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mxauthor · 9 months

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Creativity

Summary: Y/n is a photographer and Spencer is a great model.

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: fluff, kisses, probably false statistics, giggly spence at the end.

November 4th.

That was the deadline of when Y/n’s assignment was due.

That date was one week away and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. The whole class was given three weeks to complete the assignment and Y/n was running out of time.

She’s an aspiring photographer.

Several of her works have been published in magazines and have won many contests. She even has a website dedicated to her photos as well as other young photographers wanting to pursue their passions.

However, most of her clients don’t want an amatrue to take any of their photos, hence the course. Even though her boyfriend, Spence, has rattled off statics about not needing classes to become a photographer; it still made her feel better: more official

But now, her photography course is requiring her to submit new artwork instead of some of her old pieces. The professor said he ‘wanted to put their learning to use and catch something they’ve never thought of before.’

Y/n hated it. She was hitting deadend after deadend. Everything she’s shot is within her comfort zone, not new.

With a loud groan Y/n threw her head back on the couch she was perched on. Spencer only rounded the end the moment she was looking up at their light tan ceiling.

“Still can’t find anything?” Spencer asked. His tone knowing the answer, but wanting to be caring still.

“Not a thing.” Y/n replied, enunciating every word in the sentence. Spencer looked at her with a sympathetic look. Knowing the frustration not being able to achieve something.

He thought about the requirements of the assignment, having told him once she first got it. Spence wanted to help, he really did, but it was the first time he’s drawn a blank.

“I have no clue what to do. All the photos I’ve taken are like the ones I’ve taken before.” Y/n raised her head and looked at her boyfriend of a year. “Nothing new, nothing that’s caught my eye.”

“You know statically, most photographers set up their master photos. All of them have been staged and made to look candid. A lot of the photographs that I’ve studied since you’ve started your classes I’ve noticed that a lot of the items seemed to be perfectly placed. Just like it was made to be a photoshoot of some sort. While a lot of your works are within the moment, scenery or candid of people.” Spencer rambled. Y/n watched him intently as he talked, never liking to cut him off once he started, “So I believe that your professor is asking you to do something of the sort, to make a piece that you have to stage. I would suggest using someone that you are comfortable with, which will trigger a higher dopamine output as well as a higher serotonin that allows cognitive flexibility and an increase in mood.”

Y/n looked at Spence. A sparkle within her eye that Spencer knew to be trouble.

“Comfortable, staged and someone I know.” Y/n summarized, Spencer nodded along enthusiastically, always touched when someone listened to him all the way through.

“Yep.”

“Well then, pretty boy, I just found my client.” Y/n said, her eyes sparking with, what Spence can only describe as creativity. And lust.

The nickname alone should’ve told him that he wasn’t going to like this idea nor was he going to be the most comfortable with it. However, when Y/n had jumped up from her seat and started to set up her equipment with a huge smile on her face, Spence couldn’t really say no.

Y/n had placed one of their kitchen chairs in the living room (after she moved everything out of the way). Claiming that it was perfect. Her lights and camera were setup to where he supposed was his place in all of this.

He watched with a little nervousness as he stood in a white button down and some black pants. He was demanded asked to change from his comfortable warm pajamas, into this more serious ‘photo worthy’ outfit.

“Okay now, I need you to sit in the chair and I’ll be right back.” Y/n commanded, her voice left no place to argue.

So Spencer sat down. Patting his legs while he waited for the final piece of this photoshoot.

About 2 minutes had gone by before Y/n walked out, red lipstick painted on her lips. As well as a tub in her hand. If he looked close enough, he could see kiss marks on her hands, some more faint and one very vibrant.

Spencer studied the way Y/n walked up to him. Almost like she was trying to seduce in a way. As she got closer, Spence could see a smirk playing on her lips.

“What are you-” Before the genius could actually ask his question, Y/n had kissed him.

His brain short circuited. His IQ is now at 60.

It took a second before he kissed back, before it could get more heated Y/n pulled back. She studied the lipstick print on her boyfriend, liking how well it was placed.

Spencer’s face had flushed, he stared at her surprised, trying to understand what’s happening.

Before he could ask Y/n started talking, “The assignment is to do something new. To try and incorporate all of the lessons we’ve learned up into now. As you’ve said all of my past works were either scenery or candid photos. Something that has just happened or there for anyone to see. What I’m doing here is different. This is a photoshoot, not candid. You are normally sophisticated and well cleaned, however at this moment your unshaven and floppy hair. As well as dressed in something more date-casual.”

Spencer tried computing everything that was said, only to realize what she meant. His flush grew a little as Y/n looked at him for a silent ask, him nodding his answer.

She started to unbutton the top four buttons of his shirt. Spence started to grow even redder as Y/n started to kiss all over his neck, face and chest.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, all this attention and kisses making him hot.

But one thing is that he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither of them could. Y/n’s kisses varied in shape and size, trying hard to control the smiles on her face. Spencer giggled and flushed until she stopped.

Y/n looked at the lipstick marks with a proud smile and a flush of her own. Giddy to take the pictures.

“Okay hold still.” Y/n commanded, trying to capture him flush and giddy.

Trying to catch her Spencer, the goof ball that’s in love with her, in a living memory.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #reader #xreader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #x fem reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #x reader #mx works

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sirfrogsworth · 9 months

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I have some guys here taking pictures of my mom's stuff. Yesterday I noticed they put a white cloth over our big kitchen light. "Oh, is that for diffusion?" I thought it was a clever hack to get softer light for their product photos. They were surprised I knew what it was for. I told them I was a photographer. I mentioned I actually had a bunch of special plastic that I use for diffusion. One mentioned he had an interest in photography and was curious about my diffusion material.

He told me about his camera and how he wished he had a better one so he could take better pictures of jewelry for his job. I didn't say anything, but his camera was fine. All modern cameras are fine. Smartphones are even fine. If he wants better pictures of jewelry and whatnot, he needs to learn about lighting. I didn't want to correct him, but I thought maybe if I showed him my lighting setup with the plastic he was interested in, that might send him on the path to better pictures.

So today I brought out my computer and showed him some examples of my product photography and my lighting setup with the diffusion plastic. But once he saw my photos his attitude changed very quickly. He acted like he suddenly lost interest. I found this really odd.

The leader of the group asked to see the pictures. He was impressed and wished his auction photos could look that good. I told him my approach would not work for the assembly line style photos he needs to do, but there was a different approach that might work. I showed him the Karl Taylor light cone.

You just put two lights on either side and take a picture through the hole in the top. You get wonderful gradient lighting with almost no effort and you could create a system to take many photos very quickly.

He was very interested and asked his friend, "Have you seen this light cone? You should also look at all of these product photos he did. They're amazing."

He was once again dismissive and uninterested. And it was then I figured out his issue.

Jealousy.

I kept trying to explain the cone and lighting to the leader and the other guy would say, "Yeah, I already knew that. I just need a better camera is all"

The leader then made me show him my photos and I already knew it was a bad idea, but I was kind of stuck. I showed him more of my product photos of bottles and jewelry and he was like, "Yeah, I could do that. That's called a "sexy bottle shot." I've done that. I just need a better camera."

He was in pain seeing my photos. I'm pretty sure he felt like I was showing him up. Asserting photo dominance. And that was never my intention. I just wanted to share what I knew. I was excited to meet another person with the same interest. But that turned into an awkward and jealous dismissiveness and he did not want to know how I got the results I was forced to show him.

And then, despite the dismissive lack of interest, he says under his breath, "What kind of camera are you using?"

After all the awkwardness, he still didn't catch on to the lesson I was trying to teach.

It is not the camera.

"I just need something to get better closeups."

I should have kept my mouth shut after that. I already knew he didn't want to listen to what I had to say. But I also felt bad that this guy was going to buy an entire new camera and lens to get the same results he is getting now. And so I was like, "Have you heard of macro extension tubes?"

"Oh yeah, I know about them."

He did not.

"You can get some of those and put them on any lens you have and get really great close up shots. Works even on a cheap $100 lens."

"Yeah, I've seen those. Not sure they're what I need. I just need a better camera."

Oof.

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 8 months

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“what the fuck is this?”

levi held what seemed like a thin rectangular device. he had seen you holding and interacting with one before, but he never knew what it was, and he didn’t have the chance to ask.

“it’s called a phone!” you exclaimed excitedly. “this way, we can talk even if we’re physically apart. and you can do some other cool things with it too.”

levi tapped at the screen a few times and frowned when nothing popped up.

“it’s broken.”

you rolled your eyes, having forgotten that paradis had not had that much exposure to modern technology.

“it’s not on, silly,” you said as you walked over and pressed on a button at the side of the screen.

after a few seconds, the screen lit up, although levi only looked further confused.

“you have to do a first-time setup before you can use it. just follow the instructions on the screen and you should be able to use it afterwards!”

levi poked around at the screen and you could tell he wasn’t used to it. he was typing by poking one letter at a time with his index finger and scowled at the screen whenever autocorrect completely changed whatever it was that he was trying to type. he couldn’t possibly understand why someone would waste their entire day staring at such a thing.

“is that it?” he asked, underwhelmed when he finally had it all set up. it seemed like a huge waste of time if he struggled through all that only to be met with a blank screen with some stock photo set as the background.

“it is if you want it to be,” you said nonchalantly.

“ah?”

you spent the remainder of the afternoon filling levi in on all the advantages of having a smartphone: gps, texting that uses both sms and internet, having a search engine, having a translating system, etc. although he claimed to be disinterested or commented that the societal need for a phone seems stupid, he was intently listening in on your instructions.

after leaving him on his own, you’d eventually come back to find him fumbling with the screen, trying to mess around with the camera feature, scowling when nothing came up whenever he took a picture, failing to realize that his hand was covering up the camera.

he’d accidentally take a selfie and you’d immediately snatch his phone from him, texting yourself the selfie. he didn’t look ridiculous or anything, but his somewhat confused look at the camera was too precious for you not to keep for yourself.

you learned very quickly that day, that although levi ackerman was talented in many things, navigating modern technology was not one of them.

just a little drabble that popped up in my head (i’m also very much not sober so this isn’t proofread!!!) also apparently marley has smartphones because i’m too out of it to come up with a better reason as to why levi has zero idea as to how to navigate it

#my hc that levi’s a dumbass with technology hehe #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #post-war levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #levi fluff

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

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desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 4,752 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, swearing, loneliness, mentions of drugs and crime, mentions of imprisonment, family issues, feeling unwanted, slight bullying, anxiety, nightmares, insomnia, depression, loss and grief, mentions of spit, super brief mention of alcohol and vomit, very brief mentions of breakups and inappropriate sexual relations (nothing reader or eddie are apart of). i think that’s it!

a/n: this is my first attempt at a slow burn series so i hope it’s good! i’m also trying a new setup with photos instead of gifs ^ i’ve seen a lot of other people do it and i think it looks really cool so! also creds to who owns and posted these photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

Eddie Munson had grown bitter since you last saw him. To be fair, the last time you saw him was when you were kids but still. You always knew him to be boisterous. Adventurer Eddie. Eddie with the weird ideas and cool drawings. Eddie who made you laugh until your stomach cramped and you would cry out that he was going to make you wet yourself.

You didn’t know it as a kid but even then he couldn’t catch a break from the world around him, and apparently it never stopped spiraling even when it beat him into a hollow shell covered in grease during the weekdays and alcohol—and occasionally vomit—on the weekends. He was worn down by his own worries that never seemed to cease and miserable stories of others admitting things they should’ve never said aloud. Sometimes the stories were fun or at least amusing, but mostly just depressing. This was Hawkins after all.

This wasn’t an Eddie you knew. Had someone told you that man in the garage wasn’t him, you simply would’ve nodded and kept going on your journey to find him.

But it was him, and you were positive he was meant to be back in your life. No matter how much it was hurting right now.

You didn’t know why he left at first. It was as if he ceased to exist, and sometimes—when you were all alone at night—you wondered if he had been a ghost. If he had been an imaginary friend, but surely not? He had his own home you hung out in. His own dad who let you guys eat too much junk food and stay up too late. He looked and sounded real when he would scarf down several bowls of honeycomb cereal with those slurping noises you always hated and would whine at him over. He felt real when you would play wrestle—and unfortunately very real when he won and would pin you down while slowly letting a string of saliva stretch down towards your face in an empty threat. He never really did it, but it was gross all the same, and when he’d let up you’d punch his arm as hard as you could.

One day, you asked if your parents remembered him and your father scoffed at the question while he stared at the newspaper, but at least he acknowledged you at all. Meanwhile your mother had all her focus on putting her earrings in and checking her makeup in the small mirror on a wall surrounded by family photos. Those framed pictures felt emptier than the looming threat of Eddie’s spit touching your face.

“Well his father’s a bottom feeder stuck in prison,” your dad flicked his paper to straighten it out again from where it had begun to bow backwards. “And his kid is probably no better. You’ll make other friends.”

You never understood why he was so cold about the loss of your only friend. You’ll make other friends. Yeah right. No one liked you. Everyone made fun of the way you sat idly on swings just to kick on occasion as you focused more on the book in your hands, or the way you’d squat down and give all your attention to a bug in front of you. Either a line of ants that you regarded with pure intrigue because you wondered how they always filed so neatly and did their best to stay together. Sometimes you left crumbs by them just to see if you could watch them pick them up. You’d watch snails and show them the attentiveness and respect you felt they deserved as they slowly trudged along—so determined, you thought. You’d watch butterflies and try to keep track of all the different kinds you saw. A lot of them were small and fluttery with those buttery white wings, but sometimes you saw a monarch and your eyes would grow large with excitement.

You cried when Zachary McKay would stomp on the anthills or teased you about how the French ate snails—something his dad would say was just more proof of how odd Europeans are. They were one of those arrogant “We love our Country!” households with an “I can do whatever I want—America is the land of the free” ideology and it showed in their unbridled and privileged ass of a child. You didn’t inform him that one Spring of the wasp nest that formed on the underside of the slide he frequented. Maybe it was mean, but you were content in silence over on your swing when you heard him crying out in pain one day. He developed a crush on you in high school that dramatically contrasted how he treated you in grade school—and even tried to make a move at Maddi Ecker’s 17th birthday party—but you could only think of the ants and the snails. You turned him down and he was horrible to you again.

You eventually did make some friends, other odds and ends throughout your school, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Eddie. Maybe it was childish and stubborn, but you could feel it deep in your gut that he was one of a kind. So you couldn’t let him go. All those years you ached for your friend who you considered lost. He always came up with wild stories and (when you were still relatively young) you imagined he had become a pirate and was lost at sea. Or became a gunslinger in the Wild West and didn’t draw fast enough. Maybe he went to slay dragons and wound up a burnt crisp of a human. That last one made you cringe the most, but he probably would’ve liked it the most. He loved mythical creatures the way you adored real creatures. By high school you weren’t as naive. You heard about his dad—caught with multiple charges of grand theft auto, a hit-and-run in one of said stolen cars, and dealing drugs. The hard shit. Not weed or shrooms. But the kind of stuff that really ruins lives.

You always thought Eddie had a good home. His dad didn’t hate him the way you were sure your parents hated you, and he had a nice house. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but they really didn’t need anything beyond a one story and a sizable basement with only two of them. In hindsight, you supposed he couldn’t find a home in that childhood house anymore than you could with yours. Yours lacked love. His lacked a reliable source of income.

Over time you heard about the night with all the sirens and social workers. The night he turned into a spirit that had finally moved on—an imaginary friend that your growing mind ceased to conjure. He lived with his uncle over in Indiana, rather than your small town in Ohio. Even in your mid twenties, he flashed in your mind like a small blip on occasion and it still twisted your stomach.

You thought of asking if you should go to him whenever you remembered, but you thought you needed a sign. What if you showed up too early? And you messed up any possible grand plans? So you avoided indulging in questions about him to your tarot cards or over your pendulum map. On occasion you caved and just asked a simple question: is he safe? It was a yes every time you broke and just had to check up on him, and the answer reassured you for long enough until the next time the concern rose up to unbearable levels.

But then you started getting those dreams. Sometimes they were just memories playing from deep within the archives of your mind. Sometimes they were nightmares of yelling at someone to go away, only to realize it was Eddie far too late—and when you wanted to run after him to correct the mistake, you couldn’t move as quickly as you knew you were capable of.

It went on for about a month before you finally broke. Your eyes had snapped open, accidentally waking yourself in the middle of saying what you had been shouting to Dream Eddie out loud into your pitch black room. You glanced at the time. 11:11 PM. You felt your heart skip a beat before you shoved yourself out of bed. You had to take a moment to steady yourself against your bedpost from the sudden movement making you dizzy, but then you were flicking on the light and digging through your belongings. You didn’t even give yourself a chance to wipe away at the thin sheen of sweat over your skin from August heat mixed with a cheap fan that really didn’t make that much of a difference, and the stress from the events that had played deep in your mind while you slept.

With a shaky breath, you smoothed out your map on the floor where you were squatting, and steadily held your pendulum over the center. Does he need me? You finally asked and watched as the chain connected to a sphere of rose quartz slowly began to circle. It sped up and then began to dart in different directions before finally swinging back and forth between both of the “YES''s on the piece of cloth.

It took a little over a month to arrange your departure from your life in small town Ohio—not that small town Indiana was really all that different. You had briefly been back at your childhood house after your lease came to an end for the apartment you shared with a friend (who didn’t want to renew because she wanted to move in with her boyfriend, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the card spread you had laid out all pointed towards a breakup). All of this to say you didn’t have a lease or mortgage to tie you down. You certainly didn’t have a boyfriend (you haven’t had one since college), and you didn’t even like your job at the local mart so it was easy to give your two weeks. Your parents were just as sick of your presence now as when you were a child, and were willing to help you in every way possible to get you to just leave again. Had you not been so focused on your end goal, you might��ve taken a beat to really feel the hurt that always came with parents who only came to your aid when it meant keeping you at arm's length. But you couldn’t focus on it and really (for the sake of your mental health) you shouldn’t focus on it. All of your energy went towards Eddie who seemed so far, even if he was supposedly just a few hours and a state line away.

You didn’t have a place yet, which was a mistake on your part for rushing, but you could stay in a motel for the time being. The prices were pretty low anyways and the owner seemed pleasantly surprised by the sudden source of money and company. The lot belonged to her husband who had passed a few years back, so now it was only her running the place. Her daughter helped sometimes, but she had another job to focus on—only coming to help when the older woman was ill. So even though she appeared kind of grumpy at first, she really softened up to you when you wound up padding out of your room the first night and asked if she wanted to play Go Fish. You had been feeling antsy and lonely, and you were right to assume she felt lonely too.

Over the past week or so, you found a friend in that creaking, groaning motel. You did have a bit of a tendency to befriend the adults around you more often than kids your age when you were younger and it still happened now, apparently. A shrink at university pointed out once that it had to do with the lack of guardianship and guidance growing up. That you were trying to replace something that had always been missing, but you didn’t go back to him after a couple sessions. You didn’t like how patronizing he was, telling you things you already knew. And when you asked your dowsing rods if he was sleeping with any of his clients, the two pieces in your fists whipped open in a blatant “Yes!” But he wasn’t around now to make you feel low with his supercilious commentary and his notes that he always scratched down right in front of you. Your parents weren’t around to remind you of how utterly unlovable you can be. It was just you, Martha at Hawkins’ Blue Bird Inn, and hopefully a pleasant reunion on the horizon.

Today was the day to finally see Eddie, and Martha urged some confidence into you this morning before sending you on your way with the directions to the garage. No matter how many times you clarified he was just your childhood best friend, she got that sly look about her that always showed when an adult was all amused about the novice in front of them being openly or involuntarily blind to love.

So there you were. On a mild Wednesday morning in late September, standing before Thacher Tire after a lot of asking around, a lot of time flipping through Martha’s phone book, and even more odd looks. You let out a careful breath, doing your best to reassure yourself with the knowledge that the people you spoke to knew his name in the first place. He had to be here, and even if he wasn’t working today he should at least be employed here. Maybe you could be told when to come back to speak with him or where you could find him outside of work. Would they share something like that? People don’t tend to care about privacy in small towns, that’s why everyone knew (generally) where everyone else was. Maybe if you clarified that you’re an old friend, they wouldn’t treat you as a customer and tell you where he would be.

You were wringing your hands as you eyed the door in front of you. The glass looking in was worn from age and weather, clearly cleaned so people could see through it, but there seemed to be an aging to the corners where the rectangle of glass met the surrounding wood that couldn’t be scrubbed out. It felt like a portal looking into what could be, and you suddenly felt yourself getting anxious with what exactly meant could be. You had a knack for catastrophizing, and spiraled in all of the worst case scenarios until you were running back to your car and abandoning the lot.

“Trust me, it’s not as scary as it seems. Going for those intimidating opportunities is always better in the long run than letting ‘em slip away,'' Martha murmured to you before biting into the sandwich you brought her.

You bought typical fast food that you always came running back to when you were stressed, but she didn’t like the grease. You learned that over the past week when you brought up your bad habit, and her nose scrunched up at the mention of crappy burgers and overly salted fries. Instead you got her a tuna sandwich from the nearby marketplace, and she shared her big jug of iced, sweet tea with you.

“I haven’t seen him for over ten years…,” you sigh, toying with the crackling paper that was wrapped around your cheeseburger. “What if I’m the only one who clung onto our friendship? What if it’s stupid to him?”

“Mm, us women always do hold on longer,” she hummed thoughtfully and you refrained from your urge to correct her old-fashioned view of gender dynamics for the sake of staying on topic. “I still think you should go for it.”

“What if… what if it’s not what I think it’ll be? What if I’ve turned him into someone more fictional than Eddie in my mind, and when I’m faced with how he really is now I just… I dunno…wish I didn’t come here?”

“They never are what you conjure up. They’re always better up here,” she pointed a bony finger to her temple and you focused on one of the curls in her short gray hair for a second before bringing your gaze back to hers. “I still think you should go for it.”

You huff out a laugh at her repetition, smiling sadly to yourself as you look down at your hands and notice the thin sheen of grease on them. Maybe Martha’s right. Maybe this food is gross. You grab a few napkins from the brown paper bag and wipe at your fingers.

“Just think of it this way: is it worse knowing the truth or worse never knowing?”

Eddie had been having a shit day. Actually he had been having a shit week. If he let himself truly indulge in his pessimism, he’d be acknowledging that he’s altogether just had a shit life, but he was trying not to fall into that trap. It would make him the kind of depressed and bitter that made him snap at others and then feel guilty about it—which only made him feel worse about himself.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, a sudden flare up of his insomnia throwing off his circadian rhythm. He thought with how busy his schedule was that he’d knock out the second his head hit the pillow, but he only seemed to be exhausted until he finally laid down. Then was when his thoughts randomly chose to run and his heart would race with the sudden surge of anxiety-inducing thoughts. He was beginning to feel so overwhelmed by everything that his eyes burned with the beginnings of hot tears but he wiped at them carelessly with the heels of his hands before they could become too real. In his mind, they didn’t exist until they fell.

Eddie ached with exhaustion that only seemed to let up when he could actually get a shot at some rest. He ached with loss and grief. He ached with pure misery and painful seclusion and a silent trailer—besides the occasional buzz of electricity through his lamp that he turned back on when he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, or the groan of the old mobile home settling against its cinder blocks. The upcoming season made itself known through the ever growing chill that formed at night and occasionally blew through every crack and crease of the trailer, making him shiver and pull his blankets up before inevitably growing hot again and kicking them away.

He missed his friends that he rarely saw. Everyone is busy nowadays. He missed Wayne who… god, he couldn’t even think about it. He missed Chrissy who lit up his world Spring of ‘86 just for them to drift apart. People seemed to drift from him a lot. People seemed comfortable with forgetting him and giving a brief call only when they got a pang of guilt at any reminder that they were getting awfully close to leaving him behind. But who was he to drag them down? It was heart-aching enough to live the way he did sometimes, let alone when people acknowledged just how heart-aching it was. Sometimes he even missed his dad, but he always avoided thinking too hard about him before it could sink his mood to a new level that would be hard to crawl out of.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep Wednesday night until early into Thursday morning. He settled into a deep rest around 4 AM just to be abruptly woken up by his 6:30 alarm to make sure he was at Thacher’s by 7:00.

“Fuck off…,” Eddie groaned out loud and slammed his fist down onto the alarm clock, never lifting his face from where it was planted right against his worn pillow.

He laid there for what felt like forever, but was really only a few minutes before he finally peeled himself out of his spot. Forcing himself from the comfort of his old mattress was never easy, especially when he couldn’t rely on any excuses he made up as a teenager to just flop right back into his bed. He had to get up. He had to work.

He went to make his usual toast just to see there was only the end piece left in his loaf of bread, and let out a guttural groan of frustration as he tilted his head back. He forgot to stop at the store. Grumbling a bitter so that’s how today’s gonna go under his breath, he shoved the sad excuse for a slice of bread into the toaster and then began looking through the kitchen for something else to satiate him until lunch.

He wound up eating what was left in his jar of peanut butter with a spoon after slathering the small piece of toast with jelly. He didn’t have time to clean a travel mug (which he forgot to clean last night) so he took a regular one with him on his commute, and wound up dumping his coffee all over himself mid-sip when he had to stop short for a kid suddenly biking across the road. The young teen laughed at the close call and made his way to the other side of the street. Eddie glanced down at his drenched t-shirt and coveralls, releasing his third irritated groan of the morning while he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of his van before focusing back on the road and moving his foot to the gas. He focused on taking deep breaths as he gripped the steering wheel and made his way to the shop.

Thankfully, Linda had already started a pot of coffee in the break room which he happily drank and patted at his wet clothing with one of the blue shop towels. Staining was inevitable and it really didn’t matter with the coveralls anyways, but that didn’t mean he had to be damp. Taking that moment at the start of his shift helped with his mood, but the amount of customers bitching over the phone about how long it was taking to get their cars back were steadily draining him back into a surly mood. The most he had to look forward to and keep himself from unnecessarily snapping at someone was the fact that it was almost the weekend—and yes he would still have to work nights at The Hideout, but at least he didn’t have to get up early.

Never knowing was decidedly worse.

You had concluded this after ruminating on it all night—with and then without Martha’s help. And despite all of your anxieties that were just barely buried under the surface, you made yourself go to the garage again.

An obnoxious, tinny bell sounded and a dull voice said from behind a counter: Welcome to Thacher Tire. What can we do for you?

You approached carefully as if you moved too quickly, the depressing gray and beige setting around you—which held far more meaning for you than just fixing cars—would suddenly melt away and you’d wake up.

“Do you know where I could find Eddie Munson?” you asked in a soft voice, and the woman obnoxiously chomping at her gum looked up at you over the top of her glasses before looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

“He’s in the garage. Is he working on your car?”

Your heart jumped and although you hated to lie, you did.

“Yes,” you said probably too quickly, but it seemed nothing could get this woman to care.

“Wait over there, please,” she spoke in a voice that was just as greige as her place of work.

You thanked her meekly and shuffled over to one of the worn, faux leather and hard plastic seats. The room smelled of cheap pine air fresheners and the potent combination of oil, and that specific rubber scent of brand new tires. The space with the front desk and the waiting area was small enough to be cramped if it was a busy day, but since you were the only visitor at the moment you didn’t have to be confronted by the full potential of such limited space. You toyed with your hands and tried to pay attention to the fuzzy television in one corner of the room, but you couldn’t help listening in on the receptionist’s call.

“…’s a girl here to talk to ya… uh-huh… yeah I know… uh, no I don’t think so. I doubt it. Her voice is different from the one that keeps calling about the Ford. Might be though... ‘Kay.”

You anxiously wiped your sweaty palms over your jeans as you heard the clunk of hard plastic settling back into its cradle. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he did, but didn’t care? What if he thought you were weird for showing up? What if he grew up to be someone who stomps on anthills?

Your head shot up at the sound of a door opening and then closing from the back, and a man in filthy coveralls approached the woman behind the desk. He had messy, curly bangs settled on his forehead and the rest of his long hair was in a low ponytail. He was sweaty and clearly exhausted as he wiped at his forehead and left a swipe of grease in his wake, speaking quietly to the receptionist before making his way over to you. The closer he got, the better you could smell the grease and sweat and bitter coffee, but it didn’t deter you. What truly threw you were the circles under his eyes and the sort of pale cast to his skin that people got when they were fatigued or ill. You weren’t sure why a part of you expected to see an eleven year old kid approach you with a god awful buzz cut and big brown eyes, even after fourteen years.

This was it. This was your moment. The time to reclaim your best friend, and have the greatest person you had ever met back into your life. Why was your throat suddenly so dry? You swallowed anxiously and then parted your lips to speak and-

“Miss, I know you’re waiting on your car to be fixed before the weekend—I promise I’m working as quickly as I can.”

You tried not to cringe at the use of “miss” and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes wondering why he didn’t see an almost ten year old girl with a messy braid in her hair that she did by herself, complaining at him to chew with his mouth closed.

“I lied,” You said bluntly and the man stared at you in a way that felt blank and still despite his wonderment.

“I-I don’t have a car here. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He eyed you curiously, his hands slowly wiping onto an old rag. It looked like it had been used so many times, you doubted it was even picking up any filth on his hands but just moving it around instead. He was clearly thrown off by the sentiment which brought a sort of youthfulness to his face in that moment of curiosity before his features hardened.

“Listen. I’m sure whatever prank you have conjured up is hilarious, but I’m tired and trying to do my job.”

“No-- no, no,” you tried to clarify, shooting up from your seat. “I—I-”

But he was already swiftly stomping away from you towards the back, muttering to the receptionist with a quick and surely rude comment about you on his way. You were moments from being politely asked to leave, you’re sure, but the woman hesitated with a gentle expression when she saw you approach her with glossy eyes.

“Could you please just give him this?” you asked in a soft voice that you did your best to keep even, but of course it wobbled just enough to be humiliating. You could feel the heat in your face and (even worse) the moisture in your eyes so you did your best to avoid eye contact.

You outstretched your arm and she met you halfway with a nod, allowing you to drop the old friendship bracelet into her palm.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #mechanic!eddie #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #angst #slow burn #slow burn eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #bsf!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson series

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sofiareidings · 7 months

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I'm Not Yours

Summary: You're getting over a breakup and meet a cute guy on a case, what you didn't realise was that your best friend has been waiting for years. Warning: Swearing

A/N: I'm sorry my post is so late!! I had it queued up to post at 9am like normal and then it didn't?? And then I had a math test so I couldn't go on my phone or anything, AND THEN HALF THE STORY JUST DISSAPPEARED SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT?!?!? It has been quite the hassle. Also this was a prompt from @andiebeaword's 3000 follower celebration! The first sentence of the story was the prompt. Also, I meant for this to be gn!reader so if anyone sees any she/he pronouns for reader please tell me! Love you all <333

Word Count: 1.5k

Song Suggestions: Yours - Conan Gray

"I can't stand you choosing another person over me, again."

***

His bright blue eyes shined in the sun, a ray hitting across his face perfectly. Pushing his short brown hair out of his face while smiling at you made your insides flutter, completely forgetting about your ex now.

"So as I was saying, it would be best for you and your team to set up here. There's lots of room and we haven't used it in years." His voice came out in this long, deep tone. JJ walked into the room raising an eyebrow at you before taking over the conversation with the officer.

"What was that look?" Jumping slightly, you turned around and saw Penelope. It was that once a year situation where she actually had to join the rest of the team for a case. "Someone likes the officer."

The girls took any chance they could to get you to talk to the guy. They weren't wrong, you did think he was insanely cute but, you just weren't quite sure if you had the guts to really talk to him.

"I do not!" You laughed, "And even if I did…it's not like anything could happen." Penelope continued pestering and Emily joined the conversation and made sure to give her opinion as well.

***

"You better at least get his number, we're only gonna be here for a few more days." Penelope had been bugging you the most out of anyone, "Well, I let you sit on that thought. I need to go work my wonderful magics so I will talk to you about this later." She smiled and strutted away back to her laptop setup down the hall.

"What was Garcia talking about?" Turning back to the task at hand, Spencer was standing at a board. Working on the case. "Is this about that officer?" His voice was very flat, little emotion which was unusual for him. Especially around you, the two of you had been best friends since you transferred to the BAU.

"Yeah it was, she's trying to get me to get his number." Not turning from his work you started to flip through some files and continue to talk. "I do think he's pretty hot, but I also think it's way too early to start putting myself out there you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess I can understand that." Peeking over his shoulder briefly to look at you. Hearing the way you were talking about this guy was leaving him conflicted. The first day he had met you he'd already fallen in love. No statistic or math problem could explain how that happened. He's been sitting on the sideline for the past three years, watching you go from boyfriend to boyfriend, letting him be your shoulder to cry on when it was heartbreak after heartbreak. But honestly, he didn't know how long he could keep going like this.

"...But it could also be some type of fate thing. Like, I break up with a toxic asshole and then meet a dreamy police officer? I don't know, what do you think Spencer?" Walking over to him to put up some photos and thoughts on the board you look up at him, waiting for his response.

"Whatever you think is best I suppose," It took him a long time to respond, the way you were speaking of this guy was just breaking his heart more and more. It was taking all his power to not just scream 'I LOVE YOU!!' and see your reaction. "Do you want to ask him out."

"I think so, I guess he is really nice, and really good looking…" Going on about him a bit more, you paused then changed your thought process. "I mean everything and everyone is telling me to go for it but some small part of me is saying no."

"I think I'm just being paranoid, why shouldn't I put myself out there? It has been like three months. And if it doesn't work out, so what? At least I tried. I think I'll do it." Just like that, the hope died. Should he just say it? Get it out there and hope for the best? This was impossible.

"What does that mean? Are you just not ready to put yourself out there again or is it because there's someone else?" A small glimmer of hope ignited in him, maybe he still had a chance after all.

***

"I'm going to do it. So you can stop annoying me about it, Pen." She smiled and started to ramble about how it will be so good for you. The case had been solved and you were all packing up. Everyone with the exception of Hotch and Rossi were in the room given to the team.

"I'm so glad you're going to do this! You two would be such a sexy pair I just know it." You and Penelope continued to talk, but Spencer was just heartbroken. Standing on the opposite side of the room he could still hear you. He was packing up his things slowly, hoping to get a chance to talk to you alone.

"You should just go for it kid, don't let them get with another guy without you atleast saying it." Derek, giving his opinion to Spencer while leaning against the wall. Tossing a ball now that he was all packed up.

"What if you say something and they like you back?" Derek counter protested. Spencer thought about it for a minute, he had a point. But on the other hand he couldn't tell what would be worse; watching you ask someone else out again or telling you and losing such an important person in his life.

"I know, I just don't want to ruin three years of friendship. What if I say something and they never talk to me again?" He questioned, still listening in on your conversation.

***

"I'll be done in a minute!" You called out to Penelope and Emily. Still packing up your things it was only you and Spencer left in the room.

Finally throwing your bag over your shoulder you started to catch up to the rest of the team you heard Spencer call out to you. "Wait! Can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"Yeah, of course." A little confused on why he sounded so nervous you stood infront of him, waiting for him to continue. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing it's just," He cleared his throat, no or never. "I was just wondering if you gave that officer your number yet."

"Oh, not yet. I was actually about to do that. Why do you ask?" Titling your head, curious. He started to fidget with his hands, not sure what to say.

"Oh, so you are going out with him." His voice barely above a whisper. "That's nice I suppose."

"Okay…" You smiled and started to head to the door. "I'm going to go now, see on the jet Spencer?"

"I- please, I need to say something." He tripped over his words, come on Spencer, just say it!!!

"Are you okay? You seem nervous." Why was he acting like this? It was so confusing to you.

"Okay, I'm just going to say it." He sighed, "I don't want you to go out with that officer. I mean if you really want to you should do it of course but I don't want you to because I want you to go out with me. If you don't feel the same way tell me but it's just, I can't stand you choosing another person over me, again." Biting the inside of his cheek, waiting for your response.

"Oh," Was all you could say at first. You didn't really know what else to say. "You, you like me?"

"Yeah, I do. And if you don't feel the same way I get it and pretend I never said anything because I don't want to lose you. But if you go out and date this guy I'm going to have to put up a boundary, I'm sorry."

"Spencer, I don't know what to say," You laughed lightly, not sure how to say what you were thinking. "I feel the same way, I just assumed you never would like me back so I have been trying to get over it."

"Really?" He smiled and gave that puppy-dog face he always made. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I lie?" Throwing your bag over your shoulder you hugged him then stepped back giving a small smile. "We should go though, the jet is supposed to leave like now. But can we talk about this later?"

"I would like that." The two of you started to head out, and you completely forgot about the officer. Spencer just walked out with a huge smile on his face. Why didn't he say this sooner???

#criminal minds #sofiareidings #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #bau #fandom #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #andies3kwritingcelebration

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shirozora-draws · 7 months

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Y'ALL.

LOOK WHAT ARRIVED IN THE MAIL TODAY. SPARKLY STICKER SAMPLE, CHARM SAMPLES, LANYARD SAMPLES.

HOWEVER.

ALL THAT AND THEY FUCKED UP THE LANYARDS. I HAVE 10 EACH OF THESE FUCKERS. THEY'RE ALL PRINTED LIKE THIS. ARE YOU SERIOUS. AFTER FOLLOWING THE TEMPLATE AND EVERYTHING, THEY STITCHED THE SIDE THAT SHOULD BE UPSIDE DOWN.

BUT LOOK AT THIS SHIT. THEY'RE SO CUTE. THEY'RE ALL SO CUTE. I LOVE THEM. OMIGOD.

Can't wait to get an explanation from Vograce and can't wait to put the finishing touches on the pop-up shop project.

(also I need a better setup for taking photos fml)

#shirozora draws #shirozora's pop-up shop #dinluke #skydalorian #clan of three #din djarin #luke skywalker #grogu #oc: cheen yofree #the mandalorian #star wars #series: dangerous dreams #the acrylic charms are amazing af #but i am so annoyed with the lanyards

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baemaxbaebee · 4 months

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your favorite stoner cutie needs a new and improved light setup for her birfday to make even better more fun spicy content for you 💗

anyone who wants to be a sweet bean and helps gets a photo set and a super fun spicy video for being so sweet and supportive always 🥺💗

tips count too! $tawnyisacolor

birthday celebration sale over on the spicy site 🥳

cum celebrate with me 💗🎉

#me #baemaxbby #girls with tattoos #cannababes #thick thighs save lives #alt girls #alt grl #girls with colored hair #girls who smoke weed #$tawnyisacolor

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emi-simps · 1 year

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some kenma headcanons i have

tw; none that i can think of but am open to changing if necessary just send me an ask. :)

a/n: not edited definitely grammatical errors but i'm lazy and don't care :D

kenmas main love language is gift giving.

he definitely gets you your own gaming setup that’s the same as his, but it’s themed after your favorite things and colors.

Do you need one with that much top-of-the-line equipment if you’re just a casual gamer? no absolutely not, and he knows this, but he knows it’s some of the best equipment and that’s why he got it

he also gifts you new games on things like steam without even asking, you’ll just get on and see an inbox full of games or add on's he gifted you.

kuroo jokingly calls him your sugar daddy

if you ever ask why or express that you don’t think you’re worthy of all of his gifts he’s actually so confused cause he’s just so in love with you that the idea that you don’t deserve the best is actually impossible to him

he also expresses how he’s so thankful for you cause he’s not stupid, he knows being with him can’t be easy cause he’s always so busy and there’s times where he has no time to spend with you even though he always does his best to give you as much time or attention as he can

he’s always ready to drop whatever he’s doing if you need him though, no matter if he’s streaming or in a meeting for his company he’ll always come when you need him.

he’s definitely the type to remember everything, even if you don’t think he’s listening.

if you come to tell him something while he’s gaming, he’ll specifically turn the volume down so he can hear you better, he’d even go as far as to mute who he’s playing with if they get too loud or distracting.

definitely the type of boyfriend where he thinks you look beautiful/handsome no matter what, even when you first wake up with bed head, morning breath and the lines from the pillowcase on your cheek.

takes off your birthday/anniversary every year, no matter what, if it falls on one of his streaming days, he’ll tweet to his fans that the stream is being moved, he mentions why and won’t even apologize cause his fans know by know that you come first always, and its fine cause they love you. if there’s a meeting that way, he has them either reschedule it or leaves it up to someone he trusts to act in his place.

has a bunch of candid photos of you, ones where you know he’s taking pictures of you as well but there’s just something about candid pictures that make his heart clench, and when i say a bunch, i mean a bunch, if anyone sends him any they're being saved.

his lock-screen and home screen are both photos of you, his password is either your birthday or your anniversary.

his lap is always open to you if you want to sit and cuddle or chat, even if he’s streaming, he’ll gently kiss your temple and whisper asking if you’d like him to log off, and he knows when your no is genuine and when you’re just saying no because you don’t want to upset anyone.

he’s quick to shut down rumors that you’re controlling, manipulating or abusing him in any way, assuring his fans that everything he does for you he does of his own volition.

“Kodzuken is a simp” starts trending after that, you and kuroo make jokes about it cause, people just now realized? he doesn’t care though, he’s so i love with you he’d do anything for you.

if he’s ever drained, he’ll absolutely just find you and either plop down next to you and cuddle up if you’re sitting or lying down or if you’re standing just come and hug you before nuzzling his face into you.

#emi.simps #kenma imagine #kenma x reader #kenma drabble #kenma scenario #haikyuu kenma #kenma fluff #kozume kenma #kenma x you #kenma kozume #haikyu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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urbancripple · 10 months

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I Find Disability Drama Annoying

I can find "Did you hear X disabled person with a large online following did Y?" or some stupid shit all day but can't find real disabled people show photos of their EDC, or strap setup, bag recommendations. I can't find wheelchair reviews, recommendations for spare parts, or brands that sell reasonable prices.

Everyone is so fucking focused on chasing clout and being a "influencer" or "promotional speaker" or whatever instead of giving actual, tangible, meaningful advice about living with a disability (especially one that requires a complex mobility aid).

I fucking hate it. Google is worthless (though for different reasons), and Reddit is just people asking for vague advice displayed in an incomprehensible format.

Tumblr is a lot of the same shit just with a better API policy.

I wish more people just ran their own sites and posted meaningful, practical shit. Because when I need advice or a recommendation, I can't find it.

And yeah, I'm old. And I remember when the internet was more than 5 websites that steal everyone's content for ad clicks.

#disability

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tickle-minion · 7 months

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The Photo Shoot

Pretty safe for work tickling story. Ended up a bit longer than I expected, but what can you do?

------

Ryan always knew he was going to make it big. Ever since he was in high school he’d always gotten the lead parts in the school plays, and now that he was in university he was showing success in independent student productions. Of course he didn’t make any money off of any of those, and tuition for his school was expensive, which meant he had to work and had thousands in student loans to look forward to once he was done. He took this all in stride since he knew there was a pot of gold at the end of this very expensive rainbow.

One thing Ryan knew he needed if he was going to continue trying to be an actor was to get some professional pictures taken for auditions. So far he’d gotten free head shots taken by photography students. The problem is you get what you pay for, and some of the shots were clearly student work.

Luckily for Ryan, there were other photographers in town who were willing to work with students to get them some professional shots at a reduced rate. After a few days of searching, Ryan came across a photographer named Jay. He liked what he saw on Jay’s website (and liked his student discount even more) so he made an appointment to meet him. The two met for a consultation and Ryan booked a time slot to come to Jay’s studio.

On the day of the shoot, Jay brought several pairs of clothes to wear. Something formal, something casual, some streetwear, etc. When it came to the casual look, Jay instructed Ryan to take off his shoes and socks.

“Take them off? Why?”

“Shows vulnerability. Most people don’t show their feet at all, so it exposes a little bit more of you.”

Ryan wasn’t entirely convinced, but he still pulled off his shoes and socks and continued with the session.

It may have been his imagination, but Ryan felt that Jay kept glancing down at his bare feet. It wasn’t super obvious, and as far as Ryan could tell his feet were never the focus of any shots, but Jay’s eyes kept trailing down to them. Strange, yes, but Ryan didn’t want to cause a scene when he felt there was so much on the line.

Finally, with that last shot, they were done.

“Alright Ryan, that just about wraps it up. I think we got some good shots, but it will take me a few days to go through and clean them up.”

“Wow, alright, thanks. I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to see how they turn out.”

Ryan started to put his socks back on.

“Hey, kid, before you go any further, I have a business proposition for you. That is, if you’re looking to make a few bucks.”

Ryan stopped and looked over at the photographer. Extra money was never a bad thing.

“I mean, money is money, I guess. What are you looking for? This isn’t something dirty, is it? Because I’m not taking off my clothes.”

“Don’t worry, you’re already as undressed as you’d need to be. I just want to make a little video to post on my website.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve seen your website. You don’t have videos.”

The photographer gave a large toothy grin.

“Not that website, a different one. Here, come and take a look.”

Jay motioned for Ryan to follow him to the back of the studio where he had a large computer setup. Camera equipment and props were everywhere.

“Alright, just better not be anything too freaky.”

Ryan walked over to the far end of Jay’s studio on bare feet. When he got to the computer he was shocked by what he saw on the screen.

“Are those guys getting… tickled?”

Jay nodded and scrolled down the page a bit, showing Ryan more videos. Each one showed a young man (around Ryan’s age) being tickled. Some were tied up, some had their feet in stocks, and some just had their ankles being held down. Most were dressed like Ryan (which is to say fully dressed except for the shoes and socks), but others were in various states of undress. No one looked naked, though.

“Yup. Tickling sells well, you know. Lots of guys, and hell, women too, love seeing guys getting tickled. And it pays.”

Ryan’s ears perked up.

“People are willing to pay?”

“Oh sure. People are willing to pay for these videos if the model is cute and ticklish enough. And I have to say kid, you’re the exact type of guy they like to see.”

Ryan didn’t have much to say. His eyes stayed glued to the screen.

“I’ll make you a deal. You let me tickle you a little bit, just your feet so you don’t have to take anything else off, and not only will I not charge you for the shots, but I’ll actually give you a bit of what the video makes. What do you say?”

Ryan wanted to say no right away, but he hesitated. Not only would he get his shots for free, but he’d also get some cash for it, too? It seemed too good to be true.

“I mean… alright. I guess. As long as this is just tickling. I’m not doing anything else.”

“Alright, sounds good. And don’t worry, all I do is tickle guys, nothing else.”

Jay explained what would happen: Ryan would lay face down on a couch in the studio, so no one could see his face, and hang his bare feet over the side of the couch. Jay would sit on his legs and tickle his feet. It sounded easy enough. Ryan lay down, letting Jay move his body a little bit for the camera, and let himself relax (as much as he could). Once he was in place, Jay set up the camera and started recording.

Ryan was laying down on his stomach, bare feet on the arm of the couch, when he felt Jay straddle his ankles.

“Alright folks, this is our new tickle toy Brad. This is his first time with us, so let’s see how ticklish he is.”

Ryan (apparently going by the name Brad) tensed his whole body, waiting for whatever was supposed to come. Suddenly, he felt one finger on his right sole. It started up near his heel and trailed down towards his toes. Ryan flexed and curled his foot at the light ticklish sensation. No one had ever touched his feet (not that he could remember, anyways) so it was a strange feeling. The finger repeated the same movement on his left sole. This time Ryan wiggled a little bit under Jay, his foot waving side to side.

“Got some squirming going on it looks like. Let’s try something a little more ticklish”

One finger, one at a time, on each sole was suddenly replaced with five fingers on each sole. Those fingers dug into the insteps of his feet, scratching the soft sensitive skin there. Ryan jumped (though stayed pinned down by Jay’s weight) and started to kick his feet.

“Oh shit, what the fuck?!”

“Oh yeah, we got a ticklish one here.”

The fingers really worked their way in there, kneading the flesh of his feet. Ryan kept trying to kick those tickling fingers away, but Jay’s grip was just too strong. There was nothing that Ryan could do to make it stop. He could, of course, always say stop, but then he’d have to pay for his headshots. That was a huge motivation to stay here on the couch.

Several minutes after just assaulting the center of his feet, the hands started roaming over the real estate that was Ryan’s soft size 12 soles. The fingers came up to Ryan’s heels and attacked. Ryan jumped, and was suddenly barking out with laughter when Jay found an especially ticklish spot: the part of his sole right before his heel.

“Oh, sounds like we got a live one here!”

“NOO! PLEEEEASE!”

Fingers descended on that spot on each foot. It wasn’t just fingers working their way into the foot, but now nails were scraping and scratching too. The only thing Ryan’s over stimulated mind could think of was that this was like ringing a doorbell. It was loud, it was intense, and it was beyond annoying that Jay found this spot that reduced him to a laughing mess.

“Holy crap is he sensitive right here. How are you doing Brad? Want me to stop?”

“Y-Y-YES PL-PL-PLEEEEASE!”

“No? You’re all good? Sounds great to me!”

“NOOO!”

Jay continued to exploit the sensitive spot, attacking viciously with his fingers. Ryan was sure he was going to pass out when the tickling mercifully ended.

“Th-thank God…”

“He thought that was bad, wait till he gets a load of this…”

“Wait, what?!”

“Here comes the brush!”

Ryan’s entire body jolted when a broad hairbrush started attacking that same sensitive spot. The brush moved violently back and forth with cruel abandon. This was the worst feeling yet. Ryan was in absolute hysterics, thrashing as much as he could, trying to buck Jay off his legs. His feet kicked and squirmed to get away, one foot trying to cover the other for protection. His face and throat were starting to get sore from the laughter.

“Oh yeah, we got him right here.”

Not even able to say anything, Ryan continued to cackle. The brush alternated between feet, and each time it switched feet it was like the first time all over again. Tears were starting to stream from his tightly shut eyes. This was the first time he truly regretted his decision, and despite the promise of free shots and money, he found the urge to call out stop was right on the tip of his tongue. He bit it back though, he wasn’t going to give up.

The tickling changed, and now the brush was going up and down his soles. Again, Ryan tried curling his foot up to avoid the tickling, but Jay grabbed Ryan’s toes and flexed them back, stretching his sole out. Jay’s grip was too strong and Ryan wasn’t able to escape. He laughed and giggled, unable to stop as the brush scrubbed up and down his flexed sole. People got off on this? Ryan figured they must all be sadists.

“Let’s see how ticklish Brad’s toes are.”

The brush stopped for just a second (giving Ryan exactly one second of peace) before attacking the toes that Jay was holding back. Oh god. This was bad. This was worse than the spot hear his heels. This was like fire. Ryan didn’t just laugh, he was screaming. Tears were flowing so freely that he could taste them on his lips. He wanted to yell stop, he wanted this tickling to end, but he couldn’t form the words.

Jay continued tickling those toes, holding them tightly, even as the feet started to become slick with sweat. This of course made the brush slide and glide all the more easily. The brush scrubbed the tips of the toes all the way down to the sensitive little gap under each toe.

The tickling continued for a few minutes until finally, mercifully, it stopped.

“There we go, that was Brad. I think he did pretty well. Let me know if you want to see more of this boy.”

Jay concluded by slapping both of Ryan’s sensitive soles, making him jump and squeak.

Jay got up off of Ryan and turned off the camera.

“There we go kid, that’s it. You did good, I have to say, I think you’re going to be pretty popular.”

“Holy shit that was bad. Like… holy shit. You were torturing me.”

Jay laughed.

“That’s why they call it tickle torture. People love it.”

Ryan didn’t want to stick around much longer. He got up off the couch (his clothes were sticking to his body from all the sweat), put his shoes and socks back on (which was hard since his feet were so sensitive after the tickling), thanked Jay and left.

Several days later two things dropped in Ryan’s email. The first was a set of edited photographs. Ryan was happy to see that they looked professional and much better than any of the student work he’d had done so far. The second was much more interesting. It was an e-transfer for a couple of hundred dollars.

Ryan stared at the screen for a few minutes before he decided to call Jay.

“Hello?”

“Hey man, It’s Ryan. Thanks for the pictures, I just got them. They’re really good”

“No worries, I’m happy you’re happy.”

“So… what was the money you sent?”

“I told you that you’d get a bit of the money from the tickle video. It was pretty popular right off the bat, so that’s your share.”

“All that for just letting you tickle my feet?”

“Oh yeah. And if you’re ever interested we could do it again. You could maybe even make some more next time.”

“Like… how much more?”

“Depends on how far you’re willing to go. There’s some bondage, there’s some upper body tickling, there’s even some foot worship and tickling that drives some people wild. You interested?”

Ryan looked at the e-transfer again.

“Yeah, maybe. Tell me more.”

#malefeet #feet #gayfeet #male tickling #guy feet #male feet story #tickling #gay tickling #gay foot play #male foot story #tickle community #sfw tickling community #tickle kink #male tickling story #tickle content #m/m tickling

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sweetracha · 1 year

Text

First Sleep Over with Stray Kids

Perfect Night: Hyunjin

Sugar Content: Sugary Sweet (Fluff), Sour Sweet (Angst)

Allergy Warning: Hopeless romantic couple, Idea of perfection, Hints to anxiety and feeling trapped

Perfect. This all had to be perfect. You had to be perfect because he was perfect.

The definition of perfection drilled in your head all day and you just wanted it out. You felt like you were walking on pins and needles making every choice for the night. What to wear? What to bring? Should you wear makeup? Will you be as perfect as he thinks you are?

You met Hyunjin during an art class held at the local library every Saturday. Upon entering the room you smelled the toxic aroma of paint and thinner. Canvases were placed upright in a circle as if to shield what lay within. A small round podium, marble, of course, waited for you among the soon-to-be masterpieces. The blank white surfaces would soon be filled by your city's local creative masterminds. The subject tonight was you.

Life on your own as a free spirit came at a cost. While you made enough to make ends meet monthly you found yourself sinking into a deeper and deeper hole. No one can work day in and day out without going insane. You needed an outlet, some sort of fun, but that would cost money you didn't have. So were destined for bleak and bland existence until your friend showed you the posting from the local library. “Semi-Nude Female Model Needed for Saturdays Artist Event”. You could never do that, could you? Maybe this is what you needed, to put yourself out there. It's only semi-nude so it isn't like the artists would see the whole thing. Finally, after a silent fight in your mind, you convinced yourself. The only way to grow is to find comfort in the uncomfortable.

After meeting with the kind lady who ran the show, you were whisked away to the changing room. Actually, it was one of the college study rooms with a black bedsheet hung over the window. On the table, in front of you was a white silk wrap and an inspirational photo on how to wear it. The whole setup seemed cheesy but you followed through anyways. Stripping down into your natural body, you carefully wrapped the silk around you. It took a few tries and a few more curse words but finally, you managed to make it look like the picture. It draped over your body like a cascading waterfall. A small part of your chest peaked out to hint at the suggestion but stayed away from being porn-ish. Your silhouette was highlighted by the fabric, a shadowy tease of what's truly underneath. You had to say, it looked perfect.

Once you exited the room you found a chair resting on the podium that wasn't there before. The kind artist from earlier came to you and after close examination of your attire, explained how you were to pose for the night. She made you feel more comfortable by showing you a few options and joking around that they will look prettier when you do them. After one more wavery breath, you took your seat. The wood was warm in comparison to the frozen marble beneath your bare feet. You shivered a bit but that didn't last long. As the first few artists made their way to their stations the heat of nerves filled your body. But once you saw him you began to burn red hot.

He was tall and handsome with long blonde hair, neatly tied back in a ponytail. If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was royalty. His denim shirt had paint stains from all different types of mediums but yet they looked so precise. The posture he stood with screamed pretentious artist however the soft look on his face as he took in the surrounding seemed down to earth. The artist seemed to have walked out of the painting itself, of course, the best way to describe him would be…perfect.

You weren't sure how you managed to sit like a stone through hours of painting but finally, the last artist had finished. In a way that was almost clique, the ground got up and began to roam the gallery of now-finished pieces. All but one. The gentle one from before walked to you with the grace of a dancer. You were startled when he broke the hours of silence.

“Here let me help you down” He extended his hand towards you. Even his voice and the way he offered a hand seemed regal. You didn’t trust your own so instead you gently placed your hand in his and offered a small nod. As you stood up from the chair you lost your balance and the man was quick to catch you. Your red-blushed face met his own, and a small smile appeared on his face as he held you for a split second longer.

“Hyunjin by the way, my name is Hyunjin”

Everything happened so fast after that. Dinner dates, museum dates, walks in the park, high tea in your fanciest gowns, and more modeling. Any outsider would have looked at the collection of photos of you two and thought you were happily together for years. However, in actuality, it had only been a month. What could you say? When something is this perfect, go for it.

Hyunjin was set to be an esteemed guest at an art gallery a few cities over and there was no one he rather take than you, his muse. That is what he called you ever since that fateful meeting. The only issue was that Hyunjin had to be there bright and early for some events happening around the gallery. Plus ones were encouraged to go. How could you say no when he looked at you with those big perfect eyes? Of course, this resulted in you having to spend the night at his place, which you weren’t opposed to. But seeing someone during the day vs at night can be completely different. What if you failed to be his muse once more?

The first hour went smoothly as you two shared a nice home-cooked meal. Hyunjin claims he made it all on his own but his friend Minho accidentally left his wallet on the counter. You giggled to yourself and decided to keep your little secret. A bit of sauce did happen to fall on your white top and begin to settle in. Normally this wouldn't have been a big issue but this top was nice, way too nice for a sleepover, but you didn’t want to seem too plain. You excused yourself to the bathroom and tried to not panic as you washed away the little dot of tomato. However when it began to look like a wet t-shirt contest, panic set in. You managed to sneak over to your suitcase and find a change of clothing. When he questioned the new attire you explained you were getting warm.

The night moved into the art studio where Hyunjin had a surprise. Fairly lights were strung up around the room and dangled from the ceiling. A romantic vinyl spun slowly around the record player. Sage and green tea candles scented the tiny space. In the middle were two white canvases on their easels facing each other. You should be swept off your feet by the pure theatrics of it all but instead, you were mortified. Then he spoke.

“Let's paint each other, my love, and be each other's inspiration” his hand cradled your waist now as he leaned into your ear. “To be each other's muse”

Your fears came true. It wasn't that you were bad at art, you always enjoyed it since you learned how to hold a pencil. But Hyunjin did it professionally, you were far from that. He would make you look like a goddess while you'd make him a troll. Then you saw the childish look in his eyes, something you had never seen before. He was excited. Had you never seen him genuinely excited before? You shook the thought from your head and took your place at the canvas.

It was going better than you thought it would. By no means was your painting one for the art history books but it had a charm to it. Hyunjin on the other hand was not having a good time. He kept cursing under his breath and taking long steps back. Once he noticed you caught on he began saying long phrases in Korean instead. While you didn’t know what he was saying, the tone and infliction were enough to let on to his frustration. At one point he dropped his pallet and threw his hands up in the air as a sign of defeat. You tried to give him a gentle look to ask if he was okay but every time he caught your eye he would look away. Silence hung in the air like a thick smog. Sage and green tea overtook your senses. The fairy lights twinkled at an unnerving rate. Everything seemed far from perfect.

“Jinnie…Jinnie…hey Jin? HYUNJIN” The boom of your voice made him smear his paintbrush across the canvas harshly. You gulped, worried about what would happen next. Preparing yourself for the yelling that was soon to come you began to step away and close yourself off. Hyunjin was taken aback by it all. He stepped towards you and you stepped away. Did you really think he would hurt you? Hyunjins heart broke as he began to speak.

“Baby…angel…Y/N I’m not mad…I promise. I’m upset with myself for not being able to paint you correctly. I know you! I should be able to capture you but every time I look at it I don’t recognize the person in the picture.”

You began to step towards him now, wanting to wipe the tears from his eyes. He came to you seeking comfort. Right as you were about to embrace, someone stepped on a loose fairy lights cord. In a matter of seconds, it all came crashing down. Hyunjin braced you from the fall and you both smashed into the ground. Canvases and paint pallets landed on top of you while lights tied you two up in a bow. It was silent. And then there was laughter. Actual laughter. It was ugly and loud. Hyunjins whole body shook as he couldn't stop laughing with his whole self. You joined in, snorting a few times which made you both howl. Your faces hurt as you both began to come down from that high. Then, the reality set in that you two had never heard each other laugh like this before.

“I figured it out,” Hyunjin said with an out-of-breath sign. You looked at him puzzled. “The person in the painting didn’t feel like you because it wasn’t you, I don’t know you at all.” You began to sit up quickly, ready to run out the door with a broken heart. He grabbed your wrist and sat up with you. “Y/N, the person I painted wasn’t who I fell for” he got up and grabbed a large frame that was flipped around. “This was” With that he showed you the painting he made on the first night you met. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see it yet. He hadn’t painted you as a poised lady propped up in a chair wrapped in silk. Instead, he opted for the moment where, when you thought no one was looking, you yawned and then giggled a bit. Everything was perfect down to the way you stretched your feet to a point and how your eyes closed tight. It hit you, his muse wasn’t you in an expensive gown on fancy dates. His muse was the real you.

He leaned down in front of you and offered a sweet smile. “How about we start again? Hi my name is Hyunjin”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

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