N thinks that traveling through two different time zones and not getting enough sleep is a way to do that to a person, but she decides she’ll keep that to herself and just usher Spencer to bed earlier tonight.

“Oh, Spence. I really missed you,” she confesses, breathing in his familiar scent. It's a little different. He smells like cheap hotel shampoo and stale coffee, not like his usual minty and green tea body wash and expensive coffee beans.

Spencer sighs into her neck, swaying slightly as he holds Y/N in his arms on her front stoop. His bags, even the mysterious black on, lay neglected on the ground by their feet.

“I know, Y/N. I know, sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I got you something. Well, really it’s for us. But for you, mostly I suppose,”

“You’re acting clingy and squirrely,” she assesses, leaning back to look at Spencer’s unreadable face. He simply shrugs, as if to say you’ll find out when you find out.

“I need caffeine,” Spencer remarks, as he insists on carrying all the bags into the house by himself, “And something comfy to wear. I’ve been in this shirt for the last two days. There was a break in the case 41 hours in and we couldn’t break for the hotel. It was too out of the way,”

“Oh my poor boy,” Y/N exclaims, helping Spencer shed his cardigan and standing with him as he takes his shoes off, “What about a nice hot shower and then some leftovers. I made chickpea curry last night. We have leftover rice and garlic naan, too,” she offers.

Spencer, offering his thanks, grabs at his tie. His shoulders tense with exhaustion and something unreadable. He’s not usually mysterious. Usually, Spencer’s nothing but an open book.

“You alright?” Y/N asks, doling out the portion of chickpeas and rice on the delicately decorated plates she received for her 25th birthday.

“Fine,” Spencer says, clipped and detached.

So unlike him.

“Hmm. Well how was work? Anything interesting happen?” Y/N asks, attempting to spark conversation with her boyfriend. They’ve only been dating for a solid five months; enough time for whatever it was to have run its course. If Y/N didn’t know any better than she should expect herself to be circling the drain tonight along with dishes that would certainly be neglected for a pint of Java Chip.

“Fine,” Spencer says, nodding thanks for the plate of food. He shovels in a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation.

So unlike him.

Usually, Spencer would be clamoring to talk to her. It wasn’t too long ago that they spent long nights sharing a bottle of red and talking about everything from books to movies to the meaning of life.

“Alright, Spencer. Cut the crap. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are–?”

Shock washes over Spencer’s face. And he doesn’t wear it well. He does a spit take and it’s nearly as foolish as it looks like in movies. Spencer’s eyes grow about three sizes bigger.

“What? Break up with you? God, no,” he stammers, the sentiment clear although his efforts lacked clarity.

“Okay.” Y/N says, tossing Spencer a napkin to mop up his mess of curry and water. “Good to know. But why are you acting so….squirrely?”

Shifting in his seat, Spencer attempts to remain calm. His eyes, a honey brown with a cool brown rim, flit to the mysterious bag he brought in from his car. It was as if she could hear the whirring of the gears clicking into place. She follows his gaze to the bag.

“You bought something. Something that you’re either nervous about or embarrassed? So it can’t be books. And it’s not something innocuous like a throw blanket or pie dish. And judging by your breathing growing heavy, it’s something….salacious.”

Spencer’s thin upper lip twitches with delight. He hums, neither confirming nor denying her claims. His eyes flicker with playfulness, a contrast to moments ago when Spencer’s eyes flooded with fear and shock.

“You’re smart.” Spencer concludes, smiling with knives. He stands to presumably grab the black bag that has caused so much intrigue. “Should have been a profiler with a mind like yours.”

“I’ll stick to what I know.” Y/N tells him, her interest in the bag only growing

when Spencer places it in front of her on the table. “Let me guess, we’re at the stage in our relationship where you can buy me sexy underwear without it looking like you’re sleaze,”

Chortling, Spencer blushes profusely. His feeble attempts at hiding the bag's contents fail miserably as they only pique Y/N’s interest. His eyes are wide with wonder and anticipation in the kitchen light.

“It’s not lingerie.”

“Alright, well whatever it is, Spencer I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re being so jumpy, it’s making me think you’ve got some really kinky sex toy in here,” she says, reaching her hand into the bag to finally examine its contents. She’s good at reading faces. From the old man who reads French Literature on the Metro to the young barista at the local coffee shop, Y/N, like even Spencer admitted, is pretty well versed at reading people. Which is why, for a split second she reads pure terror in Spencer’s eyes.

“Oh shit,” she says, turning the box in her hand and reading the label. “You bought me a wand?” Her voice goes up an octave as if she’s just realizing what she’s holding in her hands.

Spencer, now thoroughly, embarrassed, covers his face with his hand. His cheeks are tinged a lovely pink and he peeks through his fingers, apparently still eager. “Will you kill me if I say that’s not the only thing in there?”

“Spencer Reid!” she shouts, slapping his hands on the table with glee and excitement. It was the very thought of Spencer Reid in a sex shop that sent both shivers down her spine, like an electric shock and shock waves of laughter through her system. “You went into a sex shop.”

“Yes, Y/N,” Spencer contends, his tone playful enough, “But please continue your teasing. We’ll see how cocky you’ll be when you’re on the receiving end of 5000 RPMS. And that’s the lowest setting,”

“Is that a threat?” Y/N asks, leaning in closer to Spencer. Her cleavage is eye level to Spencer’s line of vision. His eyes dart there to the bag and back to her eyes.

He shakes his head. “A promise. Continue,” Spencer instructs, pointing towards the bag. She listens, fishing her hand in the large bag.

“That’s a clitoral stimulator.” Spencer explains, “The website I got recommendations from says that it simulates oral sex. It has eleven settings,” he continues, watching as Y/N’s eyes grow big at the thought of the toy in her hands.

“Hmm, eleven?” she muses, putting it down next to the menacing looking hitachi wand.

“Another one? Spencer, how much money did you spend on toys?” she says aghast as she takes out yet another item from the bag.

“It’s a Lush vibrator.” Spencer explains, waving off Y/N’s concerns for his wallet. “It’s actually connected to my phone. That means I can control it, even when we’re apart. Which, considering how much we’re apart, just might come in handy.”

“This must have cost a lot of money.” Y/N speculates, staring at the three presents facing her on the countertop. “You really didn’t have to. You really shouldn’t–”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, her name sounding deadly in his breathy timber, “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied. And I thought it would be a little fun to bring in some…reinforcements.”

“That’s certainly more forward thinking than my last boyfriend. He was under the assumption that toys stole his thunder. But between you and me, and like every other woman he slept with, it’s probably because he hardly ever made me finish.”

“Really?” Spencer says, looking shocked. “And he was still insecure about bringing toys into the bedroom?”

Laughing, Y/N tosses her head back in a chortle. There was something endearing about Spencer’s genuine shock.

Spencer, looking half bemused and half proud, shifts in his seat. “So are we going to test them out or what?”

Twenty minutes later, they were both in her bed. Y/N, on her back, with her feet planted firmly on the bed, watches as Spencer studies her carefully. Sweat pools in her cleavage and she grabs the sheets, needing something to grip as yet another wave of pleasure washes over her body. He had already coaxed an orgasm out of her with the clitoral stimulator.

Spencer, fully dressed, holds the wand against her. He has a notebook to her left with small scribbles of notes detailing how fast she’s edged with each different toy. His scribbles, messy and disorganized at best, grow increasingly illegible. Spencer’s creases his brow, a sign of his intense determination, and is fuzzy as Y/N gazes down at him. She watches his look of stoic concentration, something that she finds entirely too attractive. But considering he plans on bringing her to climax time and time again tonight, she’ll give into her flights of fancy.

“Think you like this one.” Spencer comments. He switches the wand to his less dominant, but still skillful hand to make notes on the pad. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face, a sign that he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.

“It’s really good.” she says, her voice betraying her already limited resolve. Spencer’s fingers lie casually on her thighs, searing marks into her legs that vaporize her skin. When he touches her it’s like her limb liquifies and her skin melts. She wants his fingerprints to sear into her skin, finally becoming part of her.

“Yeah,” Spencer asks, a sarcastic smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, “Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.”

Spencer’s words are punctuated by the head of the toy rolling against her clit. He never keeps it in one place longer than a couple of seconds, either not wanting to overstimulate her too soon or to keep her on her toes longer for him.

“It feels so…good. Better than it used to. Before I had you,” she stammers, the words clunky in her mouth as she concentrates on Spencer’s deft hand at her core and his warm lips against her neck.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Before you had me to keep you nice and full, you had to use things like this. But I’m gone too often for you. I need to know my sweet girl is taken care of. So we’re going to test all of these toys out tonight. Till you’re drippy little mess, begging for me to finally fuck you.”

Spencer’s sloppy kisses climb the slope of Y/N’s neck. He leaves whisper-wishes into the nooks of her skin, each one filled with promises and love. It’s a stark contrast; the sweet kisses to his hand that holds the vibrator: the bane of her undoing.

“You know Hitachi wands are excellent for clitoral stimulation. This one has only one vibration pattern, but eight different speeds. Now that sounds like a challenge. And one that I’d like to break.”

Y/N’s brow furrows as she gazes at Spencer with a deep concentration. He breathes against her neck, a trail full of wet kisses plotting their revenge against her sensitive skin. Spencer’s fingers hold the wand deftly as he concentrates the sensation against her clit. Y/N’s feet move up the bed, dragging the crocheted blanket with them.

“Holy shit, Spence!” Y/N curses, her breath bated as the wand’s vibrations kick up a couple of levels.

“That’s my girl. You like the fourth setting. Remember that, baby,” Spencer says, his lips curved into a proud smile as Y/N’s hips jut upwards in tandem with the toy, “Just like that, Y/N. I can tell you’re close. Give me another. One’s not enough for my greedy girl. And who am I to deny such a pretty face and a wet pussy. It’s all mine after all.”

She feels the wand leave her clit and venture up to her stomach. Y/N’s muscles react like falling dominos at the sensation. She tenses as the vibrations shoot up and fry her nerves. Spencer licks his lips at the sight of her arousal sticking to her bare torso. He carefully dances the wand up to her nipples, watching with glee as they pebble even further in response to the vibrations.

“One day I’ll give you an orgasm from just playing with these nipples. I’ll lick and kiss and suck on them till you’re dripping and begging for my cock to fill you up.”

“Jesus, Spencer.” Y/N pants, her hips buckling as her climax reached its peak. “Can I come, please? Please let me come again? I need it so fucking bad, baby.” Her tongue peaks out from her lips, wetting the surface as Spencer peered up at her. She grabs his collar to drag him up for a kiss just as she finally teetered off the edge, yet again.

Spencer separates from the kiss, his lips puffy and red from Y/N’s frantic mouth. He smiles, gently caressing her head in a gesture that was entirely too sweet for their current situation. She feels Spencer’s erection in his pants; it had to be almost painful by now.

“What was that two or three?” Y/N asks, a self-satisfied smirk plaguing her face. “I think we might set a record or something.”

“That was two.” Spencer corrects. He takes more notes in his little notebook. “Of at least four or five. Depending on how much you beg later.” He slips off the bed and fishes through the bag. “Now, I think I have an idea for which I’d like to try next.”

A bright pink silicone dildo with a flared based, freshly washed, lays in between them on the bed. Y/N raises her eyes in surprise.

“Most men wouldn’t be too thrilled to have something other than their penis fuck their girlfriends, you know.”

Spencer shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s a lot that we can do with it.” He claims, “Like double penetration or even, uh,” He blushes and stumbles over his next comment, “And pegging.”

Y/N grins as an overwhelming sense of arousal washed over her. “Oh,” she says, skimming her fingers around Spencer’s neck. His skin is ridiculously soft, “we are so tabling that one for later. I would love to see you a mess for me instead.”

Spencer grins. “Fuck, that’s good, Y/N. So good.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna watch you ride it. Like you would my cock.”

Y/N nods, as Spencer shifts on the bed, allowing for her to assume a crouched position. She looks at Spencer, his eyes laden with lust and love. He sits, legs spread in an attempt to accommodate his hardened erection in the old arm chair. He looks too good to be true, his cheeks are tinged with a blush, the dances that line between innocence and corruption. His notebook is forgotten, as he needs the entirety of his attention focused on the sight before him.

“Good girl.” Spencer mutters, his hands resting on his thighs, but they twitch restlessly. It was as if he needs to physically hold himself back from ravishing Y/N at the sight of her crouched on her bed ready to fuck herself with a dildo her purchased for her. “Lower yourself on the toy. Give yourself an inch into your sweet little cunt.”

His voice is deep, yet soft as he guided her pleasure expertly. She groans as the toy breaches her cunt, the full sensation is welcomed after the last hour of the wand and clit stimulator.

“Don’t you wish it was your cock fucking my cunt, Spencer?” Y/N asks, her right hand wrapped around the flared base of the toy and the other holding herself up. Her abdominal muscles stunned with strain as her body remained in a crouched position, but the promise of release goaded her on. “You’re so hard, baby. I can see it from here. Don’t you want to touch yourself?”

Spencer bites his lip. He nods as his hands undo his belt and his hips lift up enough so he can shimmy his pants and underwear to his knees. He wraps a hand around his cock, hard and glistening with arousal, and rubs upward with a tight fist. Spencer’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he continues to watch Y/N lower herself onto the toy.

“Give yourself another inch, sweetheart.” Spencer instructs as he fucked his fist. He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Fuck I wish it was your mouth or your pussy on my dick.”

“God, you have the prettiest cock.” Y/N pants, the toy filling her up more and more as she sinks lower onto the base. “But now that we have this toy, maybe you can fuck my ass? I know you’d like that, baby.”

“Dirty girl,” Spencer praises, a smile covering his face as Y/N’s thighs quiver, “Tell me does that toy fill you up nicely? I had to pick out the best one for my girl.”

“Yes, yes,” Y/N answers, her voice rough and raw, “So good….I feel so full.” The pink dildo filled her cunt.

“Good. Good.” Spencer says, his hand moving up and down his cock at a hastened pace. “Show me how you’ll ride it when I’m not here to fuck you, baby. Show me how you’ll fuck that tight cunt.”

Spencer’s words provide the encouragement for Y/N to hoist herself up and down on the dildo. She would've laid flat on her back, a position that would have been easier on her thighs and core, but the angle she’s able to reach makes the suffering all worth it.

“Fuck…so good, Spencer. But I don’t think I can come from just this…it’s not…it’s not enough for me.” Y/N explains. Spencer knows that. He understands the science behind the female orgasm enough to know that many women are unable to reach climax from vaginal penetration only.

“I know, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.” He promises. “Bring your fingers to your clit

and give yourself some nice tight circles.”

She listens. Her fingers draw tight circles around her clit. Y/N bites her lip as she feels her pleasure build and build. “So good. So good.”

“I know, I know. Grind against the heel of your hand. You go wild when I do that, love. Like a little fucking minx. You can’t get enough.”

The tension builds in her stomach as she grinds against the heel of her hand. Cursing, Spencer watches with lust-laden eyes as Y/N writhes on the bed. Sweat forms against her brow as her feet dig into the mattress and her thighs burn in exhaustion. Until she finally feels that familiar burst of pleasure release.

“Fuck, fuck,” She curses, so caught up in her own pleasure the room seemed to spin around her. “I–I…Spencer, I’m coming.”

Her release washes over her as she slumps down into the bed, finally spent with all her energy expended. She can barely hear Spencer shuffle over, nearly tripping over his feet since his pants remained gathered around his ankles.

“Holy shit.” Spencer curses. “That was the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks at her with half awe and half love. He pulls his underwear back up and kicks his pants off as he sits on the bed. “Are you alright, babe?”

Y/N groans, her cunt is raw with overstimulation and it is like every single nerve in her body is lit on fire in the best way possible. She offers Spencer a weak thumbs up that morphed into an equally weak fist bump. He obliged and gave Y/N a sweet forehead kiss in return.

“So toys are a plus for us,” Spencer muses. He adjusts the pillows on the bed and helps Y/N sit up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it. And I’m, you know, glad you’ll be occupied when I’m gone.”

Y/N’s face flushes as a warmth resembling love covers her entire being. “I should be the one thanking you,” she counters, “Wait…I didn’t get you off.” She says, sitting up and then failing as her tired body gave out.

“That’s a problem you already took care of,” Spencer protests, gesturing to his stained underwear. “I had already come untouched by the time you told me to touch myself. You put on quite the show, sweetheart.”

She raises her eyes in disbelief as Spencer chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I’m glad you found that equally pleasurable. I don't think I’ve ever come as hard as I just did. And I doubt it’ll ever happen again.” She rises from the bed, with the help of Spencer. He grabs her waist as they make their way into her bathroom.

“Is that a challenge?” Spencer says, with a cocky smirk

“Fuck yeah it is,” Y/N said, “but I think I need like three weeks to recover.”

Thank you for reading! Please remember, I appreciate you reading, reflagging, and commenting on all of my fics. I love your feedback and appreciate your support & community more than you'll ever know.

Tag List (I don't want to bother anyone, so just tagging people I mainly interact with)

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @boldlyvoid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

836 notes · View notes

casuallyawkardd · 8 months

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Hi! Can you do a Miguel x f!reader fic where they're dating? It's expensive to live in Nueva York and the reader overworks herself at a thankless job with a pervy boss but she can't find work anywhere else. She doesn't tell Miguel about her bosses advances because she doesn't want him to worry about her but the signs are getting harder to hide.

This request sparks joy, I enjoy all the fluff I've been writing lately, but deep down I'm just an angsty little bean who likes sprinkling trauma into my writing 😇

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Warnings: MATURE THEMES MINORS DNI! Not explicit but noncon so deaddove?, sexual themes, Miguel does a no-no but it's an accident, angst, hurt/comfort

Everything had started out so promising. It was your first 'big girl' job. Well, technically not, but it was your first job in which your degree actually came in handy. It seemed like a dream come true when looking through rose colored glasses. A salary paying job at a respectable company, the annual income promising that you wouldn't have to be living paycheck to paycheck, the days of barely paying rent on time a distant memory.

The first month was the honeymoon phase, your new team being extremely helpful in showing you the ropes and helping you to establish a new routine. After being in a year-long rut, things finally seemed to be going your way. With the new job and a loving boyfriend, what could go wrong?

You didn't notice the red flags right away when you met your boss. In all honesty, he reminded you of Miguel, making you feel at ease around him. Like Miguel, he was tall and well built, tanned skin and dark hair. However, at the same time, the two had their differences. Your boss, though he had his own charms, wasn't as handsome as Miguel; he was also much more jovial than him. Everyone in the office seemed to like him, the young interns and some of the older office ladies gushing over him in secret. At the time, you had even joked that you'd shoot your shot with him if you weren't already in a happy relationship.

It was a gradual change. He had always been friendly with you, hell he was friendly with everyone, going out of his way to make conversation with you and bring you a cup of coffee when he came in in the morning. Then came the touching, his hand lingering longer than they should on your shoulders or resting on the small of your back to guide you closer to him. You thought it was weird, that feeling in your gut telling you something was wrong, but his casual nature and pearly whites would have you second guessing yourself. Maybe you were overthinking things?

Your answer came after a company dinner. It was late and he had offered to walk you home. Miguel was busy with work and the coworkers that were still there were people you didn't know very well, so you took him up on the offer. Everything seemed fine, the two of you walking side by side, keeping up friendly conversation and even sharing a few laughs. When you arrived at your apartment building, turning to say thank you and goodnight, that hand was at your waist once again. Pulling you to him, his head lowering to meet yours and your eyes widened in horror at what was clearly about to happen.

Quickly, you stiff armed him, creating much needed distance, the hand on your back seeming to hold on a little tighter. "I have a boyfriend," you reminded him, a fact you knew he was aware of.

He had just shrugged, "Who says he has to know?" your boss replies in that same, casual tone. When he doesn't see an inkling of humor cross your face, he backpedals, releasing you and holding his hands up in surrender. "Kidding, kidding, have a good night," the asshole tries to laugh it off, retreating back the way he had come. You return to the safety of your building, which doesn't feel as safe as it used to, now that he knew where you lived.

That was around the time your life at work started to go downhill as well. Your coworkers weren't as friendly, whispering behind their hands and throwing dirty looks in your direction. Your boss seemed to become more and more aggressive with his advances. Quite literally backing you into a corner when you're sitting at your desk or in the breakroom. He continuously asked you out, which you resorted to flat out telling him 'no' after multiple attempts of being polite about it. Everytime you reject him, it felt like he expected you to work later or show up earlier, scolding you when you don't comply.

It felt like it's you against the company. The work losing its enjoyment and the people who you thought were your friends now the bane of your existence. Why was this happening? What had you done wrong?

"Why don't you talk to HR?" your best friend suggests one night while you're venting.

"I did about some people, the ones who were real nasty at least," you reply with a heavy sigh, "but it feels like it's everyone. And my boss?" you groan woefully, "I get the feeling he'd just fire HR if they said someone reported him."

The frown on your friend's face deepens, a look of pity in their eye. "Well, what about your boyfriend? Does he know?"

You don't respond right away, pursing your lips a moment, "No, he doesn't."

"You should tell him!" your friend snaps at you, lightly slapping your shoulder, "He's scary right? I bet your boss would think twice about looking your way if he got his ass kicked."

"Yeah, maybe..." you don't doubt it. There had been times when you had thought about it, maybe even fantasized about Miguel showing up at your work and pummeling your boss in his stupid, charming face; and yet you haven't breathed a word about it to your other half. But, you already know why you haven't.

When Miguel and you had first started dating, he had been closed off. Understandably so, given the brief background he had told you about himself, it didn't surprise you that he had a hard time trusting people. Then one day, there was a shift, as if a switch had been flipped. He was happier around you, more affectionate. A soft smile on his face whenever you caught him staring at you, a gentle chuckle even if you weren't trying to be funny.

"Is everything...okay?" you ask him one night, the two of you lying in bed. Miguel has his head on your chest, a large arm lazily slung over your middle while you absentmindedly played with his hair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he responds, lifting his head enough to glance up at you.

"You're just...different."

"Is it a good different?"

You smile at his change in expression. How he reminds you of a child worried they had done something wrong. "Yeah, it is good," you agree, bringing his face closer to kiss the spot between his brows. When you pull back, he moves closer. Shifting so he's above you, lips searching for yours. When they connect, it's electric. A buzz promising what's to come.

He pulls away enough to speak, "Works been a pain," he confesses, "between my duties as Spider-Man and maintaining the peace with the other universes, I can't seem to catch a break," there's a hint of annoyance in how he speaks that seems to grow the longer he thinks about it, but he catches himself. Taking a deep breath through his nose and letting out the same way, "But it's different with you. I feel like I can finally be at ease with you."

And there it is. The reason you've kept your mouth shut for months. The preservation of the little bubble Miguel and you have created. You were finally his safe space, someone he could relax around. Someone to provide a much needed calm to his already hectic life. It was something you had found in him months ago, but now the feeling was mutual, and you didn't want to ruin it.

It's not that bad, you told yourself, I can handle myself. That's what you tell yourself, after every lingering look from your boss and every snide comment your other coworkers give you. Miguel always said you were tough, joking that you'd have to be to date someone like him.

You didn't feel so tough tonight.

Work had been hard, with deadlines just around the corner, everyone was on edge. A little more venom behind their biting words, but that's not what led you to where you were now. Standing outside your apartment door, trembling as you fiddle with your keys and trying to hold back the tears until you were safely inside.

It was that asshole boss of yours again, only this time he had gone too far. Well, tried to at least. You had already come to terms with the fact he'd make you stay later than everyone else, working until the streetlights flicked on and even a little after. He had come over to your desk as you were putting your things in your bag, half paying attention to what he was saying. You were tired, ready to call it for the day, ready to go home and rest and-

Strong arms wrapped around you, making you stiffen in fear as what occurred a little over an hour ago replays in your head. The smell of takeout from your favorite Thai place brings you back and you're able to breathe a sigh of relief when you hear a familiar chuckle fill the air.

"Did I scare you, amor?" Miguel teases, releasing you and coming to stand at your side.

You crane your neck to look up at him, the look of fear now dissipated to one of surprise, "I thought we agreed to reschedule?" You had. While taking the train, clearly still shaken as you struggled to text him that your date would have to be another night. 'Had a rough day at work,' was your excuse. It wasn't a lie, just the truth with a few crucial details plucked out.

Miguel shrugged, taking your keys from your hand so he could pick out the right one for the front door. "I know," he explained, twisting the lock, "but I figured we could have a night in. Some takeout, maybe some episodes of that show you like-oh, baby you ripped your skirt," the small smile on his face drops as he spots the said rip, calloused fingers pinching the fabric before letting it go and heading inside the apartment.

It's your turn to look down at it, the urge to cry only growing at the sight, thinking it must have been torn by the metal desk in your struggles. This was your favorite skirt, Miguel's too from how he couldn't keep his hands off you when you wore it. You had planned on meeting up for your date right after work, so you had decided to wear your date night outfit to the office to save yourself a trip. It seemed like a harmless idea at first, but it turns out Miguel wasn't the only one who noticed you wearing it.

You followed at a slower pace, shutting and locking the door behind you. Including the deadbolt, something you did on occasion when you felt like you needed it. With a heavy sigh, you perked up as best you could and went to the living room; Miguel was already there on the couch waiting.

The evening went just as Miguel had suggested, your new show had a couple new episodes for you to catch up on, all while nibbling on the greasy food your partner had brought over. Under different circumstances, you would have considered tonight to be a perfect night in. A part of you felt bad, curled up on the opposite end of the couch from Miguel. Your appetite wasn't all there, only eating some of the steamed vegetables at the top of the box before setting it on the coffee table. Miguel had taken notice, of course he did, but as to why you were acting so strange he had no clue.

"Just been a long day," was all you said, forcing a smile to which he returned. When you had run out of episodes, you stood to take the leftovers to the fridge. Falling into routine gave you a sense of security, moving to start your evening chores next. Miguel called out, asking if you wanted help, but you turned him down. Wanting some time alone.

It turned out to be both a good thing and a bad one as well. The good being you were finally able to decompress, have some time to yourself where you didn't have to pretend to be okay. However, that meant you were left alone with your thoughts. The only ones in your head being about your boss. What he did...or rather tried to do.

You felt stuck, not sure if speaking up would make things worse. Your coworkers already hated you, talking bad about your 'perfect' boss would probably only make things worse. How could he even do that? To think you used to compare him to Miguel of all people. Miguel would never make you feel the way he did. Embarrass you, degrade you, hurt you-

The clinking of dishes brought you back to yourself, looking down at your shaking hands. You picked up the glass you had dropped in the sink, finishing up the last of the dishes and putting them aside to dry. Once done, you leaned against the counter, hands pressed into the hard edge of it. You blinked back the tears, trying to shake the dark thoughts from your mind. You weren't gonna cry, not again, not because of him.

"It feels like you've been in here forever, cariño," Miguel's baritone purrs in your ear out of the blue, a sort of warning as his arms wrap themselves around you again. And yet you still jumped, Miguel chuckling against your ear. "You're so jumpy tonight," he hummed, "I think you're letting work stress you out too much." Well that was an understatement.

"You're not one to talk," you reply, a bit more bite to your tone than intended, but Miguel seems too distracted to notice.

"Hmm, I think we both are due for some destressing," he murmured, fingers gliding your hair aside to plant some gentle kisses along your neck. It was a familiar dance with him, his lips trailing across your skin while his hands roamed elsewhere, alluding to what was to come. Normally, it was something you'd eagerly lean into, but today had been far from normal.

"Honey..." you tell him softly, trying to nudge him back with your shoulders, but it only seemed to make him want to be closer.

"Shh, I'll take care of you, mi amor," he soothed, planting a kiss on your cheek before coming down to resume nipping at your jawline.

"Miguel, come on," you tried to laugh it off, tried to keep your cool, but the tremor in your hands seemed to only worsen. It wasn't him, your feelings right now weren't because of him, but every touch brought you back to the office. Just tell him, the thought crosses your mind, but the stubborn part of you holds your tongue. Miguel hadn't done anything out of your usual comfort zone, even now he probably assumed you were playing coy like usual, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Why did he have to feel just like him? Firm body on your back pressing you into a hard surface, lips ghosting over your neck, teeth teasingly biting at the flesh, one hand untucking your shirt and sliding underneath the fabric to grope at your breast, the other hand gliding up your thigh, palming you from behind before migrating to the front, fingers inches closer to your center...

"Miguel, stop!" your mouth moves of its own accord. Adrenaline gives you the strength to push him back, the kitchen becoming almost deadly quiet. Your eyes are locked on the tile floor, not looking him in the eye. You couldn't look him in the eye, the thought alone of what face he was making causing your chest to tighten. The confusion, surprise, maybe even heartbreak.

The silence is broken as a sob rips from your throat, your hands covering your mouth to quiet the ones that follow. The tears are flowing freely now, wetting your cheeks and softly landing on the ground. "I...I'm sorry," Miguel's voice sounds so far away. "I didn't..I thought-"

"You didn't do anything," you speak and he goes quiet immediately. He's patient, waiting for you to continue. It's almost like an out of body experience, you lashing out seeming to open the flood gates. You tell him everything, how things at work had been going downhill for months after your boss tried to kiss you, your asshole coworkers turning on you and your even bigger asshole of a boss not taking no for an answer. The expectations of working longer hours than you were paid for. The stress, the frustration, the feeling of preservation so as not to ruin the dynamic you two had created. Your gibberish eventually leading into what had happened earlier that night.

"...I had to stay late, a-and my boss said he needed to talk and-and-"

"What did he do?" Miguel interjects and your mouth clamps shut. Tongue feeling too big to even get the words out, "Mi amor, look at me," he doesn't demand it, he pleads, the unexpectedness of it making you look up. When your eyes meet, something seems to click for him, realization flickering in his eyes. There's anger, the kind you never would want directed at you, but then they soften. As if realizing the fury he wanted to unleash wasn't meant for you. Never for you. "Y/N..."

"Don't touch me," you snap at him, regretting it immediately after. Miguel had only taken half a step, but stopped immediately at your command. It hurt him and you could tell, wanting to hold you and comfort you, but unable to. Not when his touch made the memories all the more fresh.

"Ay dios mío..." he mutters, hands going to his hips as he doesn't know what to do with them now. The kitchen goes quiet again, aside from your small sobs. Miguel sets his jaw, something he does when he has something to say, but doesn't know how to. "Did he..?"

"Miguel, please-"

"I know, amor, I know. I don't want to make you talk about it if you're not ready to, but-" he pauses, lips pressed in a fine line, pain etched into his expression. "I just-I have to know. The thought of you getting hurt and I wasn't there to stop it..baby please, for me. I feel like I'm being eaten up from the inside."

You believe him, every word. He was used to being the one to save the day, you couldn't imagine how he felt knowing he wasn't there for who he cared for most. You let out a deep breath to calm down, "No, he didn't," you answer and you can almost see the tension leave his body. At least some of it.

"What do you need? Anything. Let me help you, don't shut me out, please...You've been there for me when I needed you, please let me be there for you, please?" he almost tries to step closer to you, stopping himself like it's the hardest thing he's ever done.

You bite your lip in thought, contemplating what to suggest. Not just for you, but him as well. Miguel was always the one who knew what to do, so the feeling of being unsure was clearly foreign to him. "Honestly, I just want to take a bath."

"A bath? I can do that. Just..give me a minute," he's scrambling, it's a side of him you'd never seen. Miguel shuffling as he remembers how to move, practically running to the bathroom with unnecessary vigor, hissing out some Spanish curses when he clips himself in the side with the island counter. His eagerness has you laughing softly, momentary joy fluttering through you before the weight of your evening sets back in.

The sound of the tub filling, along with the sound of Miguel moving about the bathroom is endearing, the man himself returning to you quickly to let you know it was ready. The set up alone is a comforting sight, the scent of lavender coming from the water, one of your incense candles gently burning. The mirror was fogged up, letting you know that the water was just the right temperature. It was all so simple and yet just what you needed.

Miguel waits beside you with bated breath, the small smile you give him a sign of reassurance. He offers to wait in the living room, hoping you don't send him away to be alone like you had originally intended when you got home, but you stop him.

"I don't want to be alone."

It's contradictory, but he doesn't question it. Doesn't even furrow his brow in confusion like he usually would. The two of you don't speak, Miguel sitting on the floor, back resting against the side of the tub, all while you undress and slip into the welcoming water. You let out an audible sigh of relief, letting the suds surround you as you lie back. After a moment, you glance Miguel's way, seeing that his eyes are glued to the far wall. He's trying to be respectful, you acknowledge, trying to be there for you while also not making you feel even more uncomfortable.

His presence alone is a comfort, the image of an overprotective guard dog making you smile once more. It's a moment filled with comfortable silence, the kind you only ever seemed to find with him. You almost don't want it to end, but the cooling of the water and the pruning on your fingertips lets you know it's time to get out.

"Hey," you say, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and making him jerk slightly in surprise. He looks over at you expectantly, eyes averting to the side so he doesn't seem like he's staring. "I think calling it early for the night would be good. Put this shitty day behind me."

"Yeah, I agree," he nods slowly, getting to his feet and heading to the door. "I put some clothes on the counter for you, I'll give you some privacy," he points to the said folded clothes, your gaze following his finger.

"Thanks," you smiled at him and he hummed in response. Miguel was being distant, but you knew the intent was to be for your benefit. Give you the space you had asked for earlier and being there when requested. "I'll meet you in the bedroom." It's more of a way to clarify than anything, you were sure Miguel had already resolved to sleeping on the couch tonight. His wariness seems to lessen, stepping a little lighter as he leaves the bathroom.

You take your time with draining the tub, drying off with a towel and slipping into your pajamas. They're comfortable, baggy and soft on your skin. You fall back into your nightly routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face and even popping a melatonin gummy in your mouth just in case.

Miguel is sitting stiffly in your bed, propped up, under the covers and hands folded together in his lap. It's almost comical, how he looks like a teenage boy awaiting the moment he finally loses his V card, but you don't dare tease him about it. Not when he's been so understanding all evening.

Sliding in beside him, you scoot until your thigh touches his, "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," you tell him, not sure what else to say.

He doesn't miss a beat, "You have nothing to be sorry for, cariño," he reassures you with ease, hesitantly placing a hand on your thigh over the sheets. When you don't flinch away, he gives it a comforting squeeze. "What're you thinking right now? I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours," he attempts to lighten the mood, something you also appreciate.

You scoff, rolling your eyes tiredly, "I don't even know anymore. Everything feels so unreal," you run a hand through your hair, sighing. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. What I'm going to do now, how I'm going to even face him, what's gonna happen at work..."

"Don't worry about that right now," he interjects, "let's just go to bed, like you wanted to. Do you...want me to hold you?"

You nod, Miguel kissing your hairline as the two of you silently adjust until you're in your usual sleeping positions. Miguel on his back, while you slept on your side with one arm and one leg draped over him. One of his arms wrapped under you, a hand resting on your lower back so his thumb could trace small circles into the muscles there. As your body relaxed into his, fitting against his side like it was meant to be there, you felt at peace. At home even.

The firmness of him against your side didn't seem to trigger your traumas anymore, the idea that Miguel and your boss were similar now a distant memory. The fact you had thought of them as so alike seemed silly now. Your boss may be tall, tanned and well built like Miguel, but he wasn't warm like him. His hands had been cold when they violated you, something Miguel's never were. The kind of warmth that seemed to make everything else go away, even if for a moment. The kind that made you feel safe and loved, everything you needed and more. When you needed it most.

Tags: @prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @qiaipia @melovetitties @thedevax @erissco @leo-lvr@stqrlightrs

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #anon ask #lovely anons

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raineandsky · 18 days

Text

#116

As of yesterday, the worst pain the prince had experienced was when he accidentally nicked his finger with his father’s sword three years ago.

Today, that has been replaced with the red-hot agony of a bear trap snapping shut on his leg.

It wasn’t meant to go like this. Get to the city borders and disappear into the wilderness—that was the plan. It’d seemed such a good plan too, from the comfort of his bedroom. Easy.

Yet here he is, thrown to the floor by merciless, metal teeth. It’s more blood than he’s ever seen in his life. He’s starting to feel faint, though whether that’s the sight of his own mangled leg or the pain jolting through him at the slightest move is unclear.

Darkness is throwing a blanket over the sky. Forcing the trap open has proven fruitless, dragging himself back to the road impossible. Every fibre of him, down to his very soul, is crying to rest, to ease the pain, to just have stayed in his ivory tower prison like he always had.

Something yellow—a light!—ripples through the trees. The prince thinks, for a rather depressing moment, that heaven might be approaching, and the warden has arrived to drag him into death. It would explain why he can’t feel his hands.

“Huh,” says the warden, “that ain’t an animal.”

The light is blinding now, the person behind it haloed invisibly in its spray. The prince can see them turn, kind of, to a figure next to them.

“Well, no.” A gruff laugh. “That’s very much a human person.”

The light lowers slightly, enough to get a glimpse at the people hiding in its shadow. Oh—not the warden. A common woman, in fact, her and an equally common man, staring down at him with varying amounts of surprise and annoyance.

“Hm,” the woman says again, thoughtful. “Looks expensive. D’ya think we’d get much for him?”

The prince’s stomach does some acrobatic somersault that almost makes him throw up. He tries to move, crawl away, anything, but the trap sinks its teeth into his flesh even more, like it's trying to stop him escaping. A cry falls from his mouth, some incoherent mix of terror and agony.

One of them says something, but he can’t hear it. He can’t hear anything; blood rushes in his ears—it’s a miracle he has any left to do such—his breathing hard and laced with irrepressible noises of his own suffering.

Another laugh as the man steps forward and back into hearing range. “We should probably make sure he ain’t from one of those places that’ll lob our heads off for the crime of looking at ‘im first.”

“He looks like one of ‘em, don’t he?” The woman steps too close. The prince scrambles without thinking, and gets the treat of the teeth gnawing harder into his leg. “Let’s get ‘im home, at least. Get the trap, Skat, and I’ll get the bag ready for it.”

“Skat?” The name rolls off his tongue so easily. Both of the commoners stare at him like they’re startled he can speak at all. “You– you were in the royal guard. I recognise your name.”

The man’s stare has turned to a hard glare in an instant. “Where’d you get that from?”

The prince attempts a smile, but the burning pain ripping through him makes it difficult. “You were one of the top knights in your guild. I– I came down, sometimes, to watch you practise. My father adored you. I adored you.”

“You’re the boy prince?” It comes out almost immediately. A connection made. A recognition. The prince could laugh with relief if he weren’t already crying. He nods quickly. “Wh–What’re you doing out here?”

The woman snorts behind him. “Sounds like a fat sack of cash,” she mumbles.

The man ignores her. “Don’t answer that; it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, huh?”

“Are you serious?” The woman scoffs as the man sets his gaze on the bear trap. “We’ve stumbled across our biggest catch yet, and we’re just throwing it away? We could be absolutely minted off him and you want me to just send him on his merry way?”

“Well, Gvette,” the man says flatly, “do you really think anyone’s gonna wanna buy something that looks like it’s been dragged through ten inches of mud?”

That gives her enough pause for Skat to don a smug grin and shoot a quick wink to the prince. “Open the trap, will ya?” he adds.

It isn’t gentle. The woman—Gvette, the prince assumes—rips the trap open and lets its barbed teeth tear through any part of his skin they haven’t already. Skat holds him, almost vice-like, as he squirms and cries against Gvette's heartless freeing of his leg. He can’t help but bury his face into the man’s shoulder when Gvette first wrenches it apart.

Skat grabs his hands to try and help up to his feet. The prince shivers at nothing. “Am—” His voice catches when he puts a little too much weight on his leg. “Am I dead?”

“Well, I ain’t one for talkin’ to spirits,” Skat says brightly, “so I’d assume not.”

“I can’t feel my hands.”

There’s a pause that’s a little too thick. “You’re cold, kiddo. You’ve been lying in an inch of wet mud.”

Gvette takes the prince’s arm, rather reluctantly, as Skat pulls a blanket from his bag. He swings it open and onto the prince’s shoulders in one easy move. “A’ight,” he says as he ushers Gvette away to retake his spot at this side. “Let’s get you warmed up and into some new clothes, maybe.”

So we can get you home hangs unsaid in the air. That, or so we can see how much people are willing to pay for you.

Neither of those are an option.

They might want his leg healed before they try anything. That would give him time, and it’d certainly give him a means of escape.

The prince clings to the old knight, with no other choice, and prays that the man’s warmth to him is true.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #fantasy writing #fantasci writing #whump #hurt/comfort #is it comfort if youre not sure its genuine? it is now #lmao so i handed in my notice and now both my bosses are really pissy and short with me #hey man. if yall didnt want me to leave then you shouldnt have fucked me over. what did you think would happen

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lebenspurpur · 1 year

Note

Headcanons for slashers (whoever you want) finding their s/o smoking cigarettes after hiding it?

Only if you're comfortable of course, thank you :)

AN: I've added my personal thoughts whether they can roll a ciggy or not because it's hilarious.

RZ Michael Myers

Oh, he does not care. Not even for the fact that you tried to hide it.

Michael grew up in the 90s, I am pretty sure he is used to smoking.

He will however steal your cigarettes now. Not because they're bad for you, no, he just wants to smoke too.

It will be a nice little habit, though, smoking together. Gives you an excuse to cuddle into him for warmth while you're standing outside.

Michael can not roll a cigarette for the life of him, and you can't convince me otherwise. Either he rips the paper or he loses the filter. And they always look tortured.

Cig rolling ability: 1/10

(He gets one point because at least he knows how it works in theory.)

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn't bothered by the smoking. What worries him a little is the fact that you tried to hide it.

He tries to assure you that he doesn't mind, in order to hopefully ease your anxieties. After all, he's got a smoking brother already. You won't be much of a bother.

Vincent can roll a cigarette.

Come on, tell me someone with hands as deft as his can't roll a cigarette (Wow, I should stop talking about his hands).

Plus, I think he smoked in his youth as well.

Cig rolling ability: 9/10 (I'm subtracting one point because I refuse to believe he's this good at everything.)

Bo Sinclair

Bo is a smoker. And he'll find it absolutely hilarious that you tried to hide your habit from him.

He will never stop his teasing.

Now that he knows that you share his preference, he can pull so many moves. Bo's the type of guy to light your cigarettes as a flirting method.

He thinks it's hot, you think it's a little ridiculous.

Bo can roll a cigarette, but he applies too much pressure. They look a little squished sometimes.

Cig rolling ability: 7/10

Lester Sinclair

Don't we see Lester smoke in the movie?

I went into heavy research and yes we see him smoke in the movie. IN THE TRUCK, to be exact, which is a crime.

So yes, Lester is a smoker too.

He won't take it too hard that you hid your habit from him, but he still reassures you that he doesn't mind.

He likes smoking with you, in fact.

Please stop him from smoking in the car.

Lester can roll a decent cigarette. Sure, sometimes they lack good structure, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm.

He is the type of lover that will pre-roll cigarettes for you, and it's super sweet.

Cig rolling ability: 7.5/10

Brahms Heelshire

YOU DID WHAT??

I fully believe Brahms has never taken any drug in his life, ever. All his life was spent in the walls, and while his parents seem like expensive whiskey drinkers, he has probably never tried it.

So he's shocked to see his own significant other smoke.

"Don't you know that this can kill you, Y/N?"

He will forbid you to smoke, because he is a little shit brat.

However, he won't really do anything but sulk when you continue your custom. And after a while he gets used to it.

Brahms obviously doesn't know how to roll a cigarette. Not even in theory.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is surprised to see you smoking, but he doesn't mind all that much.

You're your own person, and you've got your habits.

In addition to that, he thinks it's kinda hot.

Thomas has never smoked and probably never will, but if you let him, he will try.

(I tend to think Thomas is a pretty curious, and rather experimental guy because he was denied so many things in the past. Therefor, he tries to catch up with the stuff he missed.)

Nonetheless, he does not like it.

Even so, Tommy will join you when you catch a smoke break, mostly because he wants to keep you company.

Thomas would be capable of rolling a ciggy, if he ever actually tried. I mean, come on, he sews as a hobby, and you got to have pretty skillful hands for that, too.

Cig rolling ability: 2/10

(He's only this low because he never actually tried to roll one.)

Jason Voorhees

Uh oh.

He's not a fan.

Jason will try to make you stop, most likely by finding an alternative that's actually healthy.

If it doesn't work, he'll accept it, but not without a weekly complaint.

Jason would rather die than touch tobacco. He can not roll a cigarette.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Otis Driftwood

Otis is also heavily entertained by the idea that you hid this from him.

Except from that amusement, you won't get much of a reaction, though. Otis smokes himself, why would he care if you do?

(I don't actually remember if we ever see Otis smoke, but come on, look at him and tell me this isn't canon.)

Otis can technically roll a cigarette, but they always look horrible. They're very... sloppy.

I also feel like he's the type of guy to smoke rolled cigarettes without a filter.

Cig rolling ability: 3/10

Baby Firefly

I feel like Baby is more drawn to vapes than cigarettes, mostly because those can taste sweet.

She probably owns a pink vape, and her favorite flavor is probably something like strawberry or strawberry cheesecake.

Nonetheless, she doesn't care if you smoke. And she will scold you a little for hiding this from her. Partners are supposed to trust each other, after all.

Baby can roll a cigarette, but it will fall apart in seconds.

Cig rolling ability: 2/10

Josef

Josef is a bit on the wine aunt trip, so he's opposed to everything that goes against his usual diet (smoothies, wok pans and dry red wine, ah and occasionally some dark chocolate).

Therefore, he won't appreciate the cancer sticks, but he'll stick up with them because he likes you.

Sporadically, he'll steal a hit, but that's usually when he's tipsy.

If you ask him if he can roll a cigarette, he'll say yes, but that is a fat lie.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Amanda Young

Amanda is torn between amusement and worry when she finds out about your mannerism.

She doesn't necessarily mind cigarettes, but her strong history with drugs influences her opinion a little.

Though, as long as your smoking habit stays reasonable, she won't acknowledge it that much.

Amanda can roll a pretty neat cigarette on a good day, and she will roll for you if you ask her to.

Though, sometimes her hands shake too much to hold the paper properly, and then they all look horrible.

Cig rolling ability: 6.5/10

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luvring · 2 years

Text

(20 minutes earlier)

「8:57 p.m.」

“fuckin’ told you we’d get free dessert,” rin manages to say while putting another forkful of cake in his mouth. “and tears, and clapping.”

you scoff and shove his shoulder, “yeah, okay mr. too-good-to-be-true reddit post. sorry i never took you for a romantic.”

“really? even as we sit here and eat the best cake of your life?”

“we’re sitting on a curb in a parking lot, rin.”

“by choice, mind you.”

the amount of people who came over to congratulate the both of you had easily become overwhelming, especially when they started asking questions you couldn’t answer. “did you have your first date here?” “is it your anniversary?” “so when are you guys gonna get married?”

luckily, rin was able to ease his way out of the situation, explaining that the newly weds needed to go home to get some rest. he ended up driving a couple of blocks over to sit in an empty parking lot, the sunset near and the weather perfect. it was all a blur for you, really. if you didn’t think hard enough, you could say this really was a perfect way to end the day after an engagement.

“hey rin?” he hums in response and you continue, “was all of that stuff true? besides the romantic embellishments, i mean.”

“yeah,” he replies easily. “of course it was.”

when you look over at him, rin meets your gaze. his lips twitch as if he wanted smile before taking another bite of cake, “why are you looking at me like i said something unbelievable?”

“i don’t know! i just…you’ve never been very expressive about…anything like that.”

“mhm. that’s why i planned my script out. lies are easier with truths sprinkled in.”

“so me being in your best memories—”

“true.”

“having a hidden folder of us?”

“also true,” he replies. “and no you can’t see it,” he adds on with no hesitation. you pout but accept it, knowing that your own is still a secret for now. instead, you continue, “me being your best friend and you loving me?”

rin breathes out a laugh and rolls his eyes before responding, “despite what you might think, still very true.”

“uh huh,” you teasingly doubt. “then, wanting to be my fiance?”

you’re met with an unexpected beat of silence and you falter. rin’s smile disappears, but the soft look on his eyes doesn’t as he looks off at the parking lot. his voice is quiet when he finally answers, “true.”

“...what?”

at that, he barks out a laugh as he pushes his dessert aside to lean back on his hands, “i seriously just dragged you into an expensive, fancy ass restaurant under the guise of wanting a slice of free cake when we could have bought our favourite meals for less and you’re still shocked?”

he watches the expression on your face change as you flounder to find something to say. “you don’t have to feel pressured to like me back or anything. seriously, i just—” he takes a breath and smiles up at the clouds, a little in self-pity and not ready to look at you yet, “i needed to say it at some point so i thought i might as well go all in, y’know?”

a silence comes over the both of you. you think it should be awkward—you should want to curl into a ball and disappear. but you don’t. somehow, even now, rintarou manages to make you feel comfortable with everything going on, and the silence is just…understandable, almost comforting. rin is picking at the grass patch next to him when you look over, as if nothing had changed by his confession. but it didn’t sit right with you, and your gut twists at the thought of nothing changing in the way that mattered.

“well,” you say and wait for rin to look at you. he pauses and drops the grass in his fingers before tilting his head at you. “i think getting engaged skips a few steps but, um,” you clear your throat. rin’s heart is in his own throat as he watches you struggle a little to get up from your spot and onto one knee. “what are you—”

“i have my own folder of photos of us,” you blurt out. he blinks and your face is heating up but it’s too late to stop now. “i, uh, made it the first time we had to work on a project together, and we just ended up getting food and watching a new show. the first photo is you asleep with the weighted blanket.”

“and, i just, you—god i wish i had my own script,” you groan. rin snorts a little but stays quiet, knowing to let you take your time—there’d be time to tease you later anyway.

you bite your lip and try to figure out your words before continuing softly, “you mean a lot to me, rin. i seriously don’t know where i’d be if i didn’t know you and have you next to me for all these years. and i love you."

“so to my best friend,” you say, despite the heat you feel on your face and your heart pounding harder than ever before. “and the only person i’d let fake propose to me at a fancy ass restaurant just for a slice of cake”—you slide the ring off your own finger and hold it towards him—”will you be my boyfriend?”

the both of you stare and wonder if the other notices how the sunset has started—hues of pink, purple, and orange tinting the sky above you. and it’s only 20 minutes after you've become fiancés when rin shoots up with a grin, grabbing you closer to hold your face. you yelp as his hands cup your cheeks and his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. it’s 20 minutes after his own fake proposal that finally, finally, rintarou gets to kiss you for the first time. and it’s been 21 minutes, you guess, when he pulls back with a smile and answers, “i will.”

note from nia: hello. miau. suna lovers where r u. i don't think i need a part 3 for this so that's awesome. welcome to ur suna rintarou boyfriend/fiance arc!

join the taglist! :)

🏷️ couldn't tag | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @missyasma @thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm

interaction & rbs appreciated \o/

#haikyuu #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff

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gojobabygirly · 8 months

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﹙HIS OBSESSION﹚

Chapter 01.

"Your father is scum."

"I'm sick of this situation."

"Life is shit, we share the same silliness and shit here. Cheer up girl."

"How the hell can I cheer up?!." You snorted, rolled your eyes away from your two friends who were sitting across from you on the couches, trying to hold back your laments that threatened to fall on your face.

"Yo babe, are you okay?" The other, with light brown hair, demanded as she leaned forward to place her hand on the thigh of the girl who turned her face to the side, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Y/N... what's wrong with you?." The girl with the dark brown short hair stopped sipping the liquid from her glass cup with furrowed eyebrows.

"My dad brings his bitches day and night he throws them at me and I have to serve his shit all day, he doesn't even give me my money to buy what I want!" You spat angrily.

"Things got worse." You muttered in a shaky voice, letting your tears run down your cheeks, wrinkling your eyebrows.

The white-haired man pulled the glass door back, and his four colleagues came in behind him. To his right walks a man with a huge muscular build, his azure eyes scanning the place.

Sukuna pulled back his pink hair with his tattooed hand, and raised his red eyes to the ceiling to see the multi-colored chandeliers changing every second, comfortable leather larks and boxes of fine alcohol spread out on the huge table in the suite they had booked. place considered him.

They were advancing, but what stopped them was a soft weeping voice with intermittent gasps of a girl, while the two of them quietly muttered to her perfectly fine.

"There is no other solution than this, y/n I know it's hard for you but-"

"What's wrong with your mother's family, your grandmother, who doesn't want you anymore?" They heard another girl's voice, followed by a sniff and another shaky gasp.

"They don't want me! My grandmother only takes care of her filthy pocket, it should be filled with money for life, she told me I'm dependent on her and she can't stand me being in the house, I'm not a grown woman just because I don't cook or serve them all day!.

I can't believe my mother's death ruined my life! Only to this degree because my mother's salary is over, everyone drops his masks, it turns out that all that love is only for my mother's money, sons of a bitch." With a soft voice spitting in anger and pain at the same time, satoru stepped forward to see the three girls' suite next to them.

He uninterestedly moved forward to take his seat on the sofa and leaned back, crossing his muscular arms in front of his broad chest, listening carefully, wondering why he cared about the misery and problems of others, but the voice that attracted him to listen was curious.

He saw a group of his companions spread out on the sofas that formed a circle separated by a large glass table in the middle.

He waved his hand to suguru adjacent suite and the girls' voice, huh? He seems interested, too.

"I don't know now what to do, even part-time jobs are not enough for my expenses." You sigh, raise your hand to carefully wipe your tears from your face.

"There is only one solution and it will bring you money simply and as much as you want." The brown-haired woman stammered, placing her glass on the table and pulling a cigarette from the middle tray of the table in front of you three.

"That's why I'm gay guys! Men are the worst creatures in existence." Lily added after sighing with a laugh.

"Guys, shit, girly would only get pain if she did that." The other beside her muttered, letting out a sigh.

You were playing with your fingers in your lap and staring, your mind was clouded with thoughts, today is your last day in a house because you got kicked out and no one wants you to stay in their house.

"Doll, you look beautiful when you cry." Lily added while pricking your nose with her forefinger, trying to ease your sadness.

"Lily ,Jia, I don't know what to do." You felt your eyes getting wet again, covering your face with your palms, your body feeling cold and numb from crying for days.

The two frowned, trying to calm you from crying for the third time in this place.

"Stop complaining y/n, don't be a crybaby." Jia sighed as her cigarette smoked out of her mouth and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm not a crybaby! Damn it, I'm in great misery and you're here making fun of me?,Where am I going tomorrow?,I got kicked out!." You exploded, taking your hands off your face, staring at her with a reddish face from crying, puffy red lips, a pink nose, puffy eyelids, a wet face with rosy cheeks.

"Hear my words, so that you don't need any of them." She moved her index finger towards you.

"I heard." you talked.

"Work with me." she said.

"what?." You blinked without understanding, you knew, but you refused to reach that idea.

You saw her sigh, put out the ashes of the cigarette on the table and lean back.

"Work with me, sell your body in a night club, or choose a man to sleep with for money, I know you are still young but there is no solution." She said with a blank face, what expressions do you see your eyes turning wide in shock.

"Jia are you crazy!? y/n is still a virgin and a fucking minor!." The other one sitting next to her rocked, staring at her in disbelief.

"I know she's a virgin! Being a virgin will bring her good luck and great fortune!." The other added trying to get you to accept the idea.

"The hell, I wouldn't sell my body for money! Where the hell is my dignity?!." You exploded tightening your jaw.

"Don't talk to me about dignity, do you think we are happy with our situation? We sell our bodies for money and to live! Nobody cares about Y/N!No one! Before you trample on everything or let life trample on you harshly and kill you!."

The other screamed, you flinched your head down, your lips trembled, your tears streamed down your face again, you don't know how sensitive you've been this while if someone wanted to make you cry a thousand times a day you would undoubtedly do.

"The hell you made her cry again, look what you did!" Lily hissed as she let go of her knot and hug her half-exposed chest while stroking your head with one hand, her other hand gently thinking your back.

"I want her to live! I know men are disgusting and scoundrels, but she must live. That old woman will not hesitate to throw her into a forced marriage with any idiot she sees to get rid of her!." The other added while crossing her arms angrily.

"Hey babes ,don't cry, Jia loves you and wants to give you the right solution." Lily spoke while gently patting your head.

"I think I have a good idea,for you y/n, or a good man will Please you very good."

⠀ ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤㅤ 𓇬 ㅤ⎯⎯

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru angst

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tiny-tigers · 3 months

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I don’t know what else to say then. Trust in his judgement to have chosen someone good hearted and maybe that will ease your pain. Better to feel this way now and be able to move past it and put your own self ahead.

Let's face it your are reasonable and I am not, you are keeping a cold head while I am driven by my own feelings. You are not moralizing the situation but I do feel guilty.

I don't have any solutions at the minute either so expect some more whining and complaints because my life is very difficult and it was the last drop. I am surrounded and having help but my psy is so expensive I might not be able to afford it anymore and I have hit rock bottom like before Jack era while I was depressed and having suicidal thoughts. Therefore I am trying to write it down here my thoughts when I cannot exorcize it, maybe it is not the place but it is my place.

Yes you are right, it doesn't help when people say I am prettier or that she isn't pretty. It doesn't help when I am trying to value her either or when they reassure me it will not last.

The thing is : I need to accept and stop feeling guilty for having "evil" human emotions that are raw and not allignated with my usual values and causes I care about like feminism. I shouldn't drag her down. Yes I am envious and jealous to the core. I never should have been allowed to have some closeness with him because it tears me apart.

That you want it or not he does represent the last thread that ties me to this life so "losing" him is a huge blow to my mind, I am used to the comfort of living in that little dreaming reality where I idealize him so he makes me create stuff , marking the way of my goals , he was the way and the aim. I do improved myself, I traveled, I tried to be prettier-wiser.... always in the hope to be perfect when I will meet him. From meeting to meeting trying to surpass it. I do value his look on me to the point I am desperately seeking his approval. From the page to the hope he simply rates myself a little and can give me some value/reason to continue.

If you are here I guess you already know that tho , your are not landing here without knowing the faithful adoration I have for him.

He is my refuge , here is my shelter when reality hits too hard. He was one of my life crutches but now I don't have content anymore and someone took what I have forever desires and ever wanted. Yes it is hard. Why her not me , why again losing / failing / never having something good for myself. Yes I reached my objectives and I had more than I could hope but for others reasons independent than him I feel like a waste of time and space.

No value, no talent, no charism , no physic to balance feeling wortheless, no job, no lover, friends absents, etc.

I don't belong anywhere, I reach no one, I am simply transparent. Colorless and insipid. I have no taste for life or what it offers. I have nothing and I am nothing. I used to at least have some sort of appeal to the future via next meeting with jack and could handle going from one to another and holding on in between. Now what is the point exactely ? He always been discreet, he will not reach for fans like before and hide with her in the family corner like other players. I cannot exist in his world when he is so present into mine. It does hurt and I am feeling even more bad that it is entirely my fault.

I am the only reason why I feel this bad and it enrages me because I cannot exit it on my own. I can rationalize the situation. I have been delusional, I am not enough and never would have been enough for him. It is so immature to fantasize that way over someone you don't know. Just stop what you have created with the page and lose again something. Cut it all off and live in real world. I have been a stupid silly creature reaching for a star. I disgust me for that to ever think I could have some chance for a change.

I do believe in all that is written here, it isn't self depreciating in an attempt of fishing for compliments, in case you were wondering.

Yes I will move on because I need it for my own survival but please still allow me to be sadened for a while. Never been a positive person, everything that moves me damages me.

Believe me if I could rewrite it I would change it .

#sorry it is sooooo long and useless just to say you are right and I suck #too much sadness this early is bad

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anyon-else · 2 years

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Goodbyes (The Hunger Games pt. 2.5) | Dabi comes to see you and Keigo one last time before you leave for the games. He finds that goodbyes are harder when you never expected them. – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual harassment

Author’s note | i hope i do dabi justice in this. it’s a bit more emotional than i think he’d ever get so it might be slightly ooc, so let me know what you think and feel free to leave me constructive feedback about my characterization! also this (and other .5 chapter) are not necessary to read to understand the overarching plot, they just give some insight into the lives of the side characters, and i think they’re fun to write.

Word count | 1.6k

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

As Dabi looked at you for what could have been the last time, he felt at a loss for words. You were devastated, not even noticing him as he fought an internal battle about whether or not to stay, what to say to you, how to approach you. He’d never really seen you like this. You and Dabi were close, closer than he was to most people, but Keigo was always the one who supported you when you felt like this. It wasn’t something Dabi excelled at.

But Keigo wasn’t here.

“Y/N,” he said carefully. You raised your head, finally seeing that you weren’t alone anymore. He watched as you tried to compose yourself, to put on your carefully cultivated mask of indifference. It wasn’t enough to keep him from seeing the cracks. Your eyes were bloodshot, and tear tracks stained your face. Fresh tears continued to fall down your cheeks, retracing the lines down to your chin before falling onto your closed fist.

“Hi Dabi,” you gave him a weak smile, barely glancing at him before your gaze was directed back at the wall to your left. Towards Keigo’s adjoining room.

“Look, I...you know I’m not good at stuff like this,” he started, hoping that he hadn’t completely blown his goodbye speech only one sentence in. Your small smile, this one more genuine than the last, motivated him to continue. You wouldn’t get a goodbye poem and a teary-eyed hug from him, and both of you knew that. It was a familiarity that you craved, and a comfort in itself. Dabi was solid and strong and wouldn’t do anything to surprise you. Not like the games.

Not like Keigo.

“I want you to know that I’ll be rooting for you guys. I’ll watch every day, and if you ever start to feel like there’s no hope...just know that I’m there, on your side.”

You nodded, eyes meeting his and finally, finally, he saw a glimmer of light in them. Some form of hope instead of the overwhelming fear and guilt that hadn’t seemed to leave you since Keigo volunteered. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re my best friend,” you finally whispered, voice weak and cracked. This was it. This was goodbye, “I’ll get him back to you, Dabi. Just take care of him after. Please.”

He knew that you would do this. That you would already be planning for Keigo’s survival at the expense of your life. It still felt like a punch in the gut, like all of the air was stolen from his lungs. You didn’t deserve this. Neither of you deserved this.

“I will,” his voice was quiet, though it still felt like a jolt to his system. He knew that an acceptance was the only thing that would release the tension in your shoulders, if only for a moment. It was the only thing he could think to do to ease some of your pain. Some part of Dabi felt like you’d passed that pain on to him, and now he held the weight of your fleeting life in his hands. It was a fragile thing, bound to the lives of twenty-three other children. Bound to the life of Keigo, the one person whose life you valued above anyone else's.

He briefly wondered if he should tell Keigo about your plans to keep him alive and end the game with him as the winner, but thought it would be better to keep it to himself. He’d told Keigo many of your secrets over the years, a fact that he wasn’t proud of, but this one was different. This one was about life and death. It was about bringing Keigo back alive.

He felt relieved. Then he immediately felt guilty. You were his friend too.

Before he could react, you stood from the rickety bench and threw yourself against him, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He felt you trembling and automatically lifted his arms, one hand reciprocating the hug and the other holding the back of your head, pressing it into the soft fabric of his jacket.

“Try not to die, Y/N. If something happens to him...”

You shook your head, fingers digging into his back in a silent plea that he not continue on. Not speak the possibility of Keigo’s death into existence. But he had to. He had to know that you would fight to the end, even if you lost everything.

“If something happens, you have to come back. Okay? I know it’ll be hard, and you’ll want to grieve, but come back to me, and I’ll be there for you. I can support you if you come back to me.”

He pressed his lips against the top of your head, cursing himself when tears blurred his eyes. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid when he decided to accept your and Keigo’s friendship. Vulnerability felt like a disease to him, and you and Keigo both brought that part of him out. A part of himself that he hated.

But then you nodded against him, and hope bloomed in his chest for the first time since your names were called, and he felt a bit lighter than he had when he stepped in the room.

“I can’t lose you both.”

Keigo looked the same as he had on the stage. Dabi wouldn’t have been surprised if his expression had been frozen into one of easy indifference since he volunteered in Shinsou’s place. He was a prisoner of his own mind. Dabi felt helpless all over again.

“Keigo–”

“Dabi,” his friend interrupted, standing up so suddenly that Dabi took an involuntary step back towards the door, eyes wide at the intensity of Keigo’s movements. Keigo stopped when he was less than a foot from Dabi, eyes determined, “I need you to do some things for me when I’m gone.”

When he’s gone. Not while he’s gone, not until he gets back...when.

He must’ve had the same self-sacrificing ideas that you did.

“Alright.”

“First, you need to watch after Eri,” he said, eyes locked on Dabi’s. Dabi wasn’t surprised that these requests involved the others in the district. Keigo was something of a hero within your small community. He was always the first to throw himself into the ring, even at his own expense. He was selfless to a fault.

Except when it came to you.

“Why?”

“She’s not safe with Chisaki. I don’t have any proof, but just watch out for her and you’ll see what I mean. She always walks around with bruises on her arms, and she’s jumpier than other kids her age. Just make sure she stays safe.”

Keigo took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shinsou,” he nodded to himself, “Aizawa will be gone during the games, and he sometimes gets bullied when he’s here on his own. If you’re around when the kids are all walking to school, no one will bother him. Just until Aizawa comes back.”

“Just Aizawa?”

Keigo ignored him.

“And keep an eye on Mineta. I’ve heard he’s a creep and keeps harassing the girls in his class. If you catch him doing something, just...I don’t know, scare him enough that he doesn’t do it again.”

In all honesty, Dabi had never heard of this Mineta kid and had no idea where to start with the ask, but he nodded anyways. These could realistically be his best friend’s dying wishes. He could figure it out on his own.

“I-I can’t think of anything else. I know there’s more, I just...my mind is–”

“It’s fine,” Dabi cut in quickly, watching as Keigo’s indifference melted into misguided panic, “we’ll all be fine. I’ll take care of things.”

It might not have been the truth. Dabi hoped he wouldn’t fuck this up.

“I trust you.”

Fuck. Dabi didn’t deserve that trust. He’d probably only make it a day before he gave up following through on his promises. He wasn’t a hero, not like Keigo. He couldn’t save his best friends. He couldn’t save his little brother. What good was he to the district?

“Don’t get killed,” Dabi offered, trying to think of anything else even remotely helpful to offer Keigo, but both of them knew that there were a lot of things that could go unspoken between them. Anything that Dabi could’ve said, Keigo already knew.

“I’ll try.”

Hugging Keigo was different than hugging you. Your hugs were firm. He felt like falling apart wasn’t an option when you wrapped your arms around him. That if you were there, he’d be able to stand against anything.

Hugging Keigo was softer. Keigo melted when he hugged, like it was the last time he’d ever get to do so. He’d seen it millions of times when you and Keigo embraced, and now he was on the receiving end of it.

It was a first for him from both of you, and he found himself wishing that the first time wasn’t likely to be the last. He was always adamant about his aversion to physical affection, but now it felt like he’d just received a gift, only for it to be ripped from his arms. He tried keeping a tight hold of it, desperate to keep it safe, but it was too late. It didn’t belong to him now.

It only took a day for him to forget the exact feeling of how both of you had hugged him, and he mourned that loss first. That same day, he began to prepare himself for more loss to come.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks imagine #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x y/n #keigo takami imagine #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha imagine #my hero academia #thg #emwrites

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tzigone · 1 year

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Rewatched Dirty Dancing for the first time in at least a decade

Rewatched Havana Nights, too. I've seen the original mores time, but it's been at least a decade since I've seen either.

Of course, the story is a moment in time and ends there. But people like "what happened next" and I totally went to look for fanfic on it, I admit. Way too many "she's pregnant" stories - hell no. Johnny should not have trouble getting condoms at that time in history and given Penny's recent trauma, I just don't really buy them not using birth control.

But what do I think would happen? Well, I want my couples together. But what do they do, besides be in love? I will say Baby and Johnny are part of the formation and growth of each other and each other and the the events influenced their world views in ways that would linger forever, even if they didn't stay a couple. But I'd keep 'em together, because I'm a sucker for happy ending.

I admit to not watching all that closely this time around, so may have missed details telling us what they might want.

Did Johnny really truly love dance in the sense of wanting it as a career? I know Penny said it was all she ever wanted to do - not sure if she was being honest about it. If I made one really have success at it, it'd be her, I think.

I remember how Johnny felt about about Baby's father helping Penny. Now, yes, saying he's nothing is part of his own skewed view of his own worth. But would he like to be able to do something "important" because it's what he wants, instead of just for the regard it would grant him? That ability to help, and the willingness that Baby had to do so, are something he so admires, and doe he want to emulate it?

I do think Johnny has both desire and disdain for that upper middle class lifestyle (indeed, some of the disdain at, least, is envy-driven, though some deserved, as well). The security, the comfort, the women who take care of themselves and smell nice and all the "softness" and ease are have their appeals. I don't know if he could accomplish it - college isn't expensive then (well, depending on where you are), but affording to live while you are at school is an entirely different thing. And I'm not sure his pride or sense of "rightness" would allow for college-graduate wife Baby paying his way through later (and, of course, he'd be older). College is by no means a necessity, though. But what flavor of meaningful work would suit and please him?

Anyone else think his uncle might be better off than his own folks - union painter/plasterer would not be bad pay (though it depends on how many weeks work there are each year, and, of course, is blue collar).

Baby. Frances. She grew up so much. She went from viewing her father as almost perfect to realizing he was a (still good) man with his own flaws and biases. She learned you can't always change the unjust things, but trying matters anyway. But she's not as naive anymore. It's obviously important that she not give up wanting to help - to make the world a better place. But it's the method of it, I'm curious to. Will she be a lawyer or economist or something else? Certainly, I don't expect her to live in the same sort of "bubble" she grew up in - with the idea that "those people" are "other" - that it's good to help, but that they occupy different social spheres. So I do think she'd want a more mixed (economically, socially, racially) environment and social circle in her adulthood. Does she still go for the Peace Corps or for more mundane help at home? The world and youth culture change so much in the next few years (though we have to be mindful that the actual sixties had a whole lot boring, non-activist, traditional life-style young people), and how is she affected by those changes? Don't want her the cynic.

Then for Havana Nights, there's a whole other pickle with the political elements and consequences. Javier is hopeful for a brighter future. And Castro was quite popular for a quite a while, and there really were significant improvements in life for many. But he not a proponent of violence, and the executions, imprisonments, and setting folks up to spy on each other will not endear him. So how long until he leaves, and what does he do when he does? He's devoted to his family and is the major financial provider for his mother and nephew. Having dependents makes so much more difficult. Will he get leave for the US? Will he get his family there, too or just send remittances? And his brother is a whole 'nother can of worms. Even if he does come to the US, he absolutely not going to mesh well with the earliest/first-wave emigrants, who favor Batista like US influence over Cuba.

Katey is very much the typical teen in that she no idea what she wants to do with her life. She doesn't have a "direction" or dream job or anything like that. Still very much finding her way. Just with broader horizons after her experiences. And far more cognizant of of the impact of politics. Don't know what I'd have her do.

#Dirty Dancing #Frances Houseman #Johnny Castle #Javier Suarez #Katey Miller #Dirt Dancing Havana Nights #Havana Nights #Baby Houseman

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jacquelinemerritt · 1 year

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Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged Episode 5 Review

Originally posted on October 22nd, 2015

Cloud prepares to dress as a woman, and nobody seems to mind.

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, it is likely that you’ll recall that in my review of Dragonball Z: Abridged Episode 15, I criticized Team Four Star for their handling of a character meant to represent trans and masculine women, who after having her gender revealed was subject to many demeaning jokes that sent the message of the inadequacy of women who don’t conform to traditional expectations of femininity (a critique that I still hold to).

And then, you might recall that KaiserNeko, one of the lead writers and editors for DBZA, reblogged my review of that episode, apologizing and explaining that they had mishandled the representation of women like Dodoria unintentionally, and their focus was solely on keeping the situation in character.

I bring this up now because Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged Episode 5 does an excellent job at showing just how much Team Four Star has grown as writers since the release of DBZA Episode 15, wiping away any concerns I had about how they would handle this part of the story.

See, Final Fantasy VII contains, as an incredibly important part of its plot, a sequence where Cloud must cross-dress and pose as a woman in order to rescue Tifa, and I was worried that the over-the-top caricatures present throughout most of this series would carry over into their handling of the cross-dressing sequence, which could easily lead to harmful jokes at the expense of trans and gender-nonconforming people.

Takahata101 nails it from the very beginning though, and this happens in part due to the presence of Aerith, whose unbridled optimism and supportiveness has her leading Cloud gleefully through the transition process, where someone like Tifa or Barrett would have immediately rejected the idea.

It’s also incredibly meaningful that Cloud is the one to suggest that he cross-dress; while he makes the comment that he could do so off-handedly, it still suggests that posing as the other gender isn’t outside of his comfort zone, and the ease with which Aerith convinces him to go for it provides more evidence for this, and it is finally fully proven that Cloud desires this when he justifies cross-dressing in the terms of how much better than Tifa he would look while he saved her.

It’s also important to note the positive reactions of Giuseppe and the Church of Brodin to Cloud’s desire. Giuseppe has great dresses all around, but as soon as he realizes that it will be Cloud’s first dress, he abandons the rest of his work in order to make the best dress of his life just for him.

Similarly, the Church of Brodin are planning on forcing Cloud into a masculine challenge of strength to obtain a wig, but when they find out that he wants the wig for the sake of (in Aerith’s words) “becoming a woman,” they give it to him without the contest, claiming that it is not their place to question or challenge his lifestyle choice.

It’s interesting as well that the wig, which normally might be seen as an object denoting femininity, has been adopted by a church of ripped, masculine dudes as a symbol of their god’s masculinity, which is a fairly clever inversion of expectations.

Finally, when the members of the Church of Brodin give Cloud the wig, and Squaticles says that no one has the right to discriminate against another person’s lifestyle, Cloud says that he feels that context is needed. Now, I’m just a girl running a film criticism blog and mostly writing about abridged series, but I can’t help but wonder if, just perhaps, that’s a nod to my criticism of DBZA Episode 15. Maybe I’m being a bit presumptive here, but it would actually be pretty amazing if that were the case, as I’d have a definitive example of my writing having an effect on the world, and who doesn’t want that?

Rating: 5/5

If you enjoyed this review, consider supporting me on Patreon.

Stray Observations

I do feel I should add a brief addendum pointing out that crossdressing and being a trans or masculine woman are not the same, but the handling of gender non-conformity in this episode is still excellent.

Cloud: “Aerith, it would appear to me that Tifa has been kidnapped by a Mafia leader with the intention to give her the sex.” Aerith: “Oh no, she can’t do that ‘til she’s married!”

“Am I, the owner of my own store, sure that I have anything else besides drugs? Noooo, I’m pretty sure.”

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mbti-notes · 2 years

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I am an ESTP and I want to know whether it is possible/healthy to eschew certain societal values that don't match my own. For example, I don't value or care to dress up or wear makeup, I like a clean simple look that is low fuss/effort. However, I see others put more effort into their appearance and be rewarded for this, and this makes me want to do so as well, even though deep down I really don't care. I also find I respect myself less for giving in to societal pressures at the expense of myown

How old are you? It is normal for people in adolescence and young adulthood to struggle with issues of personal identity. Specifically, it is not always easy to find the right balance between staying true to oneself and meeting the expectations of others. Some people get trapped in either/or thinking that easily becomes too extreme.

ESTPs who only care about what they want and never think about what larger negative effect they're producing are unhealthy ESTPs, misusing their judging functions in service of a shallow, lazy, or careless Se approach to life. If you truly care about yourself and hope to feel some pride in who you are, you wouldn't want to be a negative version of yourself, and you wouldn't want to present a negative image of yourself to the world.

Ideally, ESTPs should use their powers of reason to establish the right balance between self and others, which is related to proper Ti and Fe development. In order for ESTPs to genuinely "care" about doing something, they have to understand the reasoning behind it and agree with it - this is how one arrives at better Ti-Fe balance. Sometimes, when a situation is complex, you might have to take extra steps to truly understand it. You would have to consider all the different factors and all the different ways of looking at the situation - this requires Ni big-picture visualization powers.

Taking your example of dress: On one hand, as an individual, you ought to be free to choose your own style and wear what is in accordance with your comfort, beliefs, and values. On the other hand, you are a participant in relationships with others and what you do has a larger effect, even when you don't realize it. The way you dress projects an image and that image influences how people evaluate and relate to you. Of course, how people evaluate you matters much more in some situations than others, so it's not just "to care or not to care", as though the complexity of life can be distilled into one rule. Remember: Ti values the process of coming to a rational judgment, which requires deliberation and some nuance. To develop mature use of Ti requires you to use your reasoning skills more carefully to determine the best judgment based on the situation at hand.

Imagine going to an office job interview in a swimsuit. Imagine what society would look and feel like if everyone wandered around in their pajamas all day. There is a social element of dress because the way you present yourself contributes to the overall vibe of a social environment. The vibe is real because it has a very tangible effect on how people think, feel, and behave. People dress professionally at the office because employers want to encourage professional behavior, employees want to maximize their chances of making a good impression, and clients/customers want to be assured of professional conduct. People dress casually at the neighborhood restaurant because they want everyone to feel at ease and enjoy themselves. People dress in dark shades at a funeral in order to express their sadness/grief on a somber occasion. People dress up for their dates to show that they care enough to make an effort for love.

While dress is largely a personal choice, if you understand that there is an element of dress that extends beyond you and impacts others, then a reasonable person would try to find the appropriate middle ground, wouldn't they?

To reconcile self with others isn't about "me vs them" (oversimplistic either/or thinking). It's about choosing the most constructive ways of being yourself (maximizing the benefits).

#estp #auxiliary ti #physical appearance #fashion #style #dress #independence #conformity #ask

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anguisette90 · 2 years

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Living in the United States of America in 2022 is having a serious conversation with your partner of 16 years about getting a divorce – not because you're unhappy or you're not planning on staying together, but because the upfront cost of a divorce is only about $300 in your state. And if you're divorced, your wife qualifies for state health insurance, which will literally save you $3-5K a year just in premiums and her routine medical expenses alone.

Living in the U.S. in 2022 is getting divorced because you cannot afford to remain married. Because somehow even though the average cost of rent in your county is almost 60% of your monthly household income (or 70% if you want a 2 bedroom) you don't qualify for any kind of state or federal assistance.

I work in a white collar middle-class job with a decent amount of education under my belt and better than average benefits. We've been incredibly fortunate where housing is concerned and we're still looking at almost 40% of our income going to it. Our monthly budget after minimum expenses is -$200. We will continue to operate at that deficit for at least a year, because despite the fact that my (perhaps soon-to-be ex?) wife has a medical diagnosis declaring her disabled and unable to work, her application will require at least one or two appeals before she'll be approved – because that's the standard process in this country.

Now, we're very privileged compared to a lot of other people. I have the option to work overtime with some regularity and most months can make up the deficit with ease. She had a decent amount of retirement savings that she cashed in when she was no longer able to work and we can live comfortably enough supplementing my income with that. We have a wide support network of family (mostly found, some blood) that would help out in a pinch. This is not one of those "please help us" posts and I'm not linking you to my Venmo or Kofi. I'm a geriatric millennial. I don't even have a Kofi.

This is just a statement of how profoundly fucked this country is. We couldn't even legally get married until 2016 because the "land of the free" didn't recognize same-sex marriage until then, and we were so excited to do it that we did it twice (one legal ceremony, one wedding). I don't believe a marriage vow is something that should be taken lightly. I won't say I don't believe in divorce, but for me personally when I made my vows, I knew it meant that I was committing to (among other things) always work with her to make our marriage work, no matter how challenging it might get. It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows, but honestly, most days it is. And anyone who tells you that marriage is hard work is probably married to the wrong person. I wake up every single day next to my wife, and every single day I am grateful to be married to her because she is a gift.

Yet today I find myself seriously considering divorce, because a piece of paper doesn't change a thing between us (somewhat ironic, I know, given the number of times I've written that sentiment into fics for the opposite reason, lol) and taking steps to provide us with a better quality of life & more financial security feels in line with my marriage vows, even if we have to break them in the process. But I am so incredibly fucking disappointed that that's the choice I have. I am so fucking furious that this country has built a structure so dedicated to profit at all costs that the best thing I can do to provide for my wife is to divorce her.

That's it. No pretty words or bow to put on top of this rant. Just a heap of bitter disappointment and a big ol' Fuck Capitalism and Fuck the U.S.

#shouting into the void #real life shit #anti capitalism #universal healthcare #life in the us #angry rant #im sad and angry #and really fucking tired #divorce #marriage

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paulmarrington · 1 year

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My Recumbent Tadpole Trike

Everyone has different needs. It is good to pimp your trike to meet them best. My configuration is for adventure on new paths without worrying about climbing hills. Speed is not an issue. I am about looking around, not getting there quickly.

Configuration Based on Needs and Budget

My first trike was a HP Veloteknic Gekko fx 20 - about 12 years old as of 2023. The original configuration was tough to ride. Now I know why. The lowest crank ring had 40 teeth. I did not understand the options then, so I installed a crank e-drive and a Nuvinci hub. Electric assist worked well for my commute but did little for my fitness. I have now given my Gekko a third lease of life to travel the rail trails and tracks.

Pedals

My wife suffered from a "leg suck" when we first started riding. Leg suck is when your foot slips off the pedal, and you attempt to run over yourself. At best, you end up with a very bruised calf muscle. I would hate to think what "at worst" would be. I did not understand the mechanics at the time. To be safe, we started to wear clipless cycling shoes. The name is a misnomer as these shoes clip onto the pedals so your feet cannot slip off. Clipless shoes have problems. They are expensive and often not that comfortable to walk in. The clips protrude from the sole - making walking on wooden floors a no-no. The worst problem for me is that the clip places the pedal on the ball of the foot. It maximises the stress on the angle and front of the foot while riding. The pain limited the distances I could ride comfortably. It turns out that the leg suck issue my partner experienced was from the length of the boom. I cut it a little shorter and moved to mountain bike pedals. I get the most oversized mountain bike pedals I can find that have good anti-skid spikes. Wear sneakers or walking shoes that allow the pins on the pedals to fit between grips on the shoe sole. Just as importantly, use the correct boom extension. Your leg should still be bent between 5 and 10 degrees when a pedal is away from you. You won't get leg suck if your foot cannot leave the pedal. There is another reason for this boom length. It is inefficient if your leg straightens entirely at the end of a stroke. All your stroke power occurs before your leg is straight.

Crankset

The original Gekko crankset had the lowest gear ring with 40 teeth. I thought I could not keep up on the hills because of my weight. It was a bit of both. The first thing I do now with a new trike is to replace the crankset with a mountain bike rig of 22/32/42 teeth and 152mm cranks. The 22-tooth ring is the first step to easing riding up hills. It dropped the Gekko from 24 gear inches (GI) to 13 for hill climbing with a standard derailleur set on the rear. For me (at 85kg/13 stone), 13 gear inches means I still have to push harder for a 5-degree slope. It is possible but tiring. The other unusual thing about these cranksets is the 152mm length cranks. Most cranks are longer than 170mm. Longer cranks work on an upright bike where you can use your weight for leverage. We don't want our knees bending more than 90 degrees for a recumbent. Think of doing squats with your back to a wall. The further you lower yourself, the harder it is to stand back up. Most of our riding energy is over a bending range of about 70 degrees. The shorter crank works for everyone, including beanpoles. Also, it is way better for your knees.

Mobile Phone Mount

I like to watch my ride with either Ride with GPS or Strava. There are quite a few other apps. They all have their strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately, mobile phone holders for upright bicycles are not always suitable for a recumbent. As you can see from the photograph, I have modified (as in bent) a handlebar accessory mount to suit my purposes. The phone angles slightly downwards to minimise glare. Modern screens can be seen clearly at that angle.

Tires

I have spent most of my trike riding hours on road tires. They provide a hard ride and minimal grip on grass or dirt. I have switched to balloon tires. The Schwalbe Big Ben tires are 2.15" balloons. By running them at 20psi, I get good suspension below 15kph (10mph) and more surface area for off-road excursions. They also have good protection from thorns and similar nasties. I know when it is time to pump up my tires if the trike hops when I ride over a gutter. What they do not have is a nobbly tread. They will probably not work as well in sand or mud. I have put Kendra tires on my partner's trike to see if the difference is worth considering.

Brakes

The Gekko has standard mechanical disc brakes on the front and a rim drag brake for the rear. I much prefer drum brakes on the front wheels. They stop you as quickly but feel a lot more gentle. I am not sure it is even possible to switch them over. I will look for softer compounds when my pads for the disc brakes wear out. The Gekko has a rim brake on the rear wheel and a locking control lever on the left handlebar. I have always used it as an excellent handbrake. Then I was told it was a drag brake used to slow your descent on hills. What an excellent idea. It will save me having to always hang on to the brake levers - if I ever remember to use it.

Flags and Camera Mount

Flags hang from a thin fibreglass pole - except for my trike. I like to film my rides with a 360 camera, so I have mounted a trekking pole with a camera mount using a metre of 1" aluminium tube. I can drop it down when on the car. I was tired of flags being lost or pinched, so I purchased a roll of orange bunting flags. They will last me a lifetime or two. They are attached with hook and loop cable ties so I can remove them while filming.

Hub Gears

Like almost every trike sold, the Gekko came with derailleur gears. I stuck with them until I put a crank motor on for commuting. Derailleur gearing and electric motors don't play well together. When you stop pedalling, the e-bike system takes a second or two to drop power. You can't change down while going uphill under load. By the time you can change down, it is often too late. We have a 250w limit on e-bikes. I imagine there would be much less need for gear changes with a 1000w motor. I switched to a Nuvinci (now Enviolo) 360 hub "gears". The quotes are because the Nuvinci is a continuous design without gears. I ran with the Nuvinci for many years. It is a good and reliable system. You can change the gear ratio from 0.5 to 1.8 - a difference of 360%. It is slightly better than the original derailleur system giving me a low gear of 10 GI (gear inches) with the crankset above. While ten gear inches is enough to ride up 5-degree slopes without stress, I cannot pedal 10-degree slopes without pain. The figures will differ for you as they depend on weight and resilience. For my retirement chariot, I installed a Rohloff 14-speed hub. Everyone agrees that it is the Rolls Royce in bicycle gearing with renowned reliability and a gear range of 526%. My low-speed gear inches is now at 6. A Rohloff hub is expensive - adding another half to the price of a trike if you want to climb any mountains. I hope to have a more economical solution soon. The Nuvinci hub did not go to waste. It is now on my partner's Catrike Villager. Installation was a doddle as I kept it on my Gekko rim. She weighs 50kg (< 8 stone). I think 10 gear inches will work for all the hills we ride. Time will tell (as will William).

Exclusions

Well, one exclusion, anyway. Adding an electric motor in the hub or crank has become very popular. I had one for when I was commuting. Now I am riding for exercise and pleasure. Electrification takes that away for me. I also want to travel and try out distant rail trails. Electricity needs charging points. An e-bike system also adds complexity and increases the chance of failure. A modern mid-drive (crank drive) with a torque sensor allows exercise, but you will need the power to replace the lower gearing you lose when installing the drive. It comes with a 42-tooth chainring - compared to the 22 tooth smallest chainring on my crankset. A hub electric motor allows you to keep all derailleur gearing but precludes hub gears such as Nuvinci or Rohloff. There is another option. A Schlumpf Mountain Drive replaces the crankset. It has two gears - 1:1 and 2.5:1. One version comes with 27 and 38 tooth chainrings. At low range, this gives the same as an 11-tooth chainring giving six gear inches using the standard derailleur at the rear. There is no turning back once installing a Schlump system since the installer has to bore out the bottom bracket.

Imperfections

For every problem, there is a solution. Every solution creates another problem. - The disc brakes feel scratchy and a bit abrupt. I will be interested to try softer pads. - The brake handles are too short. Putting the gear change below the grip means the brake handles mount lower. Longer brake handles stick out further from the handlebar, making them harder to use. I minimise discomfort by adjusting the brakes to activate when the brake handles are close to the handlebar. That's about it - for now.

In Conclusion

I am happy with my setup. The perfect recumbent tadpole trike will vary from person to person and from use to use. Please let me know what your preferred setup is. Read the full article

#Recumbenttrike #tadpoletrike

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audhooman · 2 years

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WARNING: will probably ruin your childhood, has a wall of text, mention of violence, gang violence mention, includes the plot of Oliver & Co., this is my ramble

Please note that I love this movie and it’s one of my favorites, I simply had a what-if thinking spiral

so I was watching Oliver & Co. and I thought of them as humans (as one does) but when I tried to rewrite the story with the animals as humans?

It got so much darker

Like, sure we like the idea of it and seeing what we think they’d look like as humans is super cool, but think about it-

It’s a story of an orphan that gets lost on the streets of NYC in the 80s, and he’s very hungry. So he searches for food, but the guy doesn’t give him any. An ADULT MAN comes along and says he’ll help get the food, it works, but the man runs off with the food they got together. Naturally the boy chases after him to get the food back- all the way to where the man is staying with his (OTHER ADULT) friends to share the food with some made up story. The boy makes his presence known, but is threatened by everyone but the man earlier (sure they think he’s from another gang but hE IS A KID). The man explains and they ease up, even going as far as excepting him into the ‘family’ (gang. They even say they’re a gang in the film). Another (ADULT) man shows up and it’s found out they’re in BIG DEBT with a mafia(?) boss. The mobster shows up with his two bodyguards that threaten the ‘family’ while Mr Scrungly (that’s what I’m gonna call debt man) talks with scary loan shark guy. Blah blah, life is threatened, 3 days to get the money, blah blah blah- Mr Scrungly comes back after scary boss guy leaves, learns about the new kid, and welcomes him warmly. NEXT DAY! They take the new kid and show him the ropes of their job (steal money via exploitation). As this is going on, the little boy makes friends with a little girl that’s in the car and he ends up going home with her (as the gang is left behind after being found out, but they think the boy was kidnapped due to them being found out). Little boy and little girl bond by making the kitchen a disaster for one very unhealthy snack, butler calls parents, little boy gets to stay! Meanwhile the resident adult female (what would she be in human AU? An aunt, cousin? Let’s go with aunt that leaches off her sibling’s wealth) is UNHAPPY over the fact a new child from the streets is now in ‘her’ house. Oh also she flirts with every man and plays with their hearts blah blah blah that musical number where birds drooled over a poodle. Anyways, she doesn’t like the fact the boy is here and is jealous of the two children practicing piano and playing. Later when the ‘rescue mission’ commences she helps the group KIDNAP. OLIVER. They take him back home and are shocked to find that! Oh wow!! He liked it there at the kind rich kid’s house where he didn’t have to worry about food?! How could he!! This is a betrayal! Let’s KICK THE CHILD OUT OF OUR HOME!!! Then Mr Scrungly comes back, hugging the kid for comfort and is very sad he didn’t get money cause now he’ll probably DIE. He sees that hey! New kid has new and expensive looking accessories! Instead of selling those accessories, what if we RANSOM HIM?!? So they do, but when rich girl comes with fancy lady and a piggy bank, Mr Scrungly realizes that these are children. This is very wrong and we should not do this. But it’s too late and the girl gets kidnapped by evil loan shark man. Blah blah rescue mission: yeeting the boy through a window is a great idea, huh? Then they sneak in and are saving the girl, yay! LOAN SHARK PULLS OUT A GUN! Mr Scrungly appears, yay! They hightail it outta there on the very cheap scooter/moped thing and it’s a car chase through NYC at night- somehow they go through the subway tracks, fight scenes commence, the two bodyguards are killed, they end up on a bridge, the boy and the man are THROWN by the loan shark, the gang maneuvers so they aren’t hit by a train, loan shark was distracted by last minute and gets hit by the train and DIES. Everyone goes to the side so they aren’t killed and check on the boy and man. Boy looks d e a d. Man is sad. Everyone is sad cause they think he’s dead but nO WAIT HES ALIVE! Blah blah victory- timeskip to the little girl’s birthday and oh wow she’s let all these homeless people in her house for her birthday and her butler and aunt(?) are okay with it! But it’s okay cause they’re friends now :)! Her parents definitely won’t mind! ‘sides, they all leave once Mr Scrungly loses a bet to the butler lmao

#so yeah #KINDA VERY DARK #y’know?#oliver & company #disney #Disney is dark #ruining childhoods #lol #death tw #violence tw #disnerd #trigger warnings #trains #new york city #but in the eighties #80s #hhhh #tell me if I need to add any other trigger warnings #please

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