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tieronecrush · 2 years ago

Text

hot & heavy

chapter two: couldn’t look away

neighbor!joel x f!reader

chapter 1 / series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart, darling [we're evolving]), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self-pressure, masturbation (m), voyeurism, real pervy behavior from joel, descriptions of female nudity, fantasies of p in v sex, lil slightest bit of dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish bye!!!

Wednesday morning comes by in a flash.

You’d spent the rest of the weekend after the neighborly barbecue replaying that last conversation with Joel repeatedly, your mind finding a different way to interpret his words each time.

“Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Was he excited to see you more? Was he flirting? Was he glad to have childcare? Was he annoyed about you getting involved? Was he nervous about having you around?

These questions looped in your head like a locked groove on a vinyl record — spinning around and around until someone comes to shut it up.

Which is exactly what happens as you stand on the Millers' porch after your short, polite knock at eight o’clock this morning.

Joel throws the door open in a whirl of nervous energy, his head turned towards a space further into his home. You clock his profile, hooked nose leading your eyes along the line of his face to the slightly patchy facial hair framing his jaw and his plush lips, which are moving as he projects back in the direction he’s facing.

“Got ten minutes until we’re rolling out, Bug! Better have your cereal finished and sneakers ready for me!”

Hearing his drawl, although not for you, makes your brain immediately shut up all of those musings from the last few days. The silence doesn’t last for long — your mind starts up again, but this time, your thoughts are merely consumed by a loop of “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” when Joel turns to you standing outside the entrance. His lips stretch up at the corners, one side reaching a hair higher on his cheeks. Perfectly set pearly whites flash from between the two pink pillows, and your previous mantra is interrupted with the question of whether or not he had braces as a kid.

Who are you kidding? Joel definitely didn’t have braces. He has to be one of those lucky people that avoided the gawky, awkward preteen years and grew into the perfect specimen of a man that is standing in front of you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” — that nickname again — “Thanks so much for popping by early to get the details for everything. Past few days have been a little hectic getting settled and fully unpacked, and trying to keep Sarah entertained in the meantime.”

His chocolate eyes squint subtly as the light creases next to his eyes crinkle. The amount of eye contact is verging on too much for you, your insides rumbling like an engine turning over and his presence revving your nerves.

Heat grows at the back of your neck, ready to blame any sweat sheening your skin from the rising humidity in the morning air when in reality it’s all because of him. Your throat hems as you pull on your own smile, years of debutante-like training to save face in uncomfortable situations blessing you at this moment.

“Morning, Mr. Miller. It’s really no problem at all, I’m usually an early riser so I would’ve been up anyways.”

People pleasing liar. Your alarm is usually your mom coming into your room to ask what you want for lunch.

“Please, just call me Joel. C’mon in, sweetheart. I’ve got all the camp info on the pamphlet that’s on our counter, and I figured I’d give you a quick tour of the place so you don’t get the abridged version from the seven-year-old this afternoon.”

A chuckle falls from your lips, stepping inside once Joel moves. He closes the door behind you while you take a quick inventory of the space. The front door leads into a small entryway, a table to your right, and a coat closet to your left. You follow the lead of the shoes piled up under the console table, adding your beat-up baby blue Chuck Taylors to the mix of worn work boots and sneakers, and small, sparkly sandals and velcro tennies.

The entryway opens into the living room, a large leather couch against the front window and a recliner perpendicular to it. The coffee table is an oversized rectangle, matching the sizes of the other furniture. It fits well enough into the space, but you can immediately tell that a man lives here, even without the context you’re privy to. Identical throw pillows don each corner of the sofa and the chair, some throw blankets strewn around. Remotes and DVDs lay across the coffee table haphazardly, a curated collection of Disney originals with action movies like Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade and Curtis and Viper 2. It surprises you to also see the romantic comedy The Goodbye Girl thrown on the surface, a pang of jealousy shooting through your chest at the thought that it was likely rented for a date that Joel had this weekend, or maybe right before he moved.

“This is the living room, obviously. Feel free to hang out here or watch TV or a movie if I’m ever home late. Sarah will probably beg you to watch The Little Mermaid with her at some point, it’s her favorite and I’m sure she’ll want to know your thoughts,” Joel’s hand falls to your back to guide you easily into the room, moving towards the large opening that leads into the kitchen. His touch is featherlight against the cotton of your t-shirt, a barely there pressure that is rippling energy up your back and down the back of your legs.

“It’s my favorite, too, so already got one thing in common,” you glance over at Joel, a grin tugging at your lips when his sideways smile returns, his hand pressing to rest fully against your back as he leads you into the kitchen.

“More of an Aladdin man myself, but I have been known to hum along to ‘Kiss the Girl’ every once in a while,” he confesses with a chuckle before he turns away from you, his hand leaving your back as the dining table in the breakfast nook comes into view. Sarah’s sitting engulfed in her cereal and a picture book laid out in front of her, not looking up quite yet to acknowledge your presence or her dad’s.

“Now I have to hear that sometime. And maybe you can give me a full blown rendition of ‘A Whole New World’.”

Your smile is innocent, words coated with saccharine and a hint of flirtation. It’s a line that you feel comfortable toeing right now, testing the waters to see what exactly Joel will give back — if anything.

As Joel opens his mouth to respond, Sarah’s ears perk up at the sound of your newly familiar voice. She drops her spoon into the bowl, some milk splashing out onto the placemat underneath the dish. Tiny legs scramble to stand on the seat of her wooden chair, curls bouncing as she wiggles in a full-body wave to greet you.

“You’re here! Daddy says you’re gonna hang out with me after I get home from camp. Are you gonna wait here for me all day? I’ve got lots of fun toys you can play with if you get bored. I can show you!”

Sarah beams excitedly as she bends down to pick up her cereal bowl, her dad reacting after it seems you both have the vision of spilled milk and a drenched little girl falling to the ground as she tries to maneuver herself down from standing on the chair.

“Bug, what do I always say? Butts in seats, not feets. If you put the bowl down, you can sit and get out much easier. Don’t need to be taking you to the hospital instead of camp today, right?”

Joel’s standing behind her chair now, holding the back as he waits for her to set the dish on the table and pulls the chair away from the surface after she’s fully seated again. His hand finds the top of her head once her feet are planted on the ground, flattening the kinky spirals under it.

Sarah rushes away from her dad, crossing the room to wrap her arms around your legs. Your hand finds the same spot as Joel’s had, fingers lacing into the soft curls to push them away from her face as you look down at her with a tender grin. You squat down to be closer to her eye level, sitting on your calves and locking your fingers together in front of you.

“Well, good morning to you too, Miss Sarah! I really wish I could stay all day and wait for you and play with all your cool toys, but my dad has some chores for me to do. However, I will be eagerly waiting for you at pickup today! And then we’ll come back here and hang out and play with all the toys until your dad gets home from work!”

A giddy smile adorns Sarah’s face, her tiny frame jumping up and down excitedly as she giggles. Joel strides over, the sound of his daughter’s excitement tugging at the corner of his mouth. His large arms scoop her up effortlessly, holding her at his hip as he reaches out a hand to help you up from your squat. You take it, rough callouses from the labor of building smooth against your softer palm. A jolt of energy shocks your nerves at the contact, goosebumps pebbling on your skin.

Joel drops your hand gently, wrapping it back around Sarah as he supports her weight. He looks between you and her, a smile still stretched sweetly across his expression.

“Alright, mija, we really gotta get goin’ if we are gonna get you there on time today. Can you please go get your sneakers on for me while I make sure everything is gonna be in order for later?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in questioning, Sarah’s confident nod easing them back down. He swings her out of his arms and sends her toward the front door, eyes snapping back to yours.

“Hopefully she’ll be a bit tired when you get her later, she can be…energetic in the mornings,” he laughs softly and you do the same, following him as he circles around the island to your left.

Laid out on the granite is the camp pamphlet, with the address and pickup times, and instructions detailed inside. Next to it is a list of emergency numbers, including the landline for the site office where he’s currently working as well as Tommy’s number and a phone number labeled with the name Tiffany, scrawled in parenthesis next to it “Sarah’s Mom”. The ten digits following it send a swirl of anxiety in your gut, your mind reeling to what she could be like. He’s never mentioned her mom being in the picture, and it was silly of you to assume that she wouldn’t be. Maybe they were together still, maybe she was out of town for some reason when they moved.

As if Joel is hearing your thoughts out loud, he clears his throat and nods toward the paper.

“She, uh, she’s only got every other weekend right now…I figured I should put her down, y’know, in case I don’t answer or Tommy doesn’t either. Just for emergencies though. Please.”

You nod once at his anxious but clear directions for the phone number, eyes turning up from the list of numbers to meet Joel’s with an affable, thin smile. Joel continues at your understanding, reaching into his front pocket and fishing out his cell phone. He passes it to you with a “New Contact” page open, clearing his throat briefly before fumbling out.

“I, um, I thought we should probably exchange numbers, so I can call you — or y’know, you can give me any updates or text me or call me — if you wanna — with any questions. And I thought I could let you know when I’m on my way home if you’d like.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Miller. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m all good. I’m the one takin’ care of your kiddo, so you just tell me what you want me to do.”

The device sits weighted in your hands, eyes leaving Joel’s to begin punching in your information. You hand the phone back to him, your number stored under your name with “Nanny” following it in parenthesis.

You slip your own out of the back pocket of your jeans, giving it to Joel to put his own phone number in. The small brick is dwarfed in his hand, some incredibly quiet grumbles slipping from his lips as he messes up a few letters or digits from his large fingers working the small buttons. Once he’s done, your phone comes back to you with the information saved under Joel (Sarah’s Dad).

As if you really wouldn’t know who he was based on his first name alone.

You deposit your device back into your pocket, looking back at Joel and raising your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Anything else I should know, sir? Allergies, things that Sarah isn’t allowed, should I make dinner for y’all?”

Joel’s eyes fall away and his broad shoulders tense at the word ‘sir’, and part of you wonders if he’s averse to the polite title or if it’s a reaction to you speaking it towards him. Your thighs burn at the latter thought in a new way, adjusting your stance to hide the uncomfortable pressure you feel in your gut as you study him nervously fumbling around with the materials on the counter.

“No allergies, and I, um, try not to give her any sweets as a snack. She’ll ask for ‘em, but don’t feel bad puttin’ your foot down. And you most certainly don’t have to cook dinner for us, sweetheart. I promise I can take care of that once I get home. Might need it some nights when I’m late, but those times, Sarah’ll be just peachy with some mac-‘n-cheese or chicken nuggets.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice has a hint of teasing in it, the phrase rolling off your tongue flippantly and your eyes studying Joel’s reaction. He turns towards you to see the cheeky grin on your face, tension relaxing from his shoulders as he gives you a look. One that says “be careful”, a playful warning of the waters you’re merely dipping your toes in.

“Y’know, you’re real polite, but I promise you can call me just Joel, sweetheart. No need for the niceties.”

You swear you see the flecks of amber in his eyes darken in a flash, hands gathering everything to get it on the fridge to find when needed and leading you out of the kitchen.

The rest of the plans are discussed as Joel adjusts the velcro straps on Sarah’s shoes in the entryway, his back facing you as he tells you about where to find the key that’s hidden on the porch. You’re half listening and slipping on your own shoes, the other half of your cerebrum busy analyzing the way his navy blue cotton t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and rib cage as he’s kneeling down and bending over. The stretch of the material makes the hem ride up ever so slightly to reveal a thin stripe of tanned skin above the waistband of his Levi’s. The jeans are tight at his hips and the position he’s folded into shows off a sliver of the elastic of his gray boxers.

The image of him tight, taut, and bent over is reeling in your mind and intensifying that pressure you felt a few minutes before, only this time it travels from your gut to between your legs. The knowledge of the feeling in such an intimate area makes your cheeks and neck warm with anxiety, praying to whoever’s out there that Joel can’t tell what you’re thinking about him.

Once Sarah’s shoes are fixed and the straps of her Blue’s Clues backpack are slipped onto her shoulders, Joel stands up again and claps his hands together.

“C’mon, Bug. We gotta get goin’, can’t be late. Vamos, mija!”

Sarah jumps excitedly and looks up at you, stepping over to hug your legs.

“See you later!”

You fluff her curls, a soft smile finds your lips at her excitement to see you again.

“I’ll pick you up, and we can have all the fun before your dad gets home,” you send her an exaggerated wink, your eyes locking with Joel’s as Sarah’s arms pull away and she jets out of the front door that Joel is holding opening. He gestures for you to go ahead of him with a nod of his head, a crooked, closed smile donning his face.

The seven-year-old has bolted to the truck in the driveway, and you turn back to say a quick goodbye to Joel. Without realizing how close he was to you, your shoulder bumps his firm chest and his hand grabs for your waist as you stumble back. His large palm radiates warmth from its spot on your side, brown eyes fixed on yours as his fingertips dig into the flesh under your shirt. From this close distance, you get a hint of mint from his toothpaste and that familiar scent of bergamot and cedarwood from his cologne. It’s an intoxicating mix, your exhale hitching in your throat and a quick inhale following it to gather as much of his scent as possible. It feels comfortable, safe even, with his hand on you and his breath intermingling with yours. His tongue pokes out briefly to wet his lips, his hand falling to his own side when you take a step back and attempt to steady your breathing.

“You alright there, darlin’?”

Darlin’, that’s a new one.

Thuds of your pulse fill your ears while your head moves in a nod to cover up the electric shock of adrenaline that Joel has sent through your body.

“All good, thanks, Joel. Sorry for bumping into ya, didn’t realize you were right there. I was just gonna say goodbye, or really, see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Have a good day, and feel free to text or call if you have any questions,” his departing words are punctuated with a gentle smile, the crinkles next to his eyes growing deeper and a dimple appearing on his right cheek.

The sight makes your pulse grow louder in your ears, washing out other morning sounds of birds chirping and cars rumbling to life in everyone’s driveways. A short nod from you ends the conversation, and your feet step back and turn to walk down the two steps from the Miller’s porch to the front walkway. Joel follows behind, his work boots much louder against the wooden stairs. He calls out to you to grab your attention before you make it out of the driveway, passing off the extra car seat he grabbed from his garage before you arrived, explaining briefly how to install it in your backseat for Sarah; you take the plastic and felt safety device and head back home to wait out the hours of the day until you see him again.

Rounding his truck, Joel moves to get his daughter into the car and glances back at you at the same moment you do. Quickly, you turn right back around, your legs speeding up to carry you across your lawn to the open garage door of your house. Risking it, you turn back over your shoulder just once more to see Joel climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. He effortlessly reverses from his driveway, and as if he can see you in his rearview mirror, he throws a hand out his open window in a short wave to you before he lurches down the street.

Pickup went smoothly, Sarah found you outside in the carpool lane and ran up to get into your SUV. Once she was buckled in securely, you drove out from the park district buildings, the adorably high-pitched voice of the seven-year-old in your backseat rambling off all of the activities that encompassed the first day of camp.

You ask her questions, hearing all about the nature explorations they went on, the other kids in her group, her counselors, and more. The conversation carried over from the car, to snacktime, and even into the scenarios that Sarah had her Barbies act out.

Hours flew past, and before you knew it, your phone buzzed shortly on the wooden coffee table. Setting the blonde Barbie in your hand to sit down with the others that Sarah was playing with, you grab your device and read the message from Joel:

On my way home — hope you two have been having fun

The message is straight to the point for the most part, but the slightest idea of him thinking about you this afternoon nests its way into your mind and your heart, igniting a kindling from inside you. Sure, he was probably nervous about your first day on the job and how Sarah would be getting along with you, but that was still a thought about you.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Small mannerisms of Sarah’s reminded you of the tiny observations you had made of Joel in your limited time together. A brow furrowed into a deep crease with playful annoyance when you had veered from the story that Sarah was telling with the Barbies, the small dimple in her right cheek when she giggled at something funny you said, the soft demeanor she kept when playing with her baby dolls — clearly mirroring the care her father showed her.

It was incredibly adorable. And also incredibly frustrating, as it meant that Joel had infiltrated your mind for the whole afternoon when you were hoping your time nannying would give you a reprieve from your little schoolgirl crush on your neighbor.

Clicking the buttons quickly, you shoot a text back to him before your attention is dedicated to Sarah again, who’s found her dress-up clothes in her closet from upstairs:

We’ve had a blast, at least I have :) See you soon!

You hit send before you can overthink the wording, your phone finding its place back on the living room table as you follow Sarah to the bathroom to look for her clips to do her “princess” hair.

As you place the last rainbow-colored clip in Sarah’s hair, the front door closes with a click. Boots tumble against the tile near the entrance, the sound pulling the little girl’s attention from the mirror, a smile beaming on her face as she runs to greet her dad.

“Hi, Daddy!”

A smile finds your own face as you follow out from the downstairs bathroom, watching as Joel grabs for his daughter, swinging her up into his arms to be held like a baby. His genuine grin tugs at your heart, the wholesome vignette playing out with a rose-colored tint in your eyes.

“Well hello there, Princess!” Joel sets her tiny frame down, bowing graciously in front of her before giving her a quizzical look, “Pardon me, Princess, but have you seen my daughter? She’s about yay high, pretty curls, killer smile. Responds to the name Bug, or Sarah.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you lean against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you look on. The sound pulls Joel’s eyes to meet yours briefly, a smile flashing with a wink before his faux confusion returns to his daughter in front of him.

Sarah’s giggles fill the room, her light voice informing her father between bouts of laughter, “Daddy, it’s me! I found my princess costume and we did my hair all pretty.”

A gasp from Joel cuts through the giggles, mock realization washing over his expression.

“Oh my goodness, it is you! Well, don’t you look pretty as a peach, Bug!” He presses a kiss to her forehead standing to his full height as Sarah runs into the kitchen to grab her artwork from camp that she’s been waiting to show off.

Joel’s gaze meets yours again, a warm smile raising one side of his mouth as his eyes glint with something that looks like a mix of exhaustion from work and relief to be home.

“Hope there wasn’t too much trouble with pickup or here at the house,” he pats his pockets with a concentrated look on his face, finally feeling what he was searching for and fishing it out of his dirt and sawdust-covered jeans, “I, uh, got this made on my lunch break. Figured it’s easier for you to have your own so that the emergency one can stay there. Lord knows Tommy or I need it too often for it to go missin’.”

He strides over to close the gap between the two of you, keeping about a foot and a half of space. His hand holds out the object, your smaller one extending your palm out to receive it. A gold key drops into your hand, your initials Sharpied on in his handwriting, and a rush of exhilaration tingles off of the metal and down your spine.

Joel’s fingers brush your skin as he pulls away, your stare lifting from the key to meet his. A smile pulls at your lips, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you speak up for the first time since he’s gotten home.

“Should I be expecting any late-night calls? Y’know, when you forget where the emergency one is or if Tommy’s lost it?”

One of his hands lifts to rub at the back of his neck, a slight cringe on his face as he chuckles.

“I have to say, I wouldn’t put it past me. But do not feel obligated to come ‘n help me, I promise I’ll survive a night sleepin’ in the truck. Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for waking you up, darlin’, just 'cause I was bein’ a dumbass.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for letting you have a bad night’s sleep, sir. I’d come at any time.”

Joel’s throat clears when Sarah’s rushed footsteps pad back into the room, large craft paper paintings in each of her hands.

“Here, look Daddy! I painted these today — my group leader said they were beautiful.”

Before both paintings end up in his hands, he lays a hand on your shoulder, completely enveloping it in his warmth and giving you a light squeeze. His eyes shift to the collar of your shirt and look away quickly before he nods toward the front door.

“Go on and head out, sweetheart. Don’t wanna keep you from any plans ya got. I’ve got a dinner for a Princess to whip up and museum-quality paintings to analyze.”

You're the one to break the eye contact he’s been holding, stepping away from his touch and feeling the chill of the air on your bare shoulder. Sneakers slip back on your feet, not bothering to do up the laces when you’re merely crossing your adjacent lawns to get home. Stopping short of the front door, you turn back to see Joel already staring, Sarah passionately explaining the painting that he is holding.

“Night, Sarah. Night, Joel. See you both tomorrow!”

“Have a good night, darlin’. Sleep well, see you tomorrow.”

His words wrap you in a cozy blanket, his drawl echoing in your mind as you send him one last smile before shutting the door and exhaling deeply.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

With his daughter asleep in her bed after an hour of reading chapters to her from the latest obsession, Matilda, Joel is relieved to finally have a moment to himself. He’d spent another hour of his evening in front of the TV, attempting to watch the rerun of the latest episode of The Sopranos, before he decided to call it a night and head to bed earlier than usual. It was only about ten o’clock, but Joel is usually one to stay up until at least midnight before he can shut his brain off from all of the stress he’s under day in and day out.

Taking care of Sarah, working long and laborious hours, and keeping his brother under his thumb so he doesn’t go off the deep end. And these days, he’s added the stress of behaving around you. His first glimpse of you the day he moved in made his heart rate pump faster, and when your mom suggested you as a nanny for Sarah, it excited him to be able to see you more and get to know you. He hadn’t thought about the close proximity he would constantly be in and the way you consumed his thoughts when he was away. And he definitely — no absolutely cannot act on the desires he feels towards you, especially as, well, your employer. It would be completely inappropriate. Your parents trusted him to give you a safe summer job, and he really doesn’t want to be driven out of his new home with torches and pitchforks if they found out what he thinks about you. What he wants to do to you.

It all gets to be too much, and tonight is a night that the exhaustion has caught up to him. He wants to relax — turn his brain off for a moment to be able to succumb to sleep, which is why he finds himself dragging his heavy limbs up the stairs to his bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him softly, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he crosses the room. Once the fabric is dropped off of his arms, he’s stood in front of his window, glancing out into the dim night with the glow of street lamps illuminating the sidewalks. Pulling his gaze back up and into his room, he does a double take at what he caught a flash of.

Your bedroom window.

He hadn’t noticed that he faced your room until this moment, probably from the late nights he’s accustomed to spending downstairs on the couch until the last possible second. You must always be asleep, or at least have your lights out when he climbs into bed.

Tonight, however, he can see in. He can see you.

And he feels like a fucking creep.

You're standing unknowingly exposed to him in your open window in your bra and panties, clearly getting changed to head to sleep. He sees the full view of the soft pink bra he’d spotted earlier today when a strap peeked out from the collar of your t-shirt. He felt like a perv staring at it then, imagining what the whole thing looked like against your skin, but this was a whole new level.

His legs are cemented in place while his brain is screaming at him to look away, to go to bed, and forget all about your baby pink bra and white lace-trimmed panties. All the while, he can feel the crotch of his jeans tightening as he watches on with wide eyes and saliva flooding his mouth as he voyeurs.

Yeah, his brain isn’t gonna win this one over his dick.

Your back is to the window now, and to him, having turned around to face the inside walls of your room, and your hands reach around to unclasp your bra. You let it slip from your shoulders, catching it at the ends of your arms and turning to the side to set it on your bed.

Warm yellow lamplight backlights you, the silhouette on display for him showing off the curves of your breasts and hips, the soft lace of your panties shining in the low light. Joel feels the strain of his jeans to the point of discomfort, and despite him feeling like a complete debauchee, he justifies his decision of what he’s about to do by telling himself that it’s a much better alternative to him succumbing to his desires to have you — it’s better to observe from afar and relieve some tension than it is to make you uncomfortable and lose his childcare for the summer.

Hands grip the back of the desk chair near him, sliding it up to the window and angling it to have a good view while being able to stay hidden. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before sitting in the chair, palming himself as he watches you move around your space without a shirt on.

He reaches into his boxers, pulling his cock out and letting it sit against his stomach as he continues to watch you. Precum dribbles onto the dark curls of his happy trail, the ache in him too strong to ignore. He spits in his hand and starts to stroke himself, a soft groan falling from his lips as he watches you move closer to the window, the night light illuminating you in a blue hue as you lean over whatever surface is in front of your window.

He watches as your breasts move from the motion, his hand speeding up as another moan slips from his mouth. He’s desperate to close his eyes and imagine you under him or on top of him, but he cannot draw himself to look away, especially when he sees a bottle of lotion in your hands.

You pump some out and start to apply it to your body, starting with your arms. He studies your hands gliding over your skin, rubbing and buffing the moisturizer in. You move back towards your bed, lifting your legs to massage the lotion in one at a time. He wishes he were there, kneeling next to you to get a view of your clothed cunt in the innocent white lace of your underwear. An image of what you could look like flashes in his head — wet, spread, and ready for him. He envisions his hands where yours are and your hand where he is working his cock, breath catching in his throat as you reach your breasts and abdomen.

Envy crawls in his chest, a growl sounding from his mouth as observes you getting to touch yourself in ways he’s been imagining since he met you. All he wants is to feel your soft skin pressed all over him, to feel either your hand, your mouth, or your sweet pussy (it has to be sweet, there’s no way it couldn’t be based on that syrupy voice of yours and those candied endearments towards everyone) wrapped around his cock instead of his own fist.

Your hands slip under the waist of your panties to moisturize the skin underneath there, and the vision of you so close to touching your own cunt sends his fist in a wild pace up and down his length, his head rolling back with a deep but restrained groan.

When you come back into view, you’ve got a t-shirt in your grip and his hand continues feverishly as he whispers, no whimpers, to himself, pleading with you to leave yourself bare for a moment longer.

“No, no, no, c’mon, darlin’. Only take a second, pretty please, baby,” his breaths come out heavy, the humidity of it adding to the sweaty stickiness across his body, “Fuck — Quiero metertela, quiero dartelo. (I want to put it in, I want to give it to you.) Gonna make me come just from lookin’ at you, you don’t even know. Such a pretty girl.”

As if you heard his begging, you drop the shirt onto the bed and climb onto it on your knees, bending over and supporting yourself with one hand as you reach for something at your nightstand that’s out of sight for him. He doesn’t even care to know what you could be preoccupied with, thankful for whatever the distraction was for making you get on (almost) all fours for him. At least, he thinks of it as for him, despite you not knowing exactly what he’s doing across the way.

The guilty thoughts of his depravity fall to the wayside as he gets closer to the edge, his mind racing with the phantom feeling of fucking into you from behind in the exact position he can see you in. The only sounds in his room are his labor breathing and the glide of him fucking his own hand, slaps of his arm hitting against his thigh repeatedly.

As if on cue, you sit back on your knees to give him a full view of your form again as he comes, your name rolling off of his lips. Short ropes of white spend coat his fingers as he slows through his orgasm, whimpering while his eyes screwed shut tightly. When they open again, he watches you slip the t-shirt over your head and shut your lamp off, leaving Joel sitting in the dark with only the streetlights casting enough illumination for him to see the mess he’s made of himself while being a Peeping Tom.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

series taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain cont'd in comments

#joel #me #writing #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tw voyeurism #cw voyeurism

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hanafubukki · 1 year ago

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So my friend said she was gonna date the next card she pulled and that gave me the brainworms tm

OT3 obv

But what is nrc did a raffle and had a date with mc up. Who buys tickets, who tries to rig it, and when did melanoa get here

Pls chaos to the max

[Masterlist]

Hello Ladyzsgolla🌻🌺🌷

Okay, but you need to tell me what card your friend pulled and who she ended up dating 😂🫶

Please, this brought back so many memories of the times where this type of trope would pop up in books and shoujo romances. The chaos is always always hilarious as it is and then we add in the diasomnia crew? NRC can’t catch a break.

The only way YN ended up in the auction is because Crowley somehow tricked them or set them up because I doubt certain people would let it happen.

At one point, I think diasomnia squad would be, “Want a date with YN? Fight me.”

You sighed as you stared at the chaos in front of you. You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, but you were sure Crowley had something to do with it.

Unsurprisingly, Sam and Fellow Honest had convinced the headmaster about having a festival to raise school funds. Azul had also supported the idea for monetary gain and knew what buttons to push.

But a date auction? With you? You wondered who came up with that daring idea.

Honestly, you were surprised at the amount of people trying to win a date with you, especially given your connections and your relationship status.

Though you wouldn’t be surprised if some didn’t know or were using this opportunity to get info about others. You were pretty sure some were doing it just for shits and giggles too.

Well you weren’t worried, at this point, the bets mostly came down to your friends and family having a higher chance of winning.

…you wondered if you can get a participation fee, after all, you were the main prize and you should be able to get some of that money.

You didn’t need it of course, but you wanted to see certain capitalists suffer.

Lilia: You think you can win against me? I have centuries worth of madol.

Meleanor: You mean the money that I paid you? I can freeze your accounts. That prized date will be mine.

Lilia: Meleanor! When did you get here! Stay out of this!

Meleanor: Do you know me at all?

Malleus: I do have some money saved. I can take YN on a gargoyle exploration. It’s been a while since I last had a stroll with them.

Dawn: …I do have money set aside during my days as a commander. The interest on it should have reached a sizable fund.

Levan: The steward is going to cry again.

The riggers:

Sam, Azul, and Fellow are going to figure out a way to sell more tickets despite the odds against others. I wouldn’t be surprised if certain charms and even magic was used.

Other Betters:

Floyd and Jade: I can see them getting just to make the pool larger lol

Rook: He might find this type of challenge fun, especially with such a prize. He also has the money for it.

Idia: it depends how close you are with him and the date he would like honestly. He might just not do it because of the potential headache.

Leona: literally just to mess with diasomnia.

Kalim: he is having fun and thinks it’s going to a good cause. Jamil has to stop him of course at one point.

That poor steward/accountant of Briar Valley 🫡🤣

#answered #🌺Ladyzsgolla🌺#twst knight of dawn #twst knight of dawn x reader #twst knight of dawn x reader x lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #the knight of dawn #lilia vanrouge #meleanor draconia #levan draconia #general lilia vanrouge

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

Airplane Mode Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley manages to secure a seat on your flight once again, he has to fight against the clock to make sure you understand he's sincere.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, swearing

Length: 2900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is part 2 of 2! Here is Part 1! Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley was just about to dock in Japan. He was so anxious to turn his phone on after nine days at sea. Not because of all of the junk mail and app update alerts, but because there was a small chance he had a text message from you waiting for him.

"Come on," he whispered, hoisting his backpack and small duffle higher onto his shoulders. But as his phone booted up, it was becoming obvious that there was nothing from you.

Bradley sighed. He had been hopeful where he shouldn't have been, and now he just felt disappointment.

He took a taxi to his hotel, got settled in his room with a huge platter of sushi, and then looked up tickets for a flight back to San Diego. His mission had been successful, but he was happy to have it completed.

His finger hovered over two flight options for the following day. He could leave in the morning and get back to his own bed faster. Or, he could get the flight that left Tokyo tomorrow evening and hope like hell that you were working. He knew the Navy would reimburse his economy ticket, but he wasn't taking any chances. He paid for the first class upgrade with his credit card; it would be worth every penny of the additional six hundred dollars just for the chance to look at you again. He selected the same spot next to the window, right across from the fold down seat.

Then he turned on the TV, found a Japanese soap opera, and pretended it was the same one you liked. And then he slept like a log, his body still not used to this time zone and the horrible beds he had been sleeping in. When he woke up, he got to the airport way earlier than was strictly necessary, so he drank some Japanese beers and bought himself a bunch of snacks to pass the time.

He was so antsy. And for what? Just to be disappointed? You had tucked his phone number in your pocket. Unless you had accidentally washed the napkin with your clothing, you had intentionally decided not to contact him. So even if he saw you again, it was going to be a strictly 'Bradley can look, but he may not touch' scenario. Because the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by becoming one of the creepy guys who probably ruined whole itineraries for you.

When it was time to scan his ticket and make his way aboard the waiting aircraft, he tried his best to relax. He was greeted by a male flight attendant, but he could see ugly loafers just below the curtain, and his heart skipped around. He quickly stowed his bags and took his seat, keeping his eyes on the curtain the entire time.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, the way you pushed the curtain aside. You were smiling and talking to the other flight attendant as your eyes drifted across the interior of the aircraft until your gaze settled on Bradley. He was frozen to the spot, watching your eyes flutter closed, your eyelashes brushing your cheeks. You bit your lip and grinned at him.

"Welcome aboard, sir. Can I get you anything before we take off?" you asked him, repeating the exact words you had spoken to him last time.

You just laughed as you took a step closer to him. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he whispered as he looked up at you. "I haven't stopped thinking about you in the last ten days."

Your lips parted in surprise. "Oh?"

Bradley nodded and really took a good look at you. You had styled your hair differently today, but everything else was just the same. His memory hadn't done justice to the soft curve of your cheeks or the shape of your lips. In person, you were a work of art.

You stepped further out of the aisle as more passengers shuffled along, coming to stand so close to Bradley, that he had to look way up to see your face. "I may have looked up the passenger manifest for this flight last night," you told him with a teasing tone to your voice. "And I may have picked up this flight instead of flying back tomorrow. I was hoping you were Bradshaw comma Bradley."

"That's me. Bradshaw comma Bradley. And I claimed the best seat in the house." His heart was skipping along to an unknown song, a new one that he would love to play on his piano for you. "But you didn't text me."

"Ah, no. I did not," you replied, taking a small step away from him. You looked embarrassed now. "I wasn't sure you really expected me to. Thought maybe you charm a different flight attendant on all of your trips."

Bradley's eyes went wide. He had come on too strong last time. Made it seem like he did this shit on a regular basis. His heart was still pounding, but the song was far less pleasant now.

"You think any other flight attendant is half as lovely as you are?"

You just shrugged and smirked at him. "I don't know. You tell me." You turned to greet some more passengers, leaving Bradley staring at your backside.

"Don't be a creep," he muttered to himself as his eyes drifted down your legs and settled on your loafers again. And to his dismay, someone took the aisle seat next to him; the flight was completely sold out. How was he supposed to flirt with you this time, while seated next to a stern looking man who was reading the Wall Street Journal. And this time you had to divide your attention between the two men while you did your safety briefing about the exit row.

Bradley had to wait until everyone was settled and you were getting into your fold down seat for take off, before you even looked at him again. As soon as Wall Street Journal dude put some earbuds in, Bradley sighed in relief. "I can guarantee they are not."

You gave him a puzzled look.

"The other flight attendants. None of them are even half as lovely. I've never once flirted with any of them. None except you. I haven't given my phone number to a woman in months. You even got me thinking about your loafers. And I was kind of crushed when I turned my phone on at the docks and only had emails from my great-aunt Sandy to read."

It looked like you were trying not to laugh, and Bradley could physically feel himself striking out with you. But then you softly said, "You were so smooth. Got a little scared."

As the plane lifted off, Bradley smiled. "But you checked the flight manifests."

"I did," you agreed, tucking your face to the side in embarrassment.

"Do you still have my number?"

Your eyes popped up to meet his. "Saved in my phone. As Bradshaw comma Bradley."

His smile grew in size. "I watched a Japanese soap opera last night. Not sure if it was the one you like, and I was very confused about how the characters knew each other, but I'm a little bit obsessed with it already."

You took a deep breath as the plane reached cruising altitude. "So you don't just flirt with everybody?"

"Of course not," he answered immediately.

"And if I texted you to see if you wanted to hang out next week when I have time off?"

His eyes went a little wide. "I would drop everything."

"Okay," you said with a smile as you stood to help someone who called for you, and your knees brushed against his leg.

Bradley's eyes followed you before settling on Wall Street Journal dude who was already looking at him.

"Nice one, son," he told Bradley with a nod of his head.

A laugh escaped Bradley. "Literally unbelievable, right?"

"Quite," he replied before turning his gaze back to his newspaper.

Bradley settled himself against his seat, listening for your voice as he occasionally heard you over the sounds of the plane and passengers. He knew of a decent sushi place near his house with a takeout menu. He'd figure out how to get Japanese shows on his TV at home. He could already picture how you would look on his couch. He wondered if you wore your loafers with jeans.

You didn't take Bradley's drink order, rather you delivered him an unprompted cosmopolitan with his dinner. And when you brought him a second one as it was getting later and darker, your fingers met his.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you. I wanted to."

He grinned as you collected his dinner tray along with Wall Street Journal dude's tray; he had dozed off with his meal half eaten.

"You can make it up to me by texting me when we land so I can have your number."

You nodded and rolled your eyes. "I'll make it up to you. Now stop flirting and let me work. The guys in 3C and 3D are a handful."

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "Is there a guy giving you a hard time?" He was already about to stand up, but you planted your palm on his chest and eased him back against his seat.

"No. Nothing like that," you promised. "God, you're sweet."

Bradley just gaped up at you, so close he could feel your breath on his cheek as you let your fingers trail up to the collar of his Top Gun sweatshirt. When you grazed the scar on his neck with your fingertip, he was practically panting.

"You'll tell me if they get out of hand?" he asked, voice deep and raspy.

"You gonna rush in and protect me?" you asked as you released him to continue gathering up the trays.

"I told you I would flex for you, Baby."

You actually giggled as you collected the rest of the dishes and shot Bradley a wide eyed look. "You sure did." Then you were gone, behind that curtain and out of his sight.

It was getting late, but Bradley wasn't tired in the least. He was currently dedicated to watching you shuttle dinner trays and glasses back to the galley as each first class passenger seemed to be dozing off. Every time you passed his row, you smiled at him.

When you didn't emerge for quite some time, Bradley stood and stepped gingerly over his sleeping seatmate and made his way toward the lavatory. He paused at the curtain, which had been left open several inches. You were standing in the small galley, stacking the catering trays and depositing them into the slotted metal cart. He watched you work for a few beats, your movements methodical, your expression a little dreamy. He was hoping he was the cause of that.

Bradley pulled the curtain aside a few more inches, and you turned to face him, an expression of professional caution fell into place that immediately melted away again. "Bradshaw comma Bradley. Welcome to my office."

He laughed and ducked his large form inside the galley with you, letting the curtain fall mostly closed behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just on my way to the restroom."

Bradley was silenced as you set down the last tray and then reached for the front of his sweatshirt, bunched the fabric up in your fist, and used it to pull him closer to you. When your lips brushed against his in the sweetest kiss, it sent him reeling. As you started to pull away, he dipped his head closer to yours, and you kissed him a little harder.

"Lavatory is that way," you whispered, your nose brushing his mustache as you pointed to Bradley's left.

"Oh. Right." He wanted to keep kissing you, but when you released your hold on his sweatshirt, Bradley backed out of the curtained off area and let himself into the tiny bathroom. He looked in the mirror to see that his cheeks were flushed and he was grinning.

He washed his hands and did his best to fix his hair and straighten out his clothing, and when Bradley walked past the galley again, you were waiting for him.

He drank you in from head to toe, loving the way your hip was leaning against the counter as you traced your lower lip softly with your fingertips. With wide eyes and parted lips, you reached for him at the same time he tucked himself inside the small space and pulled the curtain closed.

Your lips mashed against his, and Bradley groaned as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It took him a second to get his hands on you, but when he did, you melted into him. He ran his hands softly from your hips to your waist, wrapping them around you and pulling you closer.

Bradley had goosebumps as you raked your fingers down the back of his neck, and you were nibbling on his lower lip, teasing him with your tongue.

You pulled away from his lips with a soft gasp, but you continued to stroke your fingers along his neck and through his hair. "I've never done anything like this before."

But you didn't even give him a chance to respond before you were kissing him again, softer this time, your nose bumping his as you nipped at his lips.

"Shit," Bradley gasped, squeezing your waist as your lips drifted over his cheek and across his jaw. "I'm about to go bankrupt following you from San Diego to Japan every week."

You laughed and started to back out of his grasp. "I'm sorry I didn't text you. It's the first thing I'm going to do when we land."

Bradley licked his lips, already missing the feel of you as he released your waist.

"You should go sit down before I get in trouble," you whispered, running your fingertips across your lips again. "You're definitely trouble, Bradshaw comma Bradley."

But Bradley stroked your cheek with his thumb until you dropped your hand from your lips, and he kissed you one more time.

"Nah, I'll be good for you."

He laughed as you shoved him out of the galley, and he made his way back to his seat. Patiently he sat and waited, and soon you were silently folding down your seat and tucking your knees between his long legs, like they belonged there.

Bradley leaned forward and held out his palm. When you let first your fingers and then your entire hand press against his, he whispered, "I'm taking you out for lunch when we land."

"Are you?" you asked, laughing softly.

"Yeah. I'm dying for a first date."

You were silent for a beat before you said, "I'm free."

Bradley held your hand until the sun started to brighten the cabin. You bustled around, taking care of everyone until it was time to land. And when the plane was firmly on the ground, Bradley watched you pull your phone out of your pocket.

"I'm turning off airplane mode, and then I'm going to text you," you promised.

Bradley scrambled to turn his phone on as well, and when a text arrived with your last name and first name separated by a comma, he saved you to his contacts and smiled as you stood to help passengers with their bags.

Once again, Bradley waited until everyone else deboarded ahead of him, preferring to stay and watch you next to the rest of the crew. He wanted to kiss you, but he forced himself to leave after you told him, "Thanks for flying with us."

---------------------------

You took your time cleaning up and organizing the first class galley and disinfecting the space. As soon as Bradley had deboarded he texted you back, asking if you would like to get sushi for lunch with him. Of course you would. You'd been thinking about him since you first laid eyes on him ten days ago.

And the kisses! What had come over you! It was so unprofessional! But you couldn't seem to help yourself. He was so big and handsome. He smelled good, and he kept looking at you like you were perfect. A girl can only handle so much chemistry before something boils over.

You would kiss him again as soon as you saw him. That was already settled.

After grabbing your bag and your badge, you deboarded, telling the captain you'd see him again in a few days, and you glided up the jetway with a smile on your lips. When you exited out into the terminal and saw Bradley waiting for you next to a kiosk that sold sunglasses, your smile erupted into a giggle.

"Are you waiting for me?" you asked when you were close to him.

"Of course," he replied with a bright smile, and you dropped the handle of your bag and wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close as you kissed him, and when the kiosk owner yelled at the two of you for bumping his display, Bradley took you by the hand.

"Let's go get some sushi and get to know each other better."

You walked with him out into the San Diego heat, hand in hand.

-----------------------

Thanks for reading! Hope you loved it! Thanks again to @bradshawsbitch for the insider scoop and for being lovely!

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

Note

WIBTA for mentioning college again to my online friend, despite her telling me she knows it's not for her/not making a decision about it right now?

We both turned 18 this year, and are in our last years of highschool, and hopefully will both graduate this year! We met two years ago, and call and play games together sometimes, send each other selfies, share our silly crushes—she's the best girl friend I have right now and im very grateful for her.

Some info about me: both of my parents grew up very low income and from rough places and got full scholarships/a deal(like they pay for your college, and then you work for them after), because of this they're financially doing much better than both their families(my mother regularly sending money back home to pay for surgeries , bills, etc.). All of this is to say I've been raised with the mindset that higher education is my ticket to bettering my life, and I take school very seriously. I live in an area with a lot of immigrants, and all my friends do plan on going to college. Here is my disclaimer that I know college is *not* for everyone, and you do not need to go to college to be successful. But my friend is in the same stage in life as me, and I think it could be beneficial for her. She's not the best student at all(also home-schooled and does online schooling), but she's passing all her classes. We've talked about it before and I've asked if she's thought about college, and she said no because everyone in her family who went was just left with debt. Additionally she's not motivated in school now, so she doesn't think she would be motivated in college and would just end up as a "money dump". She's also talked about college with her mom, who said that she was only 18 and didn't need to make decisions about it right now. Right now her plan is to get a minimum wage job after high school(she's mentioned a fast food chain). I do think it would be good for her to get out of the house because right now she's basically stuck at home because her mom doesn't like going places. To my knowledge she has no friends irl, because of the homeschooling. Which is one of the reasons why I think college would be great for her--the chance to be with other people your own age.

We've only talked about college one time where I just asked, and after that I haven't mentioned it because I don't want to act like I have any say in her life decisions or make her feel bad. I've just been thinking about it lately because logically to me it seems like if she did want to go to college, now would be the best time because she would have the support of her online school where she has a counselor. Her mom didn't go to college and she isn't in regular contact with her dad.

For more context my family is middle class and I'm not sure what her financial situation is, but I do know comfortable but not deeply so. I would hate to bring up college if it's something she knows she cant afford( but long term I think going to college would help her make more money than any job she started now, which is why Im thinking about bringing it up again). I don't know if this is enough context, and I'm willing to provide more! I'll admit I'm not the smartest teen out there, so if you see any thing wrong with my thinking or think I'm a total asshole please tell me and I'll check my behavior. Im also keeping in mind her lack of motivation that she mentioned she had in school, and of course her mental health and wellbeing is of like. the utmost importance.

so, would I be the asshole for bringing up college with her again, despite knowing her situation? I really love this friend and the last thing I would want to do with her is be disrespectful and insensitive. thank you for very much, Tumblr! any advice you can give in the comments would be greatly appreciated.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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lesbiancarat · 2 months ago

Text

you know what makes me the most mad is that in 2020 there were so many people saying that this would be good for seventeen's careers, it would give them more money and more opportunities to promote, especially in the west. and i'll be honest, i didn't care about that then and i don't care about it now. what a lot of people failed to realize at the time is that, even if things end up being fine for seventeen, doesn't mean the same is true of the fans

of course I want seventeen to do well. but i'll be honest, i only care about them doing well insofar as it means they're well off enough financially to be stable and support themselves and their families, and to be popular enough that they can keep making music for a long time. anything above that i could take or leave, and if taking it means having a shitty fandom experience, i'd rather leave it. and i don't want to create a false dichotomy here, i'm not someone who believes that success is synonymous with having an unhealthy fandom. but i'm tired of kpop fans acting like the fans' interests, OUR interests, are always the same as our artists' interests

and the truth is, the fandom experience over the last 4 years HAS gotten worse. merch has gotten vastly more expensive, we're constantly being advertised to about it, even though half the merch is crap anyway. albums have gotten more expensive without necessarily being higher quality, and you have to pay a membership fee just for the chance of getting presale, or the CHANCE to get access to a special event attached to a concert you already paid tickets for

money aside, there's also the fact that going seventeen and other seventeen contents on youtube NEVER used to have midroll ads, now it's not unusual to have 3 or more midroll ads in a single video. they also seem to fail to understand aspects of seventeen's brand, the caratbong V3 was such a fail because it felt like it aligned more the "hybe brand" of being sleek, black, and modern, while completely disregarding the seventeen brand of rq&s

there have also genuinely been so many more fandom wars in caratland since the hybe acquisition, there was a noticeable difference immediately after the announcement, and it has not died down. this is obviously not intentional on hybe's part, and i'm not going to blame this on any one fandom, because carats have also been more combative since that time. but i do see the hybe acquisition as a clear cause, because it forced fandoms that were not used to it to share space. it made fandoms more aware of each other's presence, and that's always going to create tension. and it exacerbated any pre-existing tensions between fandoms

in a similar vein, there's been more discourse within the fandom since the hybe acquisition too. over the last several years, every comeback there's been discourse about how much influence hybe did or didn't have over the music, the concept, the merch, whether the acquisition was worth it or if it was the end of the world. regardless of where you stand on each of those things, you can't deny how many fandom arguments there have been over the last 4 years purely centered around hybe. you can't deny that hybe is much more devisive

and yes, before hybe, fandom wars existed. despite carats' "peaceful" reputation it did happen. there were times pre-hybe that carats weren't satisfied with the merch, like the time they tried to sell replicas of seventeens rings. there was sometimes even discourse about how much pledis had meddled with woozi's vision of their music. but trust me as someone who was in the fandom pre-hybe, that these things have become so much more prevalent since after the acquisition

there's also the fact that under hybe, us fans have far less influence than we did with pledis. with pledis we were able to successfully scare them into not releasing the ring replicas, we were able to successfully boycott the getting closer MV when pledis wanted to start uploading seventeen's MVs to the pledis channel instead of the seventeen channel, which had more subscribers. tell me, how many decisions have been made under hybe that made carats angry, and among those, how many were carats able to successfully convince hybe to change their approach on? because personally i can't think of one. hybe has many other lucrative streams of revenue. they aren't scared by threats

and now here we are with seventeen collaborating with an artist none of us asked for, who stands against the values that many of us hold, and we're expected to just support it anyway? because it's seventeen?

tl;dr the fandom experience of carats has gotten worse overall since the hybe acquisition, and carats should be angry about it, regardless of if seventeen themselves seem to be doing well

#melia.txt #i might delete this later but i am just really frustrated #i've been frustrated about these things for 4 years and i've been trying to ignore it and just have a good time #i know i've ranted about h*** before #maybe even made some of these exact points before #but its just all coming to the surface lately

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live-emotion · 2 months ago

Note

I'm new here! What's the best LP option to use for this new event? (Reiji and Otoya) I'm still stuck gaining 500 points for 1 time play with 2 LP, i want to gain more points...

Welcome!! Apologies in advance for the long reply!

Generally, the most efficient LP usage is 2 LP. For both 1 and 2 LP, you get the same rate of event points rewards (10x for 1 LP, and 20x for 2 LP) but past that the higher you use, you get diminishing returns for event points and general reward drops. 3-5 LP are still pretty good, but not as efficient. 3 LP gives 29x, 4 LP gives 38x, and 5 LP gives 46x.

Of all the options, 10 LP is the least efficient with returns of only 75x. Having said that, of course if you only have time to play one or two songs, then using 5 or 10 LP is better than not playing at all.

Disclaimer that I may be missing some tips since I myself havent been playing 100% efficiently either, but heres some extra tips:

Emotional Pieces / Team composition Tips:

Use pieces with an event bonus skill on all of your teams regardless of attribute.

Level up and idolise pieces with an event bonus as much as you can whenever you get another copy of them. In this case its the racing gacha Eiichi and Kira, and the event Reiji and Otoya. You can 'idolise' pieces by filling out the top line of their Piece Board and reading all of their story.

Guest Tips:

Choose guests with the highest event skill bonus for live shows. You can see the percentage they boost event points by in pink above their right title. Eg. 'ライブで盛られるイベントポイントを40％アップ' meaning it 'raises the received event points by 40%.’

You can reset guests using the 'ゲスト更新' button in the top left when choosing a guest to find the best one. Its a bit tedious, but getting a 40, 60, or higher percentage bonus every time really adds up.

Use your event bonus (glowstick) items to raise event points when you use guests with the super high event bonus skills. I saw an Eiichi with 100% bonus yesterday which was awesome.

Live Tips:

Make sure you're playing the event songs.

It seems best to play on the highest difficulty that you can most consistently full combo. Getting an S combo on normal is likely better than getting a C combo on expert.

Skip tickets used to be not worth much, but after some changes they now give only slightly less than playing manually so they're much more valuable. Thanks to @blueesnow for the comparison!

Only use auto if you can't play yourself and don't want to use skip tickets. If you are auto-ing a song, auto it on expert to get more points (I think).

If you lose your combo you can always exit a song by pressing the button in the top right corner, then pressing left button, then the right button to confirm. You don't lose any LP or items spent on the song. Especially useful if you've used a lot of LP or an event bonus item and don't want it to go to waste.

Play the song that you get the most event points for. In this event, Song Letter generally will give the highest amount of event points. You could also: a. Play a song with the same attribute as applicable pieces with event bonus skill. There are pieces with event bonus for each attribute this time. Playing the two Fresh (yellow) event songs will up the chance of seeing a high event bonus Eiichi guest (plus 80% or plus 100% event points). *I'm unsure how much/if the attribute of the guest bonus skill affects event points gained. b. Play the shortest song to save time.

Other Tips:

Use items marked with a pink speech bubble that reads 日限定 before they expire daily at midnight Japan time.

There are event missions for clearing each event song 3 and 5 times. These missions can be cleared by using 0 LP. They reward LP Charges and Event Bonus items. The LP Charges must be used the day that you claim them from the missions screen, so you may want to wait to claim them until you're sure you have time to use them.

Set pieces with event bonus skill your guest helpers in Menu>Player Detail>ゲスト設定>Pick one per attribute using the 変更する button. This doesn't help you, but its common courtesy since they will be your guest helpers for other players.

If you have time, it may be wise to wait until later in the event to use your event bonus (glowstick) items. By that point you'll have higher leveled event cards to use in your teams, and there'll be more guest players with high event bonus skills.

Follow guests you see with high event bonus skills so theyre more likely (?) to show up as a guest for live shows.

#live emotion #event #tips #ask

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technically-a-kiwi · 3 months ago

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The Meeting

Normally the Cosmic Tower gang kept to their own kind. The other Cosmic entities tended to be weird around them. Intentionally or not, they made the mottled group feel like they didn't belong. After all, they were far more whacky than their serious shining peers. Especially the higher-ups.

Every time they stood next to some other Cosmic, they felt like a mistake.

So they mostly kept to the others like themselves. Noise might be insufferable and whatever was in the ticket booth might be a bit alarming, but it was better than being silently judged by some eldrich horror. They kept to themselves, and the others just let them do their own thing.

Normally.

One particular universe had caught Pizzahead's interest on this fateful day. He had always been fascinated by the Tower in every one. There was always a Tower. If not now, then sometime in the past or future. He loved watching them; a vibrant ecosystem, almost a universe itself in one building!

He watched with intense interest this particular one. He had become invested in the fight between two grey humans - one in a lab coat, one in detective garb - when he felt a painful flare of cosmic power jolt through his body. He jumped forward a couple dozen light-years and then turned around in shock. Another Cosmic entity was standing at the edge of the universe, glaring angrily. "Hey, Wile E! You're in MY territory!"

Pizzahead cleared his throat nervously. He hadn't encountered a "proper Cosmic" in centuries. "My sincerest apologies! I hadn't quite realized how far from home I - YIKES!" Another blazing bolt of pure energy crackled by his head. "OK! I'M MOVING! I'M MOVING!" he screamed, trying to shuffle out of the way. No dice. The other Cosmic lunged at him and grasped the celestial toon by his neck.

"You don't belong here!" he shouted. Pizzahead struggled to loosen his grip. "Then why won't you let me leave...?" he gasped. The proper Cosmic tightened his grip, snarling. "None of you deserve Cosmic power, you least of all!" As Pizzahead was thrown across the starry field, images of countless other Pizzaheads flashed before his eyes, none of them good. But that couldn't be HIM, right?

He managed to get himself standing upright and faced his assailant again, putting up his dukes and bouncing comically. "So that's it? All right then, square up, you - " Pizzahead crumpled like a sheet of paper before he could even get a shot off. He struggled to get up, but it suddenly felt like he was swimming through molasses. The next bolt only lasted a few seconds, but the pain on impact felt like it lasted a hundred times that. He curled up into a ball, wincing.

"I'm like 80% sure you're not supposed to do something like this," he hissed. He could never directly quote any of the rules but he was pretty sure there was one about serious fighting. His opponent leaned down and grinned.

"No one will notice you're gone. Not even your own kind."

Pizzahead whimpered. He hadn't done anything wrong. This guy obviously had a much better handle on his powers than him - Pizzahead hadn't even considered being able to distort time like that! He knew he didn't stand a chance alone. But it was just them two for light-centuries, or so it seemed. He braced himself for whatever came next.

"What in the - " Pizzahead's eyes snapped open when he heard his assailant shout. Stars and galaxies were clustering around him, forming a sparkling sort of makeshift shield. A strange voice came from the universe. "Enough..." It sounded like it had never spoken before that moment. The proper Cosmic started, then scoffed. "A sentient universe? Cute." He waved his hand to one side. "Get out of the way! You are nothing compared to me!" A galaxy wrapped around Pizzahead's hand. "You're on a power trip," the universe stated.

This infuriated the other Cosmic. He prepared the biggest attack he had used yet as he screamed, "That's IT! I gave you a chance to save yourself! You're in MY territory, so I can do WHATEVER I WANT TO YOU!" Pizzahead pushed some of his cosmic power into the universe, not really knowing what he was doing but not wanting all these innocent worlds to come to harm because of him.

The brilliant bolt ricocheted off of the celestial shield and came right back at their attacker. Now it was the proper Cosmic's turn to run away scared, shouting, "I'M REPORTING THIS!" Pizzahead retorted, "YOU STARTED IT!" The universe that he had protected separated itself from him, and he winced as he saw that his power had affected it. It looked for all the world like a floating mustachioed pizza creature. It smiled at Pizzahead.

Pizzahead shuffled in his shoes. "Thanks for trying to protect me. You didn't have to do that," he said, looking down at his feet. A galactic trail touched his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. He's been a pain for a while." The universe looked at itself. "I've... I've been wanting to approach you for a long time." Pizzahead jumped. "Really?" "Yes. You and your friends seem like you'd be the only Cosmics to take me seriously. And well... I guess you did."

Pizzahead looked his new friend up and down. Some subconscious memory was tugging at the back of his mind. Perhaps...? "Well, at any rate, you can't stay here. Wanna crash at my place?" Pizzaface smiled hopefully. "I'd like that."

@chaotichyperfixations been thinking about this all morning and wanted you to see too

Ooooh didn’t expect a full story to come up in my mail today… It’s brilliant !

also I really like how you wrote everything ! clearly you understand the word our Cosmic cast lived in Lawful cosmic.

And Pizzaface’s story here is so cute ! Could work for a lawful cosmic alt story since here Pizzaface isn’t NEARLY as full of himself as he should be.

Anyway, all I wanna say is thank you for taking the patient to write this 🤗! It’s lovely and I had a wonderful time reading it :)

#pizza tower #cosmic au #pizzaface #pizzahead #Lawful cosmic

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khanaclysm · 2 years ago

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You've always seemed to love annoying grave's maybe you'll like his cock buried in your throat more.

𝐂𝐖 ; power imbalance (?),7 year age gap, blowjobs, creampie, choking, slapping, marking, slight misogyny, older man/younger woman, sir kink,mentioned breeding, exhibitionism/public sex, voyeurism (?).

𝐅𝐓. Phillip graves

𝐏𝐍: I hate him so much, but I wanna fuck him so bad. It's not even funny. 1.6 𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

"One chance commander, that's all you have.Dismissed." shepherd said not paying him any time off day as he walked out of shepherds office.

He lets out a sigh he didn't know he held, back braced against the wall. In the dead of night absolutely no sound travels through the building , he thanks whatever higher being there is for that.

Graves continues to enjoy the silence and scenery of the ever so bright cement walls. Not for long though, as heels clank along the title floor.

"I'm not fucking dealing with this right now."

He makes his way to his cot but you start walking faster, he eventually comes to a stop accepting his cruel faith, something deep inside him yearns for him to stop. Faint humming can be heard in the distance.

Tiny pink dress, white heels, a walking dress code violation you sure are. Respect yourself more, your someone's daughter, he thinks. Disgusted by your outfit he refuses to look at you any longer and he refuses to be like them. Men who stare at your tits, and admire your shape like some sort of trophy to be won. Clearly you need to be brought back down to earth with an attitude check. And the fact these men would dare to entertain your low key prostitution like lifestyle is degrading and derogatory.

"Hello Phillip, how might you help me this fine hour?" His name sounds revolting coming from your lips, your plump pink soft annoying fucking lips.

"Genuinely, what do you want from me?" God your name sounds so good coming from him, it makes the lower area of your stomach heat and tighten.

I want you.

"Makin' fun of you is the only fun a woman can have in this place." You say, tits dangerously close to his torso, if you get any closer both of you'll be in a lot of trouble.

He rolls his eyes not daring to look at you, the Starbucks latte adrenaline (sugar rush) hits you like a truck.

His lack of response bores you, so you push further, literally your boobs are pressed against his rock hard chest. Due to his casual clothing your nipples can feel every vein, dip curve and mark. Creates a pleasurable sensation that you want more of, need more of.

He finally looks at you not with pure disgust, but one with a warning. Blue eyes piercing, becoming darker by the second. "You need some fucking discipline lessons."

You push your entire body against him, you know you've secured your one way ticket to whatever graves likes to call "discipline".

You look at him with prettiest bambi eyes that almost sparkle, even without a light source in this damned hall way. What a wolf in sheep's clothing you are.

"Hm, and how will that happen phillip?" You inquire.

It's almost as if you can hear something snap, his hand grip you waist in away that will surely fucking bruise, you know it's on purpose.

"With a cock down that fucking throat." The statement shocked both you and him as if he never meant to say it, as if something's controlling his mouth and actions.

"What if that's what I want?" You ask a question that you do not expect to be answered. Yet he does.

"Oh I know, bet shepherd would be pretty upset if he heard his pretty little daddy's girl was slutting her pussy out for the shadow company?"

"Well I- '' your witty remarks are put to hold,as a firm, big hand grips your hair and forces you onto your knees. You like this side of graves, the ones people below him always see. Not bitchy boot licking graves, but dominating and violent graves. Heat pools in between your legs, pretty pink panties soaking up your sticky mess. Not for long.

"You have hands, use em'." You've only come to notice how damn attractive southern accents can be, or maybe it's just him.

You begin to unzip his pants, a sound you've always wanted to hear from his pants. Black briefs meet your face and so does his thick cock.

You go to engulf it all, wanting to test yourself but a strong large palm stops you from doing so.

"Eager to please are we? Go slow, swirl the tip." He stated.

Maybe you should feel bad for having a man tower over you and shove you in front of his cock, but it made you feel something, instinctual, is the only word to describe it.

You move your tongue in a circular pattern around his sensitive tip, which earns you a soft breathy sigh. Unknowingly to him his grip tightens.

You roll your tongue over his cock, trying to take him deeper, ⅓ of the way. "Mmm, good girl, just fucking like that angelface." The praise felt good, sending shock waves down your body leading straight to your now dripping pussy.

Staring at him with glossy glazed eyes, he was so aggressive without even moving an inch like you could sense the power and ego radiat of his body.

"Keep going, I know that sluty fucking mouth of yours can take more." He shoves your head down further down his cock making you gag, as of now spit is dripping from your pretty lips right onto the floor. Your hands flash to his thighs trying to prevent him from going any further but his hands force you down, god you panties must be drenched at this point.

He makes you deep throat his cock, the lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, your head feels like it could collapse in itself. Harsh hands tug your hair giving you a bit of time to breathe, just to force your tight throat onto him.

"Fuck, gonna pump that pretty little throat, yea angel?" You can physically feel his cock twitch, his dick consistently pressing against the back of your throat.

Hot loads of sticky white fluid gets dumped in your mouth, the warmth of the cum is almost comforting. Until shepherd's office door opens. He stops all movement signalling you to be quiet.

"Commander, what are you still doing here?" Your father inquired, completely unaware that his daughter was choking on one of his best soldier's cock, cum dripping from her lips.

"Ah ha, nothing sir, just thinking." You can't hold him much longer, his semen resting on your tongue becomes unbearable by the second.

"Hopefully of strategies." Your dad blindly states heading back into his office. When the door closed you were immediately let off his dick.

"Aw, you cryin' pretty? Cock too big for you?" He mocks. Too focused on not making a sound you didn't even notice the crystal tears running down your cheek meeting your saliva on the floor.

"Think it's time for me to use that pussy, huh?" Without a word he pushes over his shoulders, little effort needed though you're not surprised you've seen him 200kg no issue.

He throws you onto his bed, he's so hot when he manhandles you, god he's just hot in general.

"Strip." You stare at him for a few seconds wondering if you heard him right. "Unless you want them ripped off?" You got to work first pulling off your shoes then came your dress.

"Your daddy know you dress like this?" You giggle at his comment pulling off your bra then your panties which are now embarrassingly drenched.

"Knew you were a slut, you get off on this don't you?" He inquired but you know, you don't need to answer that in fact you know he'd prefer if you just sat pretty waiting for your pussy to be filled.

"Condom?" You ask. He laughs a bit,but you don't find it that funny.

Suddenly your pushed onto his bed, ass in the air pussy sprawled out for anyone to see. Lord did he even lock the fucking door?

"Don't think you understand, to be disciplined you have to be reformed." You look at him with questioning unsure eyes. "God your fucking stupid, I mean I'm going to turn into a mommy, you'd like that huh, me breeding you, filling you with my kids?"

You fill the tip of his cock slide you and down your cunt, lubricating it with your own arousal. He slips it in stretching your hole to astronomic levels, you let out a blissful moan into his pillows that smell just like him, they carry the same pleasant musk he does.

He begins moving, tight walls clenching on him so desperately it's almost cute. Hands on your hips surly to leave a mark, he comes down closer to your level, sucking on your neck and back to leave the faintest bruises.

"Fuck– Have fun wearing your sluty little dresses." In fact he wants to bruise you more to make you remember your lesson. His hand smacks down your ass, sending strikes of electrifying pleasure down your body.

You can feel his dick twitching inside of you as your clit does the same. "Oh god- i- sir, can I please cum, Ah- pretty fucking pl- please!"

"Good girl, you learn quickly," he thinks about his decision. "Go ahead, cun on my cock pretty girl." The tightness in your core realises with a snap, holds you down as you shake on his cock. He admires the white translucent ring around his dick.

A few more strokes and you feel the comfort of warm white liquid just pouring into you without fail. "Same time, same place tomorrow?" He knows he shouldn't, he knows he's in the wrong but he just can't, a fucking minx you are. You nod in agreement.

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captaincapsicle83 · 9 months ago

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At First Sight ○○ Bucky Barnes x reader

Pairings: Natasha x reader (platonic), Wanda x reader (platonic), Clinton x reader (platonic), Bucky x reader

Plot: Your roommates set you up on a date with their coworker, and you two hit it off right away. (Most of this story is silly little platonic fun, but I like it anyway).

(The little gif of him drinking water is funnier after you read the story)

“He has a cat.”

“Well, whoop-di-do,” You huff monotonously. Wanda scrunches up her nose at you, before sighing and shaking her head.

“I think you should go,” She says. You risk rolling your eyes, even though she could very well kill you, then and there.

“‘I think you should go’” You say, making your voice go higher, in a mocking tone. “If he’s so great, you go. I have a ton of work to do.”

Just last year, you landed a teaching position. It had been in May, and you were given hardly any time at all to prep. School started again in a week, and even though you’d been preparing loosely all summer, this week you were locked in.

So why the hell did Wanda need you to go on a stupid date?

“If you don’t go, there’s a good chance you’ll die alone,” She crosses her arms, eyebrows raised.

“You’re here, and so is Natasha,” You point out, finally putting your laptop to the side, and uncrossing your legs, stretching them out.

“What about when we go get married and have lives, and have jobs, and you just…die of boredom,” What was this a Sims game? Was she gonna lock you in a room with a radio next? Put the walls up around a pool?

“Clint’ll be here. Poor little shit’s never getting married. No one wants the little scrapper,” You pull your coffee mug to your lips. You must’ve left it idle longer than intended, because instead of warm, silky, and smooth, it was starkly cold, and felt thin beyond your lips.

“You want him?” Her eyes were annoyed, but her face was bemused.

“He’s low maintenance,” You shrug.

“Who?” Someone says, coming through the front door with an armload of groceries, and a red-haired friend behind them. While Clint had about ten plastic bags of things, Natasha sipped an iced coffee from a straw, looking awfully unbothered.

“Why does she still look homeless Wanda?” Nat questioned. “You said you were gonna drag her kicking and screaming.”

“We were getting there.”

Four people in one New York apartment, in upper Manhatten. It was expensive as high hell, but you all made it work.

So why am I gonna put my job on hold for something stupid as this-

You’re sitting on Wanda’s bed, Natasha’s fingers in your hair, Wanda in her closet, and Clint tasked with the job of “make-up artist”.

“I have my hobbies.”

You’re just about at the end of your rope with them, Wanda picking something out and Clint huffing and puffing that it doesn’t go with the look he’s going for, Natasha yelling at both of them like children. Finally, the timer that means, “We better be ready now or we’re gonna be late” sounds off. Wanda’s best idea today, the worst being, obviously…

Natasha and Wanda have tickets for an art gallery opening, so they’re both driving you, Clint tagging along for “moral support.” Groans were elicited.

Natasha was giving you a run down the whole way there.

“He’s a little quiet at first,” She says.

“Good thing you’re not,” Clint whispers to you.

“I don’t know if he’ll get there first, or not, but he’s got dark hair and will probably be wearing dark clothes, he does around the office all the time.”

“Emo bo-” Clint cuts himself off from his whisper, snapping to Natasha. “He works with us.”

“Yes.”

Silence…

“Well, who is it?” Clint asks, rather boisterously.

“…No.”

“No?” Clint, clearly offended, turns to you. “What’s his name?”

Your mouth opens, before shutting again, realizing no one had told you. You lean forward in the backseat.

“Who is it, Nat?”

“You’ll see.”

“No-” “Nuh-uh!” You and Clint both protest.

“I’ve been to your guys’ office I wanna know,” you say.

“Better pray it’s Steve,” Clint says.

“Oh, Natasha it better be Steve.”

Natasha turns around in the passenger seat, to face you and Clint in the back.

“Steve is engaged,” She starts.

“Yeah, so?” Clint says, and the car is quiet for a moment. When you make eye contact with Clint’s green eyes, the silence is cut by both of your laughter.

Unfortunately, this put a dent in the interrogation, and now you were outside of the diner. Your friends had told you good luck and left you here. You did notice Natasha whisper something to Clint as you got out, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. She covered his mouth and basically strangled him down when he tried to tell you.

Since they were gone…no one could force you to go in…

You couldn’t do that. Morally, you would feel horrible to just leave whoever this is sitting alone, waiting for you.

And the girls might evict you.

You walked through the doors of the diner. The diner was a cute little place, albeit a strange theme. It was based on Norse Mythology, called “Odin’s Sons.”

You were greeted by a blonde man, who was the hostess. You told him you were here to meet a date and he broke out into a smile. He said a man had arrived just a little while ago, here to wait for a date.

He led you to a table, where you were greeted by-

before

“I think you’ll like it,” Sam was saying. He was helping his friend, coworker, and roommate, get ready for a date Sam had set up for him.

“Who is she again?” Bucky asked, his voice strained.

“You don’t know her, but she’s Nat and Clint’s friend. She’s in some of the pictures on Clint’s stupid little desk of picture frames,” Bucky rolled his eyes at the mention of the pictures. Clint took many unauthorized pictures of Bucky himself (among others) and they ended up in frames. Clint claimed that, being an art major, and having taken many photography classes, he had the ultimate right.

As Sam described what you looked like, Bucky felt like he did sorta know who he was talking about. You came into the office sometimes, to bring whiny Clint and grateful Natasha food and coffee.

And you were probably the same girl Clint tortured and made fun of him for having a “crush” on.

Bucky arrived at the restaurant about half an hour before he was due. He wanted to be early and to have time to shake away all the nerves.

Well, maybe all was a bit much to ask. There were definitely a lot of nerves to cover.

He was greeted by Thor, the host who gave him a seat. A teenage boy with light brown hair and a bubbly personality brought him a glass of water and some bread. And another glass of water. And another. And a refill of bread.

“Thanks, Peter,” Bucky said again. No matter how many times the boy had to come back, he didn’t seem to stop smiling or being glad to get Bucky yet another glass of water.

As Thor came around the corner again, just as Peter was leaving, he was accompanied by the very girl Bucky had guessed it would be.

You were laughing, he could see, something Thor had said. Time felt like it was slowed as you met his eyes with yours. They seemed to sparkle with your joy, and his heart fluttered at the sight.

He hadn’t seen you so elegant before, but to him, you looked just as beautiful with or without. The makeup that defined your features seemed to have been applied with a steady hand. The dress you wore seemed to almost go with the makeup, and he wondered if it was planned or if you were just…perfect.

He had barely any time at all to gather his thoughts and put his ducks in a row before you sat across from him, smiling warmly. He smiled back, unable to say or do anything but sip his water.

“Hi,” You said. Your heart was pounding, and your heads were sweaty with nervousness. He set down his water glass that he had been holding since you came around the corner with Thor. He was barely finished saying hi back when the young waiter came to take your order.

He ordered first, and you quickly scanned the menu and picked something. The boy smiled warmly as he collected the menus from you, with the promise your food would be out soon.

“So,” The dark-haired man cleared his throat. You were entranced by the blue of his eyes as he said, “You…your name’s Y/n, right?”

“Hmm? Oh!” You realized you were basically questioning your own name, only a second too late. “Yeah, yeah, uh…Nat…asha, didn’t really tell me…your name.”

You decided on the long version of Nat’s name, taking a pause beforehand. You were grateful when the waiter, Peter, popped up out of nowhere with a drink you ordered, and more water for your date.

“It’s Bucky…Well, I mean, it’s James, but everyone calls me Bucky,” “Bucky” gave you a lopsided smile, which you returned.

Peter wasn’t lying when he said your food would be out right away. It seemed like you had barely taken the time to talk before your plates were in front of you.

“So you have…?”

“Three roommates,” you said, laughing a little.

“Oh god, and one of them’s Clint?” His face was twisted in genuine concern, which made you laugh a little harder. Bucky was hot and Bucky was funny and you could hardly take it.

“What about you?”

“It’s just me and Sam right now…and we have a cat,” He adds the last part after taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t look like a cat person,” You shake your head, taking a bite of your food.

“If I wear clothes that haven’t immediately come out of the dryer, I look like a cat,” He says, and then seems to pull a white cat hair off of his black shirt.

“You need lighter clothes.”

“Not really my style.”

“You’re eternally a goth kid?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that, making you smile even harder.

~~~

“She was hot, and she was funny,” Bucky was saying to Sam. Sam was lying stretched out on the couch, Alpine laying pristinely on his chest, all her legs tucked under her fluffy body.

“That’s nice Bucky,” Sam says, only half paying attention. He coos at the cat, scratching her chin, “Isn’t that nice baby?”

“Okay, you’re not listening.”

“What makes you think that?”

~~~

You were laying on your couch, your feet in Clint’s lap as he prodded you with questions. Natasha shushed him, smacking him upside the head, as she handed you a drink. And by drink, that refers to an entire bottle of wine.

You were fiddling with the cork as you droned on about the date. About what Bucky looked like, and about what you talked about. More about what he looked like…

You let yourself trail off as Natasha and Clint shared a knowing look, and Wanda was smiling to herself as she played on her phone.

“What?” you ask, eyes full of innocence.

“Noth-” Wanda starts, but Clint cuts her off.

“You’re whipped,” he laughs.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head.

Maybe you were.

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #clint barton #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff

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kabutoraiger · 11 months ago

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one more ep left in the toqger rewatch and i find myself thinking... about how many kobayashi shows have this element of like. a ghost story.

ryuki of course being the most blatant one. with the central narrative of one little girl who died (but her "ghost" is still there) and how the grief from that caught all these unrelated people in the fallout.

den-o is too cheerful to have anything resembling a Classical haunting but "haunting" still feels like the right word for what the older sakurai is doing. this guy who no longer really exists and most likely never will again who is like this unpleasant specter to his past self.

shinkenger has dayuu and the spirits of juuzou's victims trapped in his sword who are instrumental to defeating him. and by the time the gobusters get to hyperspace their parents have on some level already been dead for a while, become "ghosts in the machine," and later they have to accept that the same is true of jin.

and though it was kind of overdramatic & inaccurate for the conductor & ticket to tell the toqgers they were "as good as dead" there's something real there too. these kids taken from the regular living world into this inbetween purgatorial existence and the longer they stay there the higher the chance that their loved ones will no longer be able to "see" them.

i don't know. it's an interesting throughline. and i so wish more writers would take her example bc even a little hint of something like a character haunting the narrative goes such a long way to get you invested in the beats of the plot.

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tachimichishrine · 11 months ago

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Q6yuquqjq YOU'RE LIKE THE PERFECT TACHIHARA FANFIC Y/N WRITER I FUCKING LOVE YOU MATE❤️❤️❤️❤️ I have one silly offer, and ofc ofc I'll wait my sweet time for u to drop it (probably wait for decades like I'm so invested). Can you do some...fluff like the reader is so inlove and has been dropping hints to tachi. He knows but he wants the reader to say it to his face instead of hints.with the silly lines "I ain't a patient man, say it to my face" QJKSJSJS IDK HOW TO WORD IT BUT U CAN DO IT!!!!

"impatient"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! jouno's sister! reader

warnings: none! take the fluff and frustrated tachi and flustered reader! (obviously some mild cursing and intended lowercase >///<)

it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that led to this.

"listen up, you bitch," tachihara seethed, pressing the tip of the gun against her temple, "this is our turf and you have no business being here."

"look sweetheart, this is all a misunderstanding," she said coolly, despite her heart pounding in her chest and the cold metal wrapped around her wrists.

and she wasn't lying. the series of events that led to her being tied to a metal chair somewhere in the port mafia's infinite supply of basements were peculiar, difficult to explain to the man who was threatening her life.

"any chance I could explain this all over some drinks?" she suggested with a chuckle before he dragged the gun down to her neck and pushed it up under her chin. "sheesh, okay, I guess not."

"having fun now, aren't we?" he nearly spat in her face, looking disgusted. "let's see how much you laugh when I put a hole in every one of your limbs-"

she shushed him then spoke in a whisper. "I think they're gone now, you can lay off the act."

tachihara sighed out of relief and moved to take the cuffs off of the detained woman.

"you're a real pain in my ass, you know that?" he whispered back, watching her get up and stretch her limbs. "I told you not to show up here."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi... never thought you'd have another mafioso with you."

"you're gonna blow my cover," he said plainly, earning a pout.

their relationship was complicated.

jouno [_____], executive at the most notorious criminal organization in yokosuka, a city south of yokohoma, who still traveled back and forth for some occasional business. her current position was formerly filled by her brother saigiku, who left the underground in order to join the hunting dogs.

she, on the other hand, stuck the criminal route and even maintained contact with her sibling throughout the 6 years without ever switching sides. he never spoke about her to his colleagues except for a single grumble under his breath on one occasion where teruko was out of control, saying she was acting just like "his delinquent sister".

the matter was laid to rest until the first day of tachihara's infiltration into the port mafia. supposedly, since he had no street credit and would look extremely suspicious, she was his ticket in. she wasn't doing it out of the goodness of her heart (she was paid by the hunting dogs after being recommended by her brother), and yet tachihara found that she'd taken less than a week to get him accustomed to the underground life and put in a good word for him with the port mafia. she acted somewhat unprofessional at times, but there was no denying that she was good.

a little too good at times.

he was given impossible missions, to begin. the kind of things that set you up for failure unless you were a prodigy or had insane connections, missions hand-delivered by mori or any executive to test the new recruit. the first time, he was supposed to go and threaten the foreigners that had settled in on the edge of town and gotten themselves too comfortable with yokohoma. he relayed the information back to the hunting dogs, and jouno happened to mention it over the phone to his sister. she jumped in, ready to intervene before tachihara went in guns blazing and found himself confronting the notorious bulletproof brothers of brazil. she even told him where to buy knockout gas and gave him the rundown of the crime groups of the region.

once he got more familiar with his environment, she was needed less and yet contacted him at the same frequency. sometimes it was for essential information, other times it was for "company", as she put it. the ambiguity made it so that he didn't have any other choice but to respond to all of her calls.

tonight, she was in yokohoma for some business and decided to pop by and say hi. unfortunately, she did so right as he was having a chat with chuuya and they were caught in a peculiar situation. they played along, her pretending to be caught and him pretending to not know who she was while the executive spat in her face and asked what she was doing in this part of yokohoma. tachihara took charge of the situation and promised to find out, which led to them both roleplaying in the basement of the port mafia.

"oh, come on, you're gonna be fineeee," she tapped the tip of his nose, giggling without a care in the world. "chuuya knows I travel 'round these areas, and he's gonna catch wind of the deal I just closed earlier tonight, too. just tell him that and all's well. cheer up, tachihara, it's the underground. no one cares that much here."

he grumbled some kind of confirmation and watched as she held his hand and they both turned to human vapor. his consciousness paused momentarily and he came to a few streets down, wobbly on his feet as if his muscles were liquified.

"what the fuck, I didn't say—"

she shushed his protest, nodding her head to the motorcycle parked in front of them. "oh come on, stop complainin'. I'd ask you for drinks but most of the shops 'round here are mafia-owned and you'd be paranoid about gettin' caught, right? so hop on, I'll take ya to the other side of town, but you're paying, got it?"

"shit, you're gonna get me—"

"drunk. now hop on, pretty boy, we've got places to be."

he complied with a roll of his eyes, mildly pissed but unable not to reflect back the playful attitude she was giving him.

the ride was rather long, but damn him if he complained.

she had her body leaning around the tank, legs constantly at work shifting gears and shifting their weight as the motorcycle sped up drastically. she didn't offer him a helmet, not even a jacket of any sorts, since she'd never crashed before. she whispered, "hold on, even if we're about to crash, and you'll be fine," and he didn't have any room to complain or ask questions.

her ability to turn herself and any objects directly in contact with her skin into vapor greatly resembled her brother's, but proved so useful in the sense that she could control herself in a gaseous state, floating around a room and gathering intel almost completely invisible, which made her such an effective executive. tachihara put two and two together and figured she'd evaporate both him and the bike if anything went south.

nothing went wrong. in fact, the fear for his life got him wrapping his hands around her waist and burying his face in her back. when he loosened up, she would do a dangerous maneuver and his grip would tighten once again as she laughed maniacally.

she laughed about it some more when they were finally inside the lounge owned by her own organization, sitting in a booth in the corner so that it was unlikely anyone would notice them— even if they did, she had the kind of authority that made it feel incredibly dangerous to even think about tattletalling. apparently, the sadism ran in the family.

"you really freaked out when I swerved around that huge truck," she giggled, taking a sip out of her mystery drink and sliding the glass over to him. "want a sip?"

"what is it?" he questioned, still drinking without waiting for her to respond. his face scrunched up in disgust and he pushed it back. "yurk, what is that? can't believe you drink that shit voluntarily."

"hey, it's my favourite flavour!" she frowned and punched his shoulder. "I'll tell them to charge you double for everything 'cause you deserve it."

"isn't everything we order free? I mean, since you practically own the shop, that's what the guy at the front told you."

"shut up, I'm trying to make a point."

the evening was quiet, almost no one around except the two of them. she asked how her brother had been, and he asked the same thing since he hadn't spoken to his coworkers in quite some time. she gave him more details on things he needed to watch out for, and then listened to his updates with enough attention that neither of them noticed her body gravitating towards his. by the time it was too early in the morning and the place was closing, their shoulders were practically rubbing and she was close enough to kiss him.

it was all she ever thought of. she lied to herself, said she was checking out the bandage on his nose and her gaze just dropped down to his lips while he spoke. staring long enough for him to notice - that was the plan - except he didn't seem to notice at all, or at least he pretended not to. laughing loudly at every semi-funny joke he made, distractedly taking her bottom lip in between her teeth, tilting her head when he spoke; she was running out of hints to drop. the only other thing she could think of was carving "I love you" into her forehead and praying he doesn't spontaneously go blind.

how dense can a man be?

she had a driver drop him off back in yokohoma; her heart ached when she waved him goodbye and goodnight.

she couldn't stop thinking about him, day and night, and it was getting out of control. she would zone out in the middle of meetings and her colleagues were noticing. she explained that it was just some personal stuff, not that her chest felt hollow whenever she thought about him, not that she was catching herself thinking of gifts to get him, not that she was atrociously in love with him.

months, she spent months trying to drop hints. she had felt like she might accidentally evaporate when she had called him "pretty boy" for the first time, but he shrugged it off as if she hadn't said anything. once she got comfortable with that, she got touchy, and still no reaction. over the past week, she texted and called him nearly every night and even fell asleep on call on a few occasions. she checked the call log and he hung up nearly an hour after she drifted off, long enough to signal that he was listening to her snore softly but not long enough that he could've fallen asleep accidentally as well.

she kept losing hope as she thought about it, then regaining the confidence after seeing him again. it was getting unbearable.

"saigiku, I'm losing my mind," she said, sitting down at a bench on the pier. her legs kicked back and forth, and she sighed into the phone. "I don't understand guys. help me out here."

"ugh, don't you have girlfriends to talk about this shit with?" he groaned in annoyance on the other end. "I don't know. men are stupid. hope that helps."

she mimicked him. "thanks bro, you're tons of help."

"well, you won't tell me anything about the guy so I don't know what you want from me. either suck it up and say it to him or move on."

his advice wasn't bad, but it was simultaneously obvious that he couldn't care less. she rolled her eyes and changed the topic, instead listening for what felt like hours while he ranted about his dumb colleague. she wondered whether the jounos were really just bad at understanding people.

once the call was over, she took a deep breath of the ocean breeze and closed her eyes. nearly falling asleep on the bench, she was roused by her name being called out, a familiar voice.

"hey, tachihara," she smiled softly at him, seemingly exhausted (from all the nights spent rolling over in bed, thinking about him).

"you said you had intel?" he takes a seat next to her, trying to play it cool in case they were spotted, despite the light fog and the lack of anyone being out this late at night.

nodding, she handed over a folder filled with the information she collected about the next inspectors in yokohoma, the ones who were going to try to naively take down the port mafia and ultimately fail.

"they have a few operations going on, one about your buddy hirotsu. they might start digging into you too, and you don't want them finding out. deal with them as if them finding your identity was a death sentence, because it might as well be."

the information was true, but nothing in the folder was important. she just wanted to see him again.

"so..." he leafed through the papers, "anything I need to look out for?"

the millions of hints I keep dropping you.

"nothing particular, I think. they'll probably aim for more important mafia figures, so you'll be glossed over as a new recruit. someone experienced will likely take care of them before you need to."

"okay, thanks," he made the motion to get up, but stopped himself. "...are you in yokohoma for long?"

"just the night, my driver's picking me up in a few hours," she smiled reassuringly at him. "why?"

"huh? no reason, just wonderin'." he got up this time and nodded at her. "thanks for the drop, you didn't hafta do that."

I'm in love with you, you fool, of course I did.

"oh, it's not a big deal. anything for a friend."

more than a friend. fuck, you look gorgeous in the moonlight.

she caught herself watching his back as he walked away. her hand reached out, as if to physically catch him as he slipped away, then she cursed herself.

"hey, tachihara? are you in a rush to go anywhere?"

he turned around and shot up a brow. her smirk felt genuine.

the idea was stupid, to combine both of their abilities together to try to get the best view of the night sky. no city light in their way as they stood a few hundred meters from the ground. she beat up the metal roof of a small car and pulled it off so that they could place it on the ground. they both sat down on top of it, one of her hands holding him while the other's palm flattened out on the sheet of metal. evaporating; within seconds, they were among the clouds. she warped them back and he activated his ability to carry both of their weights.

suspended in the sky, suspended in time.

"never seen the stars this clearly before," she murmured, feet dangling over the edge as she laid down. "living in the city really takes away from the small things, doesn't it?"

"guess so," he said, doing the same as she did.

silence. nothing except the breeze and the frigid air and their breathing.

"the stars are beautiful," she said, dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

"yeah," he responded simply.

more silence. she could've sworn he could hear her heart pounding.

"...is it heavy to hold both of us up?"

"not really."

it was getting painful.

"shit, it's cold up here."

"uh huh."

she wasn't lying, it really was cold. but at least the numbness in her fingers took over for the numbness in her mind.

"should we head down?"

"sure."

she held onto the plate, then reached for his hand. she hesitated. it felt like she was always making the first move, always trying to do something, and now it was feeling all wrong. she just wanted him to confirm anything, tell her anything, anything at all.

she got over herself, took his frozen hand in hers and brought them back down.

she took her brother's advice and got over herself.

of course, she still filled him in on anything he needed to know and she occasionally tried to talk with him, but it was as if he was purposefully avoiding not only her hints, but anything at all that she did.

so, she was quite surprised when she found that he'd left her a message telling her to show up at a bar in between the two cities that evening.

her leg bounced uneasily while she sat at a table, drinks already ordered but her glass toyed with between her fingers while she waited. thankfully, it wasn't long before he arrived, amber eyes catching hers from across the room.

"hey," she smiled, trying to repress the butterflies and keep a level head. "what did you— huh?!"

tachihara had grabbed her arm with a tight grip, firmly pulling her up to her feet as she complied, confused.

"ow, lay off my arm— I'll follow you but where the fuck are we going? I ordered drinks, y'know, feels like a waste..."

"will you shut the actual fuck up?" he interrupted again, now pulling her outside of the bar completely and pushing her against the wall. "are you fucking stupid?"

"what the hell? what's wrong with you, tachiha-"

"I'd ask you the same thing. look, I'm not dumb. I can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest right now."

"wha-"

"look, I ain't a patient man. just say it to my face."

it took his stern expression, the way he was almost trapping her against the brick wall of the building and looking as serious as she'd ever seen him to realize that they were both thinking the same thing.

"what, do you wanna hear that I like you? you're gonna make me sound like a lovesick schoolgirl," she chuckled, using humour to envelope her confession so that whatever came next would hurt less. or so, she hoped.

"not good enough."

she narrowed her eyes at him. "the fuck do you mean, not good enough? I've been trying to drop you hints for the past century and your dense ass wasn't having it, all of a sudden you're acting distant, then you're pulling me out of a bar and asking me to confess to you? fine, you wanna hear about how fucking stupid I am around you? you wanna hear how I read over every message you've ever sent me before I go to sleep, how I can't do shit without seeing something that reminds me of you, how I feel like I'm going to combust into a thousand fucking pieces whenever I see you smile at one of my lame jokes? you wanna hear about every time I told myself I'd say something and then I back out of it? you wanna—"

she stopped talking as soon as his hand wrapped around her neck, fingertips intertwined with her hair and thumbs running upwards along her ears so he had a good enough hold to pull her into his lips.

maybe it was everything she'd ever imagined, or maybe it wasn't. who cares. he was kissing her.

she didn't know what to do, how to kiss him back when he was pressing into her like he wanted this as badly as she did. her body went along with his, allowing him to push her harder against the wall and kiss her deeper. it didn't end, her lips opening up and panting softly into his mouth while his tongue took over. he drew pictures of her into the roof of her mouth, and she was drunk on his spit by the time he pulled away.

"fucking finally," he breathed out, chest rising and falling against hers.

"I'm so goddamn confused," she giggled back, "not that I'm complaining."

"you didn't just drop hints, you threw them at my fuckin' face, [_____]. I was waiting for you to make the first move and you didn't, so I tried somethin' else to see if you'd get sick and tired and finally say it. but you didn't, and I wasn't gonna wait any longer."

"you could've just asked me first, you dipshit."

he grinned that stupid, smug grin she couldn't get over. "yeah, but then I wouldn't have heard your little speech there."

"oh, fuck you." her words didn't match her actions, grabbing handfuls of his jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.

for an impatient man, he felt like he waited his whole life for this moment.

#IDK WHY IM HAVING BRAINFARTS AND CANT WRITE GOOD RN SOBBING #tachihara michizou #bsd tachihara #tachihara x reader #bungo stray dogs tachihara #tachihara michizou x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #tachihara x reader bsd #tachihara bsd x reader #tachihara bsd #tachi fics #im unwell for them

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