#the sheer frustration . like i know how i want to draw it but i can ONLY do thumbnails of it rn

[atomic87]

have this idea for a pentiment thing i want to make (digitally) but i'm not even close to home. like get me back there NOW i need to draw my Sad European People

#the sheer frustration . like i know how i want to draw it but i can ONLY do thumbnails of it rn #since i need to draw andreas more it's about him #i'm thinking MAYBE i could write it but also i'm not confident in my skills at all lol #so i shall wait...... #august and andreas and sabine maler i will draw you So Soon

[dexaroth]

it's kind of a fun move to make my very very personal blog also the one I post my drawings on

ive purposefully done it to not create that kind of environment where it's just an account posting art, a one-dimensional abstract thing that's so detached that if I were to post something like 'teehee I tried to off myself so I'm opening comms to pay the bills' it'd be met with utmost surprise bc it'd break the illusion yknow?

but sometimes I do want some drawings to not have context. to be as impersonal as a vintage figure whose sculptor has never been fully known or a golden locket with the picture of someone who you don't know anything about

I want both, to be honest. it's always been a struggle of the need of external validation but also to not want to taint everything with myself

I want to draw a pet portrait for someone and not have it be judged with all the ramblings and half-jokes about how everything sucks every now and then.

I want to draw a guy being mechanically separated for no reason and not have it show up besides someone's pet portrait and having to explain to the average person I don't even know why I like gore so much besides rendering it is fun

it's all like a cycle of making it clear who is behind the art for context but also sometimes wanting everything to speak for itself and wanting a sort of pure reaction to it

and it culminates into that overly familiar feeling.. of wanting to be consistent. to have a feel, a look that you can maybe hope someone will identify as yours.. and the question is always the same - for what? why? why does it matter?

if anything the first thing I'd ever say to someone who remotely showed interest in art and wanted to know my side of it is that nothing matters and everything is subjective and that there will always be people who see too much meaning where there isn't and people who miss the point entirely. and that diversity is just as good as quality and not a binary switch that you have to pick for the rest of your life. and that often by trying to achieve perfection you just end up dumping what gave your art a personal touch because it wasn't absolutely on par with the version of you that you so desperately want people to identify you with or the vibe you want to give off or whatever else

it's kind of a problem that also has different connotations depending on the way wherever you post works, too

on devart and I think insta too favorites and likes are the easiest way to show a kind of support that happens to streamline everything into images on a page instead of actually taking in most detail, the title or description or lack thereof, maybe even a message or line or music lyric intended to aid in the perception.. that ends up getting completely ignored because it takes extra effort to do. and it gets exponentially worse the more people you follow

then, well.. tumblr. because of the way the posts are organized and at least show captions it has a bit of a leg up, but then the sideblog stuff comes up. posts 95% of the time only give traction to the account that posted it, so a sideblog where you reblog your art is pretty much just a gallery for the convenience of whoever follows them. if you post on that sideblog however, then that facilitates no one visiting your main and just looking at the drawings, leading to the art-artist detachment as it is also plenty of extra steps and effort

then, independently, the path you choose is hard to undo. choose to be unknown and be bound to the façade you have to keep and not break your persona, or put all bits of yourself out to the public and there will forever be an image/ background version of you that will contextualize everything you do

try to turn around and choose to hide and it will put people off and affect how some will look at your new stuff now that you're less of a social butterfly because of the instinct of curiosity and wanting to know what happened , choose to show yourself and now you're too real and people don't want to associate with you because of the things you express or how it hits different knowing x and y or just not caring about you enough to be bothered to keep up with your life with sporadic drawings inbetween

it's all ironically about your own self-image and knowing others who know you

oh and it just hit me the financial side of things too. but that's too much for me rn and it's sort of a bonus to my point anyways

idk man. I feel like I'm having a stroke while an influencer tries to explain branding to me

#the public vs hidden thing is also like trying to balance the evils #do you want to enable being made fun of by quirky neurotypicals and edgelords bc of ur 'archetype' #or do you want to enable everyone to put any meaning to your art including dogshit ones and treat it like a commodity #public enough to have your name or style used pejoratively to describe other people #or hidden enough to blend in and represent nothing and say nothing. just like a blank piece of paper #these two sort of types are everywhere and there just doesnt seem to be a grey area. its just.... awkward. #ah yes look at my painting and tell me what you think of it! dont take me into consideration at all though. pretend this came out of thin> #>air bc thats how i want it to be perceived. bc of course we all know thats a thing that can be controlled by sheer will right? lol #i want to draw whatever. i want to stop giving a shit. not care of what people think its all about. but i want to be seen as well. .. #and its frustrating bc i find it immeasurably valuable to find meaning in the mundane #to find the whimsy and care on someone's 'bad' stickman cat doodle even tough sketches dont mean barely anything to the artist #and then i get sad when someone below my skill level finds My sketches good despite me posting them as a 'look at how bad this looks lol' #just. being desperate for wanting everything to go your way #like a filmmaker who swears the theater is an integral part of their movie when in reality a guy watching at home cherishes it just as much #i think id turn inside out of disgust if i ever truly legitimally considered all the 'wrong' ways people can experience my art #compressed to hell or they just didnt bother to zoom in and didnt notice the brushstrokes and effects #which is totally normal and common and i myself do it! but my ego says nuh uh. go feel bad bc other ppl have agency lol #i can definitely pretend i dont care anymore and even try to believe it so much i unconsciously start assimilating it #but the Moment someone comments something that contradicts what i thought and wished was happening i just. break . #im truly trying to stave off negative thoughts and teaching myself that what others think of me doesnt define me #and one day im overhearing something i wasnt meant to know and its that someone thinks im a child #and ends up treating me like one. like im too stupid to do anything #and then i look back at my eyestrain/cartoonish stuff thats in fact considered childish by people who try to use age as> #a token of 'i dont enjoy X because X is for kids because/therefore im an AdulT! respect me!' #and i just have to face the reality that thats the image of me my art gives off by itself and what society chose it to symbolize as well #which it all leads to wanting so deeply a way to control how others view you because of how age gate-keeping for example is so stupid #and it bleeds into every other feeling and paranoia and self doubt #either you act cool and lie about who you are or let others label you what they see fit especially what they consider to be deserving of> #>ridicule #dextxt

[hawnks]

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #HAPPY FOUR AM #here’s this <3 #I knowwwww there’s like a thousand typos in here I just know it #I wanted to finish this tonight I felt compelled to #also I’m so sorry if u actually know stuff about history I am just making stuff up as I go <3 #JSJSJDJDJDJD #anyway…… #one of the stranger aus I’ve written #cw: a/b/o #tw: a/b/o

[gay-dorito-dust]

For the writing requests, can I request a hurt/comfort scenario where Bi-han has accidentally hurts or almost hurts the reader with his powers? Like maybe he loses control during an argument or an intimate moment, or maybe they're training or on a mission he accidentally hits them with ice in the heat of battle. He feels really guilty about what he did, but reader knows it was an accident and tries to help him through it. Feel free to edit the scenario as you please. Thank you!

Bi-Han was furious.

No, that word doesn’t even begin to come close to describing how he felt in that moment. Bi-Han was livid and it was all in due to the sheer recklessness that you had shown during your most recent mission. You almost died on serval occasions throughout the mission but had managed to escape with minimal injuries by the skin of your teeth. However Bi-Han didn’t care about that part of the story because despite being happy and relieved as he was that you had came back to him with treatable wounds; his main focus was on the fact that you were so careless with your life, so irresponsible and so seemingly uncaring of the consequences that your actions would’ve caused had it weren’t been for your quick thinking.

So as Bi-Han was practicing patience whilst waiting for you to finish up your medical examination, you finally exited the room and just before a single word could escape your mouth to question his reason for being here, fulling believing that he would’ve been deeply involved with some Grandmaster business. Bi-Han then grabbed you by the bicep, his ice cold hand drawing a sharp gasp from you as he wordlessly dragged you to your shared room, where upon arriving, he swiftly shut the door behind him before addressing you directly. ‘What were you thinking out there!’ The cryomancer hissed, taking a step towards you. ‘Your reckless could’ve jeopardised the mission.’ Bi-Han adds and everything leading up to now had finally started to make sense.

You knew that it would only be a matter of time before word reached Bi-Han and you knew it would only be a matter of when before he would hunt you down and demand answers. ‘The only thing that you should concern yourself with is the fact that we achieved what we were sent out to do. The mission was a proven success, the method as to how we obtain that success shouldn’t matter.’ You replied straightforwardly, wanting to be done with this argument as fast as you possibly could, having already finding it redundant; and while the fact that you had gotten ahead of yourself during the mission was something worth criticising.

You weren’t new to this. You knew exactly what you were doing and you knew that Bi-Han’s frustrations often came from a place of worry and deep concern, but since he doesn’t give himself the leeway to express his innermost emotions that when he does, it comes across as him being angry or frustrated. ‘You almost got yourself killed!’ Bi-Han practically exclaimed, his hand that was clutching onto your bicep tightened it’s grip, causing you to wince as you felt a numbing or a painful tingling sensation -which one it actually was you weren’t really sure- spread across your bicep. You tried to breath through the pain and act as though Bi-Han wasn’t currently giving you frost burn, but you knew that the longer you let this went on, the more severe the damage you would sustain.

And not even a second later, your willpower to push through the pain was quickly reduced to nothing, as you found yourself wanting nothing more then the numbing, tingling pain stop. ‘Bi-Han.’ You tired saying with a steady voice but the inflictions of hidden pain within the way you said his name had him on guard. ‘Please let me go, it’s hurts, you’re hurting me.’ Was all you said in a whisper, just as a tear escaped from your eye and streaked down your cheek, before gesturing with your eyes towards the hand he had kept glued to your bicep since the beginning of your argument; which at this point had felt as though there was a small impact of ice growing from within. Upon your desperate plea to be released, Bi-Han immediately removed his hand as though you had somehow burnt him.

He watched as you whimpered and it all hit him hard that despite the fact that he had already let go, you were still very much in pain and he was the reason that you were in pain. He had let himself become overwhelmed with emotions and as a result his powers, something that he has sworn to only use as a means of protecting you, had potentially caused you irreparable damage. Bi-Han was sickened by the thought and by extension he was sickened with himself for allowing you to get hurt in the one place he promised that you’d never be hurt. Ever. ‘I hurt you.’ He said after a moment of torturous silence. ‘I was hurting you, the one person I’d swore to protect with my last breath.’ His soul was screaming, completely torn between wanting to come to your aid and comfort you but also fearing the idea of harming you more than he already had.

‘How long was I hurting you before you spoke up?’ Bi-Han asked as he gauged your expressions closely in the instance you were still withholding the rest of your pain from him.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ You say, trying to reach for his hand to hold but Bi-Han withdraw from your attempts, hiding his hands behind his back in shame as he averted your forgiving gaze that he didn’t feel he deserved.

‘It matters to me, my love.’ Bi-Han stated, clenching his fists. ‘I hurt you. Whether it was intentional or unintentional doesn’t make much of a difference when the end result is all the same. I hurt you. I caused you pain. I made you shed a tear. I made promises that I see now that I can not keep.’ The cryomancer finished as he chose to stare at the floor before closing his eyes, where he would be greeted with flashes of your pained face and the tear that streamed down your cheek; Even from behind his eyelids he was being haunted. If Bi-Han could take your pain he would without hesitation, but he couldn’t and with that brought the dreaded sense of helplessness.

‘Bi-Han.’ You uttered softly, moving to stand in front of him, watching closely as his breath hitched in his throat and took notice of how his body tensed uncomfortably into itself, as you reached your hands out to cradle his perpetually conflicted face between them before Bi-Han melted into your touch, practically nuzzling his face further into your touch. You smile at this as you proceeded to stroke the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs. ‘You didn’t mean it and I know you’d never intentionally hurt me. Ever. You’ve proven that more then enough times for me to know that you’re a man of your word.’ You told him as you pressed a kiss to his forehead, then down to his nose, then finally pecking his plush lips. ‘Your hands are the only hands I could ever feel safest within.’ You admitted, kissing his lips once again.

#mk1 #mk1 x reader #mk x y/n #mk x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x you #bi han imagine #bi han imagines #bi han x reader #bi han x y/n #bi han x you #sub zero x reader

[ghostchems]

bad idea right? - raphael x f!tav (part two)

raphael lays some ground rules for your deal and extends an invitation.

author's note: read part one here. 2.3k words. 18+, mdni please. some bickering, some groping. thigh riding. ya know, the usual. ao3 link.

“What are you writing?” 

Raphael’s quill runs off the page, a thick line of black ink staining his desk. His nostrils flare and he quickly claps his journal shut, eyeing the incubus with sheer annoyance. He clenched his jaw before giving a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he tries to let the frustration roll off of him. The last thing he wants to do is give Haarlep any ammunition. 

“My recent business dealings.” Raphael answers curtly and in one fluid motion slips his journal off his desk into a drawer. His eyes flit up Haarlep’s body before settling at his eyes and scrunches his nose. “And where have you been?” He sets down his quill and leans back in his desk chair. 

“You know I like to get some air every so often.” Haarlep yawns as he slinks onto the nearby bed, laying down on his stomach with his head propped up in his hands. “Writing smut again, are we? I can smell a certain aroma from you.” His mouth curls into a sly smile, his pointed teeth poking out from his upper lip. Raphael’s gaze falls to the incubus, eyes narrowing as his lips purse. It’s difficult for him to get frustrated with Haarlep at this point — he’s grown used to his teasing after having him in his “employment” for so long but still this situation is delicate.

“Are you jealous, dear Haarlep?” Raphael’s voice drops to a low purr. He gets up from his padded armchair and saunters over to the bed only to sit beside the other. Haarlep rolls over so that he can face him, claws immediately starting to drift up along his doublet sleeve. 

“Not jealous.” The incubus huffs, his touch drawing closer to Raphael’s stomach. “It has been quite some time since a mortal got your loins in a twist, though. Seems more receptive than your other pet.” He flashes a brilliant smile while Raphael digs his nails into the palms of his own hands, giving a vicious growl — a warning. Haarlep merely scoffs in response but he does lower his head, gaze beginning to drift around the room. “If you’re going to have her over you should probably have one of your debtors clean up the place.”

“Bringing her here is not a part of my plan currently. Are you requesting something of me?” Raphael peers down at the other as he cocks a brow. Haarlep shrugs and stays quiet for a moment before giving a huff.

“I want to see what all this fuss is about.” 

Raphael considers him, his mind quickly running through a few scenarios. Why should he share? But there it is, an opportunity underneath all the show: a deal to be made.

“Perhaps I could make some changes, but what would be in it for me?”

***

You feel a violent hand over your mouth and your eyes shoot open as a gasp rips from your throat. Once your vision settles, you’re met with those caramel eyes leering over you, Raphael’s teeth-bared and gaze sharp.

“Outside. Now.” There is venom in his voice unlike that you’ve heard from him before. He disappears in a spark of ash before you’re able to say anything — and then you realize he’s cast silence on you anyway. You feel an angry growl rumble through your chest but it’s swallowed up by the time it reaches your lips, in some ways a blessing since you don’t want to wake your companions. As you get out of bed, Astarion stirs in the one in front of you, making soft snores and every so often small whimpers? Do vampires have dreams? Your mind wanders as you put on your evening robe to fight the chill of the air. One last scan over your companions and you’re out the door, heading downstairs of the tavern and out to the alleyway.

Raphael is waiting for you, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. You hate that the first thing you think of is how radiant he looks in the pale moonlight. The dim light makes his brown eyes sparkle and the gold details on his doublet shine. Memories of the deal you made and what happened after flood your mind, replacing your annoyance with a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You open your mouth but only air tumbles out, making you clench your fists in frustration.

“No, no. You don’t get to speak yet, little mouse.” He stalks closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Rumors have made their way back to me that a certain hero has been fraternizing with an infernal being.” Raphael grits his teeth as he leans in, his eyes boring into yours. “You couldn’t wait to tell your little companions, could you?” There is anger in his voice but underneath it you swear there is a hint of teasing. He awaits your response but then gives a dramatic ah! before snapping his fingers. 

“I didn’t tell them about our deal.” You’re finally able to snap back but your voice is hoarse from the silence. “Astarion noticed! He could smell you on me. Called me a freak — but not in a disgusted way, more like… he was impressed.” Too much information but the words spill out of you. Raphael’s face remains unchanged, his lips pressed into a straight line and his brows furrowed. “He’s bad at keeping secrets… but I wasn’t sure if you would care since you left me alone at Sharess’ Caress.” 

He exhales slowly through his nose and his face seems to relax, his jaw shifting back into place and his eyes softening. One of his hands reaches for yours, which is balled into a fist at your side. His fingers graze your fist, lightly trying to loosen it before he takes your hand. Raphael’s eyes stay fixed on you, his lips starting to quirk into a barely there smile. You try to keep a straight face but his warm fingers laced with your own makes an infuriating blush rise to your cheeks.

“Did I hurt your feelings, pet?” His voice drops dangerously low as he brings the back of your hand to his lips. You roll your eyes, amazed by his nerve. Did he think he could bat his lashes and you’d be wrapped around his finger? “Mmm… forgive me, for that. Please. It’s been an eternity since someone has affected me this way.” He murmurs, averting your gaze as you swear you see a flash of embarrassment cross his face. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden candor, having only seen it once before in him. 

“You shouldn’t have left.” You remain firm but your voice is a hum, your eyes tracing over his features. “After everything we’ve been through, I thought I would have gotten special treatment.” You wriggle your hand free from his grasp as you give him a sly grin, not about to let him off the hook that easily. Raphael’shead tilts as he regards you silently for a moment, as if your playfulness caught him off guard. His lips tug into a smile and you catch his gaze fall to your mouth, then back up to meet your eyes.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. As you know, I tend to keep my word.” He all but purrs, drifting in even closer to you. 

“Well, I’d like to get it in writing.” 

“You what?” Raphael’s charming facade immediately drops, scrunching his nose. You are delighted with the way he glared at you. “Let us discuss this later — we have more pressing matters. Your companions, I am certain they aren’t very supportive of you mingling with a devil such as myself.” He presses his hand to his chest, those caramel eyes sucking you in like they always do. 

“I wouldn’t say that they are thrilled about it.” You sigh and break your eye contact. “But it doesn’t seem like a reason for them to leave, at least for now… if this is something that will continue.” He uses one of his long fingers to gently turn your head back to his gaze. 

“I would rather that they didn’t know about us, sweetling.” Raphael sounds almost sweet as he seemingly takes in every detail of your face, his hand now cupping your cheek. “Them and the entirety of the Sword Coast, at least until the Elder Brain is defeated. We don’t want the general public to think our savior is taking orders from a devil, do we?” It’s something you haven’t thought about until now. You were never one to care for optics but he isn’t wrong. “I have an idea that will put your companion’s minds at ease and take some of the heat off of us.” 

You’re hardly paying attention to what he’s saying because of how close he is. You could easily kiss him right now. What would he do? You decide to find out. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you quickly push yourself onto your tippy toes to kiss him, nearly cutting him off. Raphael’s body freezes in surprise before his hand moves from your cheek to tangle with your hair, his tongue desperately pushing into your mouth. It’s like a switch went off in his brain. He’s grabbing you, tugging at your waist so your bodies are flush against each other.

You nearly fall into him as he takes a few steps back, your hands slipping to hold onto his shoulders. Tasting him again was almost just as overwhelming as the first time, the heat of his mouth making me crave him more and more, deepening the kiss. Raphael moves quickly, both his hands suddenly gripping your thighs to pull you down with him into a chair you’re sure didn’t exist a moment ago. He has you straddling his waist, strong hands making sure you stay in place. You finally manage to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, hazy eyes meeting his gaze.

“Go to the Devil’s Fee when you’re ready — my contact will grant you entrance to my House of Hope.” Raphael’s nose traces along your jaw, his lips brushing along your neck as he speaks. He teases at your neck with his teeth, inching lower and lower, while drifting his hands along your robe to grope your breast through the light fabric. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you eliminate the remaining space between you, melting into his touch. Raphael sucks on your collarbone as he opens your robe even further, fingers toying with your nipples through your shirt before pulling it down and exposing your breasts. You’re dizzy from it all, lost in him and his expert touches and that velvet voice, lips parting to give a soft whine. 

“The hammer will be in a safe in my boudoir — an easy heist for you and your companions.” His voice is ragged, breath heavy as his mouth moves down your chest to run his tongue along your sensitive flesh. Raphael dips his hands to cup your ass and guides you along his thigh. Even through the layers of fabric the friction is delicious, making your legs tremble more and more with each drag over his thigh. You forget that you’re outside where anyone could stumble by, moaning recklessly as his lips close around one of your nipples. He flicks his tongue against it, teeth nipping it only just enough to hurt before giving it a few rough sucks. 

Your fingers move to dig into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting your head back while his mouth works over your breasts with feverish need. A growl rumbles up from his chest, feeling it against yours as you start to grind against him without his help. It all feels so reckless. Raphael’s composure is completely gone, groaning against your chest as his tongue teasing your other nipple. Your eyes fall shut and you snap your hips harshly into his thigh, chasing your release. 

And as easily as he gave into you, he takes it all away.

Raphael grabs you by the chin and wrenches you down to look at him in the eyes. You’re shuddering in his grasp as his caramel gaze sharpens, fire in his eyes. The sudden shift in mood has your mind turned upside down and your body aching to be touched by him again. 

“This part is extremely important, pet, so listen closely.” He snarls, digging his nails into your cheeks. “Do not assist Hope while you are a guest. Is that understood?” Raphael yanks you so that his lips are hovering directly over yours. You quiver at his closeness and you nod before even trying to understand what he is asking of you. All you know is that you want him now. There’s a spark in his eyes once you agree and he lets go of you gently, his hands dropping to cover you up before, leaning back in the chair with a smug look on his face. “Go on — take what you need.” 

You snap your hips immediately, flinging your hands to grab for his shoulders again. Raphael can’t stop watching your face, the way your expression twists in pleasure with each thrust, the soft groans spilling from swollen lips, basking in how much you crave him. You stare into his eyes as you do as he says, taking what you need from him until it’s all too much. You give a choked sob, hip stuttering and fingers digging into his doublet as your orgasm rips through you. His arms swallow you in his embrace, pulling you tight against his chest to help guide you back down to Earth. 

“I’ll amend your contract to reflect the changes discussed this evening.” Raphael purrs into your hair, lightly brushing his fingertips along your back. “I also have something for you – perfume that should mask my scent even from those with heightened senses of smell.” You lift your head up. A present? For you? Strangely sweet for a devil, even if it was to help with sneaking around. 

“You’ll also add your promise to the amendment, right?” You ask sweetly, the picture of innocence. He dramatically rolls his eyes.

“If you insist.”

part three

#raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #raphael bg3 x tav #bg 3 fanfic #baldurs gate fanfic #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate raphael #haarlep #haarlep bg3

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

#NO LONGER DEAD!! #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #bulkhead x reader #bumblebee x reader #arcee x reader #tfp x reader #transformers x human reader #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp optimus x reader

[morallyinept]

What a year it's been for fic writing!⭐️

There have been soooo many stories I've read and enjoyed this year, that's it's been super hard to pick favourites, and I've spent a good amount of time this year trying to narrow it down to just 25.

Listen, every single story I've read this year has been absolutely amazing. I am blown away by the sheer amount of talent and creativity we have in this fandom!

If you're not featured here on this particular list, it's not because I don't like your work or didn't enjoy it - far from it. I've simply put together a list of my personal favourites this year, based on how they made me feel, how often I re-read them, and some that have completely floored me.

And if you want more than just the 25 fic recs I've mentioned here, then please check out my Pedro Character Fav Fic Rec List where all the stories I've read/want to read and come across are featured. My TBR is through the roof, let me tell you, but it's a great problem to have!

And if your story isn't on my fic rec list, it's more than likely because I haven't found your work yet, so please yell at me to check it out! I'd absolutely love to!

Keep on writing, writers. You're all amazing!

So, without further ado, please find my top 25 Pedro Character Fics that I've really enjoyed reading this year! 🖤

☝️In no particular order, and includes a summary from the writer, where provided. Some series may still be ongoing. Please check the specific triggers/warnings on each story individually as some may not be suitable to your tastes:

• I Am Touchin', I Am Grabbin', Everything I Can't Be Havin' - @chronically-ghosted Dieter Bravo "A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Thing is, you haven’t seen each other in over a decade and neither of you quite remember the other one looking like that. But what’s one night gonna do? Well, as it turns out – as Dieter spirals at a breaking point in his career and you’re so lost in life you can’t see up from down – a whole fucking lot."

• Rock Bottom Series - @ghostofaboy Frankie Morales "Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of."

• Palomino Series - @fuckyeahdindjarin Agent Whiskey "Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you’d booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need."

• Stepwise @the-scandalorian Din Djarin "Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this."

• It Pours From Your Eyes - @the-blind-assassin-12 Joel Miller "Some things don't need to be said. Until they do."

• Transplant Series - @marisferasiop Joel Miller & Ezra "You are a resident and the only trained doctor in Jackson. You're bubbly and sweet, outgoing and friendly, and also in an unlabeled "situationship" with the town scrooge, Joel Miller. He won't say you're together, but he'll scare anyone else off. When Tommy drags back a half-dead man and girl from a patrol, you dutifully patch them up and help them settle into their new slotted house - across Rancher Street from yours and Joel's houses. Ellie and Cee get on like a bonfire, and when Joel sees how often you talk to your newest patient, his insecurities make him draw up and away from you. As you slowly give up on him and start something with Ezra, Joel's pining turns to frustration. Tommy convinces him to see if you'd be interested in being a throuple. Surprisingly, you and Ezra are both open to the idea. But can Joel's insecurities and possessiveness withstand such an arrangement? Or will the blow of another loss be what finally breaks him?"

• I'll Know It When I See It Series - @bageldaddy Joel Miller "It's the golden age of porn. Sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name Texas."

• Compulsion Series - @iamskyereads Ezra "Beatrice is a Drifter, a member of that oft-maligned, enigmatic subsection of workers on Baylor Corporation’s long haul expeditions. Ezra is a man with flowery language and a dark past, but he plays guardian to a strong willed, soft spoken teenager. In a madcap scheme to steal precious gems from the corporation’s mining operations, Ezra and his ward, Cee, form a reluctant alliance with this lone Drifter."

• Left In Lincoln Series - @toxicanonymity Joel Miller "After you were orphaned by the Outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection."

• Summer Schooled Series - @boliv-jenta Dave York & Joel Miller "Needing some cash before college, you start babysitting for Mr Miller and Mr York. When you decide to spend the summer teasing them. They decide you need to be taught some lessons."

• I Urge You, Bite Me - @netherfeildren Joel Miller "Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that. Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too."

• Sex Worker Frankie Series - @prolix-yuy Frankie Morales "Francisco “Catfish” Morales, a former sex worker at Pope’s escort service, takes on a final client and is met with something unexpected."

• Said The Spider To The Fly - @blueeyesatnight The Thief No summary provided by author, and I won't spoil it, however this is an awesome little fic which I urge you to check out if you haven't already!

• Catalyst Series - @ezrasbirdie Frankie Morales & Joel Miller "You've been nursing a crush on one of your closest friends, Frankie Morales, for a year now. At his 40th birthday party, you finally meet his new friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, who Frankie hasn't been able to stop talking about. You hit it off a little too well."

• Just A Piece - @palioom - Dave York "Dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. But when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity."

• This Charming Man - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Frankie Morales "Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her."

• Lemon Cakes & Lust - @thetriumphantpanda Oberyn Martell "Just a lowly kitchen girl, that’s all you were. A life of struggle behind you, masked by the facade of the palace. A tray of lemon cakes holds your fate with Prince Oberyn and you are only too happy to oblige his wanting of you."

• Headshots Series - @secretelephanttattoo Marcus Pike "You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots."

• Starving Season Series - @wannab-urs Dave York "You and Dave York are two people with nothing left in this world. You find yourselves starving for each other, trying to fill whatever void you each have in yourselves."

• Akrasia - @sp00kymulderr Ezra "Ezra quarantine smut that focuses much less on the lockdown and much more on the smut."

• Sequins - @trulybetty Joel Miller "On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you."

• Kill Shot Series - @magpiepills Ezra "A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm?"

• Send In The Clown - @covetyou Dieter Bravo "You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown."

• Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin Dave York "Work conferences were supposed to be boring. A meeting with a mysterious man sets your life on a very different trajectory."

• Rumour Has It Series - @senorabond Marcus Pike & Javier Pena "You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left."

Thank you so much to all the writers for writing such amazing stories this year!

⭐️And as a bonus, I've picked a fic from my own writing that I feel is my absolute favourite piece that I've written this year:

The Pit - Ezra - "Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for."

🖤

PEDRO CHARACTER FAV FIC REC MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #javier pena #frankie morales #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #agent whiskey #marcus pike #dave york #comandante veracruz #oberyn martell #din djarin #jett's fic recs #jett's top 25 fic recs of 2023

[aibloomie]

SWEET + RANDOM RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

ft :: xiao, diluc, yoimiya x gn!reader

wrote these like a year ago and I barely found them </3 also omg yoimiya I love her so much I need her to be my girlfriend

XIAO

━ he finds it cute when you're fascinated by random things. like the times where you're walking alongside him and find yourself distracted by a harmless insect you have never seen before. with a scoff, he'll step towards you, "that could be dangerous you know?" but once you have your back turned, his eyes will soften with adoration over the way you find beauty in everything. you're the reason he has began to appreciate the little things in his excruciating long life. plus, there's absolutely no way he'd let you touch anything if he knew it was dangerous in the first place.

━ adepti don't require any sleep, but if he isn't needed anywhere, xiao will lay beside you until you have fallen asleep. depending on how far you are in the relationship and the boundaries you have established, he might even hold you and soothe you to sleep. he doesn't want his lover to come home to an empty bed, much less have to wonder why they're all alone. and on the frequent nights when he can't be there, he'll check in on you every once in a while throughout the night, before vanishing once more to attend to his duties.

━ sometimes he comes back from his travels with gifts for you, he usually brings them when you're asleep so he can simply put them on a counter and spare himself from the embarrassment of ACTUALLY facing you and giving them to you directly. sometimes it's a pretty flower or sort of plant that reminded him of your beauty. other times it's a crystal or fruit that you recently mentioned.

DILUC

━ you could ask diluc to draw a straight line or to bring you a glass filled to the brink and he'd have no problem doing the task, his hands are steady. perhaps that's the main reason why you always feel so at ease when he gently holds your hips. diluc would feel prideful over how quickly you relax and feel safe with his touch.

━ it could be due to having a pyro vision, but his hands are always warm. do you have goosebumps from the sheer cold or maybe a chilly breeze that grazed your skin? you can always come to him, the feeling of his hands flush against your body will have you warming up in no time. you wouldn't even need gloves during the winter time, you can rely on him instead.

━ he doesn't mind if you accompany him to places he needs to go. in fact, he'll find himself smiling a little whenever he's working and lifts his gaze up, only to see you sitting on a bar stool near him. whenever there aren't any customers needing anything, he'll turn all his attention over to you. whenever he has to deal with the frustration of kaeya so smugly entering the tavern, he can just glance over at you and feel all of his anger subsiding.

YOIMIYA

— it's highly probable that she's the one who confessed to you! she's upfront about her feelings and doesn't like secrecy or the idea of being held back by being unable to communicate. her boldness overpowers everything even if she's really nervous, so if you're shy or struggle with speaking then don't worry! she'll be your voice

— she can literally talk about you for hours whenever your name is brought up. even if you are someone who wasn't initially well known, you'll gain a lot of popularity since yoimiya speaks highly of you and will declare her feelings for you to everyone she knows

— many of the kids in inazuma look up to her, so since you guys are together so often they'll begin seeing you as parental figures.

— it'll take a while for her to tell her dad that she's in a relationship with you since she wants to make sure he'll actually be able to hear, even if it means she has to yell a lot. however, she's so enthusiastic! she adores her dad and wants him to know <3

"hey dad! this is my—" she waved her arms around before cupping her hands together and putting them on the sides of her mouth to make her voice louder. "dad! dad!...dad! ugh...it's no use, maybe we can tell him another time yeah?"

— you'll be able to tell she has a lot on her mind whenever she's silent or when she gazes off into the sky. yoimiya will definitely make a firework that's exclusive to the two of you! if you're ever away on a journey then she'll light one up and smile upon reminiscing memories she cherishes with you.

#genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #diluc fluff #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #yoimiya x reader #yoimiya headcanons

[captain-lovelace]

I think the thing that really makes it so frustrating that people insist that you can write good horror without liking or reading or watching horror is that it comes from a refusal to acknowledge that horror as a genre requires skill specific to it. It's this assumption that because they've felt fear they understand it, and can therefore inflict it on their audience using whatever skills they already have. There's just one issue: not a single person on this planet has never been afraid, so it's a really easy emotion to get wrong in fiction. It's extremely easy for a portrayal of fear to come off as, for example, cheesy, or unintentionally funny, or disingenuous, or for it to just be too personal to be scary to other people. Studying how fear is written and portrayed, both effectively and ineffectively, makes you better at doing those things yourself. In order to write better horror, you have to treat horror as a genre worthy of attention and study. And I, personally, would argue that means that you have to interact with it.

One of the biggest and most important pieces of advice that I got as a writer was to read. It's hard to be a good author who doesn't read, and it's even harder to be a good genre author who doesn't interact at all with the genre that you're writing in, because you have massive gaps in your knowledge that you're not even aware of. You might not even be able to properly critique your work! You have nothing to draw from, nothing to be inspired from except things that were not made for the purpose of inciting fear-- you're fitting a square peg in a round hole and hoping it works.

The people who say no, you can write horror without having read horror, are the same people who would never say the same thing about whatever genre they like the most. On some level they're aware of how much it sucks to have someone with no experience in a genre come in with 100% conviction that they are actually the genre's savior, before coming up with something stale, bland, and full of half-baked inspirations from whatever bits and pieces of genre media they picked up through cultural osmosis, all of which they're convinced are so original because they have no idea they're drawing on any sort of larger tradition. But, because it's horror, this for some reason does not cross their minds.

The argument seems to be that you don't have to read horror to write horror. You don't have to like horror to write horror. You don't have to care about horror to write horror. It's a genre that requires zero effort, zero knowledge, zero skill you can't get elsewhere. It has no value-- but you, the person who doesn't know anything about it, you can give it value.

They don't seem to realize just how insulting that is to hear.

(Final note: queer horror and horror by POC both have rich histories, as does horror that isn't USAmerican or Western European in origin. It's a genre that is popular almost worldwide and has a lot of really excellent offerings from everywhere. Also, in addition to horror movies and novels I really recommend checking out horror short stories/anthologies, which can really show where the genre shines. Don't shy away from older horror, as well! Some of my favorite horror stories are from the 19th century.

If you love the idea of horror but have never really found anything that clicked, I guarantee that there is something out there that you will probably like, and if you want to write horror seeing the sheer breadth of what's out there will help you write better horror-- if at least to show you what you would like to see more of, or what might be missing.)

#horror #writing #horror is a lot like romance in that people who don't know what writing a good HORROR STORY or ROMANCE looks like come in convinced they #know how. and they don't even think #'hey maybe writing A ROMANCE is different from (e.g.) including a romantic subplot. hey maybe writing A HORROR STORY is different from #including horror elements in a story that is ultimately Not That.' #they're treated as Trash Genres. 0 effort all reward. #also 'i don't connect to anything that's out there right now' is not an excuse for IGNORANCE of what's out there right now

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 17/34 - wires and tubes

[read on AO3]

Oops. Do you know how many times I've almost accidentally posted a chapter? It finally happened. Well, here you go 😂

The call comes in the midst of a case that already has Mulder torn up and wild with determination. He never did do well with missing persons cases, especially where little girls were involved. It's even worse now that they actually kind of, sort of, might have a baby on the way, and she worries he won't be able to handle it.

She doesn't want him to lose himself in this. She needs him now more than ever, and it scares her when he gets this way. She only hopes Skinner can talk some sense into him.

But she's the one to answer the phone. She's the one who has to tell him the news. She's the one who has to break his heart in its already fragile state, praying he'll come out on the other side of it okay.

So she opens the door to Skinner's office, and meets her partner's eyes from across the room.

“What?” he asks, frustration simmering below the surface. Evidently his talk with the Assistant Director isn't going well, but that hardly matters now.

She shakes her head, wishing he would just come with her so they could talk in private. But he and Skinner are adamant that they need to finish this discussion, completely unaware of the tragic event that has occurred. 

“Mulder…” she says, sorrow dripping from her voice. “It's your mother.”

-.-.-

He's out of the office in a flash before she can even explain what happened. It’s all she can do to keep up with him as he rushes toward the garage, his fear and anger wafting off him in waves.

“Where are you going?” she calls after him.

“My mother's house,” he answers.

She chokes back a sob, willing herself to hold things together for the both of them. To keep a level head. “She's not there, Mulder,” she speaks, her words halting him in his tracks. 

He whirls on her, crossing the distance and stopping a foot in front of her, seething silently with a wild, frantic look in his eye that she never likes seeing.

“Where is she?” he grits out, his voice low.

She tries to grab for one of his hands, but he pulls back, rejecting the proffered comfort.

“The hospital,” she answers, her brows slanted in silent apology. “A neighbor called, concerned about the smell of gas. The paramedics found her. Mulder, your mother overdosed on sleeping pills. She tried to suffocate herself.” His face falls, but he quickly recovers, replacing the dejected expression with one of adamant denial. 

That's another look Scully doesn't like to see. 

“She's alive, but in a coma,” she explains, hoping to put a stop to Mulder’s spiraling before it starts, but it's too late.

“She tried to call me,” he says, starting to pace. “She left a message wanting to talk, but I didn't– I didn’t call her—”

He stops, crouching low to the ground and practically pulling his hair out of his head, fighting back red hot tears in his eyes.

“She wouldn't do this,” he says angrily, shaking his head, and if being loud meant being confident, then she might be convinced. “Th– they got to her! They tried to kill her!”

“No, Mulder.”

“Yes!” he yells, drawing suspicious glances from other agents in the hallway. “She must have had information about the case,” he continues, standing back to his full height and resuming his pacing. “It's all connected, just like I thought. Samantha—”

“Mulder, STOP!” Scully yells, gripping his bicep with her hand and holding him in place by sheer force of will. She slows her breathing, lowering her voice. “She may not ever wake up, but right now your mother is alive and in the hospital,” she says, appealing to his rational mind. “Before you go chasing after shadows, at least go see her.”

She lets her plea hang in the silence of the hallway. It seems their display has effectively scared off everyone within hearing distance, and she counts herself lucky that security hasn't come to escort them out of the building.

She can see him fighting back against his own reason, determinedly keeping his face screwed up in anger so as not to lose hold of the fury that fuels him. But her prolonged stare causes it to melt away, and his face crumples in defeat just before he collapses in her arms.

Sobs shake him, and it takes all her strength to keep him standing. His face buries into the crook of her shoulder, and she wraps her arms around his back, rubbing soft circles between his shoulder blades.

She hears Skinner pop his head out of his doorway, and she meets his eyes, beyond caring about the physical display in their place of work. The man merely nods in understanding, giving his stamp of approval for whatever needs to be done.

-.-.-

The hospital is eerily quiet, the sterile white walls echoing with every minute sound.

“Teena Mulder, please,” Scully says to the woman at the desk.

Mulder follows behind her looking lost.

They're shown to a hospital room where his mother lies surrounded by wires and tubes, her heartbeat beeping out slowly but steadily over the monitor.

Mulder goes to her side, grabbing her hand in his.

She hates to see him in agony like this. He falls to his knees beside her bed, murmuring incomprehensible apologies and pleadings between bouts of tears. He clings to her cold, frail hand like a lifeline, and though most times his relationship with his mother seems fraught, it's times like this—she knows—when he's at risk of losing what little he has, that she remembers that he loves his mother, just as any little boy might.

A doctor comes by and tells them what happened. The implications are clear, to someone with a medical background. Today was almost the day Mulder became an orphan. Today he almost became the last Mulder standing.

Eventually he's able to calm down a little, allowing himself to be pushed into a chair by her bedside.

“She might never know, Scully,” he says dejectedly. “She has no idea that she might be a grandmother soon. That she has a daughter-in-law.”

A daughter, for a woman who lost hers so long ago.

The fact that their marriage isn't real doesn't even cross their minds. In this moment, they are husband and wife, and right now this is one of those “for worse” moments they mentioned in their vows. She’s going to uphold that promise come hell or high water.

“You can tell her now,” Scully says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She might not hear you, but it's still good to talk to her.”

“She always wanted me to get married,” he says. “She said I needed to move on, to have my own family. Stop thinking about the one I lost. I hated her for that. I couldn't understand how she could give up on our family. How she’d think I could replace it, like a worn out pair of sneakers.”

“Mulder…”

“I understand now, Scully. That was never what she was telling me to do. I think– I think she just wanted me to be happy.”

She wipes the wetness from his cheek with her thumb, holding her hand there and cupping his jaw. He looks up at her, eyes gleaming in adoration. Then he stands, leaning over his mother and holding her hand in his. 

“Mom, I am happy,” he says. “I'm so happy. I just want you to be here to see it. To meet Scully again and our child, someday when we have one. Please…”

He bows his head, another wave of fresh tears filling his eyes.

“I still don't understand,” he says. “why she would do this…”

“I looked at her chart earlier,” Scully says. “Your mother is suffering from a disease known as Paget's Carcinoma. It's a horribly painful and disfiguring disease, Mulder. She didn't want to live.”

“But she has to!” he says, insistent. “She has to, at least for a little longer… I want to talk to her.”

“I know you do,” she says. “But there's nothing we can do until she wakes. 

“She was going to tell me something. What did she want to tell me, Scully?” he looks to her, his eyes pleading. She wishes she knew, so she could take away his burden. But she doesn't, so she just holds him as he sobs into her shoulder, and comforts him.

-.-.-

She's roused from her uncomfortable sleep in the hospital chair by none other than Walter Skinner. Mulder is fast asleep still in his own chair, his face pressed against the scratchy blankets of his mother's hospital bed.

“The case is heating up,” Skinner says, whispering so as not to wake Mulder. “The LaPierres are asking for him. I know it's probably not a good time, but—”

“No, it’s fine,” she says, surprising even herself by agreeing with him. “He needs to get away. From what I'm told, she's stable but not likely to wake anytime soon. The drugs are still making their way out of her system. Can you book us both a ticket?”

“Of course. I'll be coming as well, the Bureau needs this one wrapped up,” Skinner says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Should I get you one room or two at the motel?”

At first, Scully isn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “...Sir?” she asks. “You know we're not…”

“I know,” he says. “I just wasn't sure if you'd want to… keep an eye on him.”

It’s nice of him to ask, she supposes. The answer is yes, she would like to keep an eye on him, actually. But even this isn’t enough for her to forsake the appearances they’ve worked so hard to keep up these last few months.

“Two is fine,” she says with finality.

Skinner nods, and disappears the way he came.

-.-.-

She feels sick, standing in a field littered with tiny graves.

What makes her even more sick is seeing how desperately Mulder hopes to find his sister in each one they dig up. It's written plainly on his face, and she sees him sink deeper into himself with each one that doesn't match her description.

He just wants this to be over. He wants to move on, and she can't blame him. 

But after all this time, she really does wish there could be a happier ending. The one he'd hoped for for so long, where he rides off into the sunset with his sister in tow. Somewhere along the way, she'd begun to hope for that too.

And somewhere along the way, he'd stopped.

She tries to get him to come back to Washington with her and Skinner, but her efforts are in vain. He stays, swindled by some self-proclaimed police psychic who claims he can help find Amber Lynn LaPierre, who also was never identified amongst the other victims.

She leaves him, promising to check in on his mother and let him know how she's doing. But of course, her worry for him won't let sleeping dogs lie.

She pokes around, digging into his regression hypnosis recordings. She even visits Mrs. Mulder's home, looking for what? She isn't sure.

But she finds it.

Burnt documents putting an end to the search for Samantha in 1973. 

And the initials C.G.B.S.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #my fanfiction #ooom #msr adoption fic #fox mulder #dana scully #mulder and scully #adoption #if this is formatted badly it's because i'm on my phone at work because i didn’t mean to post this 💀 #but now i'm committing #sein und zeit #teena mulder

[wwereaderinserts]

can i request just about anything involving the reader being extremely jealous over dean and any woman, maybe Renee, who he has had to spend a lot of time with lately? doesn’t matter if smut or not, but a lot of angst pls!!!!!!!!

Title: Some Reassurance Pairing: Dean Ambrose x Reader Word Count: 1,140

“Don’t tell me there’s nothing there between you two. Spare me the bullshit once more, please.”

You interrupt Dean mid-sentence once more, your gaze unwavering and your arms crossed firmly over your chest. Your patience is beginning to wear thin, and you’re sure you’ll combust on the spot if you have to listen to another one of Dean’s bullshit excuses, or him simply waving things off while he spoon feeds you the same rinsed and repeated lines of there’s no need to be jealous and you have nothing to worry about, it’s just work any time you’ve brought up the one specific, glaringly obvious problem to him.

Renee.

Dean swears up and down that she’s just a friend, that they’re just coworkers, that it doesn’t go beyond that. But if that’s the case, why does it feel like they see each other more than you both see each other? Why is there so much fan speculation online about their relationship when it’s more than common knowledge that you and Dean have been together long term? Why is it bothering you this much?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dean mutters under his breath, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration before he talks over you, “Babe, there isn’t anything there! Renee’s a friend, we work together! How many times do I need to tell you this before you accept it?!” Dean raises his voice slightly, his irritation now becoming more and more evident the longer the confrontation draws out, but you don’t back down. You continue to stand your ground, gaze still equally as steely as it was mere seconds ago, arms still crossed with your fingertips now gripping your biceps, partly in anger, but mainly in a feeble attempt to stop your hands from trembling with each passing second.

You take a step towards him, one hand flying outwards to jab a wavering finger at him while the other drops down to your side, fist clenched and shaking whilst you will away the angry tears that threaten to spill over your lower lash line.

“Then why the fuck does it feel like you don’t even want to spend time with me, or even have time for me anymore?! You’re always with Renee!”

You scream at him, and when Dean is preparing to interject, you stop him dead in his tracks before he can so much as get a word in.

“No, no. I’m not fucking finished yet. You leave me hanging at the end of the phone for hours on end, just waiting on a text or call back whenever I’m not physically here visiting you! You have no fucking idea how much shit hurts when pictures of you two getting a little too cosy when you’re together end up seeing the light of day. And I see the way you both look in those pictures, Dean. I’m not blind, I can fucking see it.”

Your words hold ample amounts of venom in them, and despite your best efforts, the tears you were fighting back have finally spilled over to open up the floodgate which you know won’t be closing for the foreseeable. Sheer rage has now morphed into heartbreak, and you bare all to your partner.

“It feels like I’m losing you! It’s what I’ve been trying to get through to you, but you don’t want to listen to it! I don’t want to have to feel like I’m constantly competing, like I’m the other person! For fuck’s sake, I just want some reassurance, it shouldn’t be so much to ask for!”

You sob in front of Dean, overwhelmed above all else now that you’ve thrown everything you wanted to get off your chest to him out into the open. You don’t see it, but Dean’s gaze softens entirely at the sight before him, like every single word is resonating with him all at once.

He’s finally seeing just how much this has hurt you, and he resents himself for it.

Dean closes what little distance remains between you both, and to test the waters, he gingerly places a hand on your forearm to gain your attention. Sniffling, you glance up at him while you rub at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt, clearing your vision enough to be met with concerned, bright blue eyes staring right back at you.

“It’s my turn to talk, alright?” he tells you, calmly, before he continues, “There’s nothing going on with me and Renee, okay? Never has been, never will be. It ain’t like that between us. She’s a friend of mine. I’m with you, and she has a partner of her own. And yeah, people are gonna think what they wanna think when they see us out in public together, but I love you. Ain’t about to change anytime soon.”

Dean takes a brief pause before he continues, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head while he’s mulling his words over before he throws them at you.

“I see how much it hurt you now, and I fuckin’ hate myself for not listening to you in the first place. I know I should have, and I’m sorry for brushing you off like I have been. But you also see things from my side, right? It feels like you don’t trust me with how you’re acting. I would never fuck you over like that. Never.”

“I know, I…I-I just-” you stammer slightly before you huff out a shaky breath, “I do trust you. I just…miss you more than anything. Miss getting to see you, miss spending time with you, so seeing someone else get to do all that with you, feeling like I’m being ousted out? It hurts.”

Dean nods in understanding, and both of his hands find their way to clasp yours, giving them a firm squeeze. You purse your lips into a fine line as you look at him, awaiting his next response.

“I’d never oust you out, babe. You’re stuck with me, as long as you’ll have me.”

Dean replies, trying to make things lighter in an attempt to shift your mood slightly. Despite his lack of optimism, he still earns a flicker of a smile from you, and his expression mirrors yours.

“And…if you haven’t already noticed, you don’t need to miss me. I’m right here. So…” Dean trails off, gradually leaning in to come face to face with you, “I’m all yours for the rest of the evening. I’m turning my phone off, you have my undivided attention. We’re doing whatever you want to do. Sound good?”

He barely whispers, and he glances down at your lips, asking permission before his eyes meet yours once more. Slowly, you tilt your head sideways before your lips brush together, the promise of a tender kiss imminent.

“I want nothing more than that, Dean.”

#deanxreader #dean ambrose x reader #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe oneshot #dean ambrose imagine

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

I don’t think the harassment is acceptable. I think people are really out of pocket doing that, but I do think him establishing what is and isn’t part of his job is fine. And maybe did need to be said, because clearly people didn’t know.

As for using Buddie as promo… idk. The marketing team is gonna do whatever ABC feels will garner the most viewers, and right now it’s Buck being bi and the long held desire to see him and Eddie become canon. They’re gonna milk it however they can, which falls back on Tim, thus him feelings like he needed to explain himself, presumably.

I do agree it could be toned down though, because Buck is now canonically dating someone else, and I don’t recall them teasing Buddie for real when he was with women. So doing it now the way they are is purely because they’re banking on Buddie fans, while also currently not committing.

Plus, everything Buddie related from before has to now be assumed not canon, so it’s putting everyone in a messy spot. Because we have canon, fanon, show runner confirmed but not on screen, and canon jokes that are now floating in the in between because no one knows if the they’ll be acknowledged in canon or get scrapped.

I think people should just calm down and wait to see what the season brings, anyway. Once it’s over and we get an idea of where all the characters are at, then start asking bigger questions or letting out the more angry frustrations.

Hi! Sorry for the late reply. The sheer amount of work that goes into television hasn't often been well realized in fan spaces. The writing, how it translates to screen, the process of acting, all the work by the crew, the pressures from moneymen, managing the expectations of the audience, the long hours and repetition of scenes. How multiple people working on a creative project means multiple interpretations— all of which bleed through. The showrunner has every right to protect himself and the people who work for him. I was mainly trying to draw on my own experiences in how these harassment campaigns happen, how they continue, and how they can be mitigated.

US TV production has a long and rocky history when it comes to queer narratives. That doesn't really end now that there are canonically queer characters on screen and this fallout is part of the response to that tension.

For example, if I engage in the whole Buddie vs. Bucktommy thing (sorry), I'd say both perspectives have a point they don't realize they're making about queerness in television storytelling.

The thesis I feel like Buddie fans are making is there are two queer coded main characters who love each other, who have seasons of build up in their individual characters and in their relationship. Why can't they be together? Because they're two male main characters on network television? Be bold, be brave. Wouldn't it be amazing if they did commit to that story? Wouldn't it be game changing? Sexuality and friendship and love is not set in stone, it's okay to be flexible. M/F relationships are allowed that space to develop within a story and you know if one of them were a woman they probably would be together already.

The thesis I feel like BuckTommy fans are making is that Buddie was never going to happen, realistically, and it's amazing enough that they committed to Buck being canonically bisexual. Why do you want to rock the boat? Don't you see that if you can't embrace this development it could be snatched away at any moment. The show is its own thing within its own context and not the blinkered interpretation you have of two characters. This queerness is canon.

Those two thesis's (thesi?) are rubbing up against each other and building straw men of the other to attack and tear down. A showrunner wading in was only ever going to combust that tension further and that's what happened. What keeps happening.

#911 #911 show #buddie #bucktommy #queerness in television #queerness in media #I'll always have a problem with the idea that queer characters and narrative development is a treat i get for being a good dog #but i understand the fear of the fickleness within the entertainment industry #and obviously people take their frustrations to the extreme and harm others #though i don't think that's the majority of people in a fandom space #it can just occasionally feel like it

[eyeless-smiles]

“You look angry. How about you take all that energy and put it to good use?”

@murderdeals

Cain's first instinct would be to fling back a casual retort. That 'looking angry' is simply his face, or something along those lines. He bites it back. Knows that Corinthian somehow can't stop teasing him, ever hovering near to flash those three grins and drawl nonsense. Inhaling a deep breath, he decides to entertain the nightmare. If namely because, at the moment, he's got nothing better to do. Good use... the sheer irony of such coming from this abomination earns it a dry chuckle. Between that and taking a sip from his beer, he shoots Corinthian an expectant side glance. " Like what? "

The Nightmare leans across the couch with a wicked smile, tipping his own beer bottle towards the Demon.

"Don't play coy. I've been inside that head."

There is an air about him that the Nightmare can not get enough of. Drawing the dark mirror in like a moth to a flame. A human soul, tortured and warped by a curse into something ugly.

All of those pent up human emotions bristling just below the surface of a stoic expression. Simmering like a ticking time bomb.

"But since you're not a fan of ambiguity-"

The Corinthian retracts his beer to set it down on the coffee table. His lips pursed sweetly as he makes his proposal abundantly clear.

"I want a taste of all that aggression. As you've probably noticed, I'm a very tactile creature. Sex is simply... a means to experience what humans feel. And since you're also not a fan of flirtation, I'm just gonna spell it out for you."

The gap between them shrinks as the monster leers closer.

"Let all of that delicious frustration out, and fuck me."

#((he spellin it out as clear as day #((sex please #ic #murderdeals #naughty time makes emotions strong and monster brain goes brrrr

[lokisgoodgirl]

I want a fluff bomb where female reader just worships Loki and positively smothers him in love and affection. No strings attached, no ulterior motive from the reader. Just lots of hugs, kisses and fawning over the sweetest boy! 😘

Extra brownie points for including Loki's repsonse!

Fluff-Drabble Marathon A link to my FLUFF Library is here Warnings: Bit of implied smut, nothing major. Loki being insecure. (w/c 850) A link to my regular Masterlist is here [18+]

Loki's Special Night

You watched as Loki made a third unsuccessful attempt at tying a windsor knot facing the mirror, rolling his eyes in frustration as he let out a quiet sigh. With a flex of his fingers, the green silk wound around itself, forming perfectly to sit against his thick cotton shirt. You knew he was nervous. The gala dinner this evening was officially announcing him as a member of the Avengers, and beneath the fairly calm exterior; you could feel him simmering with anxiety. “Loki?” you said calmly, your stomach flipping as your beautiful man he spun on his heels to face you with his hands spread.

“How do I look?” he postured confidently, the tentative look in his eyes betraying the fact he was searching for more than surface-level approval. You patted the mattress beside you, running your hand over the smooth duvet as he complied warily.

“I know tonight is a big deal for you Lokes” you murmured, needlessly straightening his tie “I just want you to know how wonderful you are. You are wonderful, you know.” You saw his mouth twitch in disagreement, words forming on his lips that he stopped himself saying. You sighed, running your hands through his hair from his temples and clasping them behind his head. “Loki Laufeyson, what am I going to do with you…” you muttered, as his eyes glinted mischievously. “I can think of a few things darling, but it will have to wait until after dinner."

You leant forward and kissed his forehead, running your clasped hands down behind his neck. “You” you placed a kiss on his left cheek, before moving to the right, “are”...and to his nose “the most beautiful”...then his chin “unique”...his left jaw “passionate”... and his right, “clever”...his neck “being”...and his lips, “I have ever met in my life.” He looked at you with soft eyes, struggling to find the words to articulate what he wanted to say. Somehow, he found the wrong ones. “Darling, you haven’t lived for very long – no one can blame you for your lack of experience.” You laughed in spite of yourself, raising your eyebrows at the sheer wilfulness of the infuriatingly lovely god beside you. “I don’t need to have lived five thousand years to know that I love you. And I don’t need to have lived five thousand years to know why.” He squirmed, his pale cheeks drawing a hint of pink as he smoothed the creases in his trousers, “I wouldn’t be averse to you elaborating, I suppose. Considering this is my special night.” You drew your knees up on the bed, shuffling behind him and pulling his shoulders back towards your chest. Loki gazed at you behind him in the floor length mirror as he straightened on the bed, the deep green of your dress matching his silk tie perfectly. You began to dig your fingers into his shoulders, eliciting a deep moan from his throat as he leant into your touch. “Well first of all, you’re handsome...which is an understatement. God-like, is more accurate.” you leant forward, kissing his neck and biting his earlobe gently, “Every morning when you wake up beside me I just want to absolutely devastate you endlessly with my affections…” you whispered seductively as he shivered beneath you.

“You usually do, my love.” he mumbled, his lowered gaze flickering to you in the mirror. “Additionally” you declared, not letting him derail your arguments, “you have become an invaluable member of the team. There is no foe you have not been able to vanquish. There is no mission plan you cannot improve. There is no crossword clue of Steve’s you cannot solve. Much to his annoyance.” Your heart leapt as he chuckled beneath you, the sound like a warm bath on a cold day. You straightened, moving your hands back to massaging his broad shoulders.

“Although you try your best to disguise it sometimes, you have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. You never forget any warmth shown to you, you return every favour twofold, even when it’s given freely. You're so intelligent, brave, fearless..." you felt the passion rising in your voice as you defended him to himself. "Loki you’ve overcome so much and you still open yourself to love…” you paused, sinking against him and sliding your hands around his waist, pulling him close, “do you not think that’s amazing? Because I do.” Silence hung in the air as Loki stroked the clasped hands around his midriff. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the love of this mortal woman, but if he was half the figure she believed he was – then that would be enough. “Darling?” he whispered, as you raised your cheek from his back. You hung to the side, meeting his gaze from below his bicep as you peeked around his wide frame. “Yes, my love?” you replied, enjoying the amusement dancing in his eyes. He twisted gently and lay you down on the bed, his long limbs encasing your as he crawled up the silk of your dress. The god planted deep kisses on your exposed neckline, working up to your neck as you let out soft moans beneath him. “Yes my love?” you repeated, a smile tugging at your lips as his eyes met yours, his lips finding the skin above your heart. The amused glint in his eyes faded as his brow creased, the cloud of self-doubt threatening to re-appear as his mind raced ahead,

“I deserve to be here, do I not?” You sat up abruptly, your hands flying to either side of his jaw as you pulled him into a passionate kiss. Your lips pressed against his, seeking to show him through actions what words apparently could not. Loki flexed against you, hands winding in your hair as you pulled free from his embrace, a deep fire burning as you held his gaze. “You deserve everything, Loki Laufeyson.” you said firmly, jaw set in furious determination, “and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.” He panted, belief finally sparking in his eyes as the whole picture came together. The one he had been too afraid to voice until tonight, too afraid to imagine could be his reality. A reality with you beside him, come what may. “I love you, Y/N.” he murmured, as you reached out to straighten his wayward tie. “I love you too, Loki” you whispered, “now let’s go show them all how amazing you are.”

- Marathon Tags @lady-rose-moon @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @vbecker10 @holdmytesseract @nightshadelm @thedistractedagglomeration @sititran @loopsisloops @theaudacitytowrite @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @peaches1958 @lindsey-laufeyson @awkward-and-indecisive @itsybitchylittlewitchy @ozymdias @chantsdemarins @yelkmelk @mcufan72

#loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #hot loki #avenger!loki #avenger loki #loki avengers

[iveseenstrangerthings]

parked car confessions - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: another friends to lover imagine, this is similar to my mixed signals imagine that i wrote, and you can read that here! This is a steve x fem!reader using she/her pronouns. Steve misses the usual Friday night movie to go on a date, much to your despair... it’s a bit angsty and fluffy! 

warnings: sweating and mentions of food

word count: exactly 4k 

note: i posted this yesterday but it didn’t show up anywhere??? so i’m trying again, hopefully it works

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A snaffle at the popcorn box brings your attention away from the film and you turn towards Dustin who’s grabbing a huge handful of the popcorn out of the bag in your hands. “Woah, easy there.” You whisper, trying not to distract the others from the movie. He just twists his face up in retaliation and sticks a finger to his lips, shoving the entire handful of popcorn into his mouth and over-exaggerating his chews. Painstakingly, you hold in a laugh at his expressions and mannerisms, no matter how crappy you feel you rely on Dustin to make you laugh. It’s Friday night and as usual, you’re all huddled together watching a movie of Mike’s choice tonight as you’re all at the Wheeler’s. Honestly, you haven’t been paying attention as tonight Steve bailed, at the last minute, and you’ve felt uneasy ever since. When the others asked why, he wouldn’t divulge and that’s when you started to suspect he was meeting someone, maybe going on a date.

Simply put, you like him. You know the others know after you accidentally confessed to Robin after you’d had a few drinks, and you know she wouldn’t be able to hold off telling the others. In a way though, you don’t mind. Yours and Steve’s relationship was an odd one that everyone just couldn’t understand. There are obvious feelings, on your part, and sometimes on Steve’s, but then he would adamantly deny there was anything there. There have been nights you’ve cried out of sheer frustration at the fact that you feel you’re getting nowhere with him, and all you want to do is be with him.

So, here you’re sat, half watching the film, half worrying about where he is and what he’s getting up to. The inside of your cheek is toying in between your back teeth as you play over different scenarios in your mind. Annoyance rises within you, suddenly starting to feel slightly enraged that you’ve gone for so long being toyed about. Something deep within you makes you want to confront him and tell him how much he’s hurt you.  

Later, as the film seems to be drawing to a close, there’s a quick two knocks on the front door and then it swooshes open, a sudden draft entering the room. You whip your head around and see Steve turning to close the door, starting to kick his shoes off. Unimpressed, you turn back around and pretend like nothing’s happened.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” He says.

Max’s face screws up, “Late? You’ve missed the whole movie.”

Steve places himself down on the floor, just next to where you’re sat on the couch and Dustin gives him a pat on the shoulder, to which Steve turns around and they do some sort of quick hand gesture with each other. The rest of the guys mumble a quick hello, but their attention is mainly on the film. Your eyes shift back to the screen, and you can feel Steve’s gaze on you, only for a second. He finds it odd how you haven’t really acknowledged him, or even said hi. Everyone settles back down to finish the film and when the film finally finishes, the black background casts the room into a sudden darkness, only illuminated by the white credits rolling on. It doesn’t take two minutes before Robin is questioning Steve on his absence.

“So, you gonna share with us what better things you had to do than be here?” She turns in the armchair to face him, her legs lazily draped over the side. “And don’t say work.” Her eyebrow goes up as she looks at him, “Because I’ll know you’re lying.”

Steve shakes his head and looks back at Robin, smirking slightly, “I’ve just been busy, guys.”

Dustin is quick to retort, “Wearing a pretty snazzy jacket there though Steve… what could require such a fashionable, and impressive, outfit choice?”

Your eyes bore into the television, everyone knows fine well he’s been on a date. Steve lets out a long sigh, puffs his cheeks and shrugs, trying not to laugh at the questions being thrown his way. You glance over at Robin who’s looking back at you with a kind-hearted expression, and you just roll your eyes ever so slightly.

“Come on man, who’s been the lucky person to spend tonight in your presence?” Dustin places his hands on the back of his shoulders and slightly shakes him from side to side.

Steve brushes his hands off and holds his palms up, “Alright, alright.” Your stomach drops, even though you knew, it’s going to be different hearing him say it. “It was Katie, we used to have Math together. She came into the store the other day to rent a movie and we got talking and… figured I’d ask her out.” Wow. Your cheeks flush with warmth and if you were alone now, you’d probably shed a little tear and start to feel sorry for yourself. But tears don’t threaten you right now, sheer anger does. Part of you feels that Steve knows your feelings towards him and just doesn’t mention them, but maybe he is just oblivious. “You okay, (y/n)? You’re pretty quiet.”

You lower your gaze to where he’s sat in front of you and feel yourself softening towards him, his eyes are so kind and he really hasn’t got a bad bone in his body, so you feel guilty almost for feeling so angry with him. “Totally.” You reply, “Glad you had a good time.” You offer a smile to him, however you felt you did not want everyone suspecting you were pissed off. That wasn’t the reply Steve was expecting, however. Like a thick blanket, an awkward silence sits atop of everyone, almost feeling like it’s smothering. It becomes uncomfortable and Max soon realises, “I think we should probably get going…” she looks around at everyone else, urging with wide eyes for someone to agree.

You take the hint, “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.” Pushing the thin blanket from your legs, you stand up and stretch slightly, heading for the door with the others to put your shoes on.

“Thanks for having us!” Lucas calls back to Mike and Nancy who are still sat around the sofas with Robin, El and Steve. The group call out goodbyes and you all head out the door. The kids have their bikes, but you chose to walk tonight, you enjoy the walk as it’s a nice, scenic part of town. The others will find it odd that you didn’t stay, as you usually stay up late into the night with them once the kids have gone, but tonight you couldn’t find it in you to want to make pleasantries with Steve.

Steve sits with a bewildered look on his face after you leave, and he looks around at the others. “Am I missing something? What the hell was up with (y/n)?” Nancy and Robin share a glance and Steve catches onto it, sighing heavily. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Are you sworn to secrecy or some shit? You guys stuck in the sixth grade?”

“Hey, woah.” Robin starts, “Don’t be like that with us, Harrington.” The pair stare at each other a minute. Albeit they work together nearly all the time and spend time outside of work together, the pair very rarely have an argument. The tone in their voices has an edge to it which is very rare to appear in conversations. “Don’t you ever think for a second how you’re making her feel?”

“Making who feel?!”

“Don’t give us that shit, Steve.” Nancy quickly snaps back at him, getting up to start to tidy away the living room. Mike silently slipped away when he realised the conversation was starting to turn sour. Steve places his forehead in his palm and rubs back and forth, as if he’s getting a headache. “Did not expect my night to end like this.” He sighs.

Robin tuts “Oh boohoo.” She stands up, giving Nancy a hand collecting in random bits of popcorn from the carpet. She looks up at him, enjoying the fact her and Nancy are ripping into him a little. “Did you even have a good time with Katie?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve plays the night over in his head. It had been a pleasant time, they’d gone to the movies, he drove her home, nothing significant happened but he just didn’t feel anything for her. He does, however, feel something for you, which he’s been repressing for so long. He just never knew how to approach the situation. “Not particularly.” He shakes his head, starting to feel annoyed at the situation.

Robin sits back down on the sofa, finishing off some rogue bits of popcorn left in the boxes, and she shakes them to release the hardened corn from the sides. “Think you should just go talk to her, to be honest.”

“She’s gone home! It’s too late now.”

Robin shakes her head and tosses a piece of popcorn up and into her mouth, “No, she’s walking dumbass. Go find her, be the Knight in shining armour you so desire to be.”

Something stirs in Steve, a protective urge flares within him, the thought of you walking alone doesn’t sit well with him. He stands and makes his way towards the door, quickly slipping into his trainers. He looks back at Nancy and Robin, both staring back at him with a slightly smug look on their faces.  

The night is a lot colder than you anticipated and your jumper isn’t doing a particularly good job of keeping the cold from seeping in and settling a chill in your bones. You cross your arms across your chest as you become aware of your teeth starting to chatter, you just want to be home. You quicken your pace slightly to try and get home quicker, attempting to put tonight to the back of your mind, but you know that won’t happen. As you turn the corner, headlights illuminate the road in front of you and you can hear the sound of an engine rolling towards you, going too slow to pass you. Your eyes widen and you quicken your pace again, unaware of whose car it is and why they would be travelling so slowly behind you. Different thoughts start racing around your mind before you hear a quick acceleration and before you know it the car is beside you, but you keep your eyes fixed forward. “Hey, do you want a ride home?” Steve. Your pace relaxes now that you know it’s him, but you continue to walk, so he continues to roll steadily alongside you, his eyes darting from you to the road. “Come on, please don’t ignore me.”

“No, I don’t want a ride home.” You reply, an edge to your voice he hasn’t heard before.

The car continues beside you, and you look over to him leaning across so he can shout out the open passenger window to you. “(y/n), please get in so we can talk.”

Your brows furrow, oh so now he wants to talk. “I live around the corner; we won’t have much of a talk by the time you drop me home.”

“Then we can just sit on your drive for a bit.” You shake your head, steadily continuing with your walk. You hear an exasperated sigh float from the car, “I don’t wanna go home knowing we’re not on good terms. Please, come talk to me.” Finally, you stop. Steve silently thanks you and now just hopes you’re going to get in the car. You toy with the idea in your mind, he doesn’t want to go home knowing we’re not on good terms… oh fuck it. You reach over and open the passenger door, closing it with a bit more force than anticipated it makes Steve jump slightly.

“Sorry.” You mumble, knowing he’s precious about his car. “Let’s go then.” You gesture with your hand for him to start driving and he does, the car smoothly starting to roll away.

You ride in silence to your house, which only has the porch house illumined and the rest of your house sits in darkness. He knocks the engine off then turns to face you; your eyes had not moved from the road in front since you got in the car.

He clears his throat, trying to also clear the awkward tension in the car. “Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Ask and you shall receive. “Why didn’t you just come straight out tonight and say that you’d been on a date?” Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage, “People had to coax it out of you, and you went along with it. You just didn’t need to beat around the bush with saying where you’d been, it was weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yes! Weird. What was the reason you didn’t wanna admit to being on a date? Even though, it was pretty fucking obvious.”

He pauses for a few seconds, “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

You scoff, “Oh, how considerate. Thank you.” Your hands are becoming more expressive with the more annoyed you get.

He places a hand on the steering wheel and furrows his brows, “Well, yeah, I was trying to be considerate. I didn’t want you to get upset.” You shake your head and twist your face, but then your stomach drops, the only reason he wouldn’t want you to get upset is that he knows how you feel. You soften into the seat a little and let out a big breath, your teeth find the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek again and you begin to chew on it, ever so slightly. “I don’t know why, I guess I was bored and-”

“Please don’t just make up excuses, Steve.” You turn to face him as you cut him off, his face looks tired and stressed, “This is not how I pictured this, at all, but I really like you.” Your voice sounds tired and you pause a second to take in his facial expression which has softened. “I have for such a long time and I’m pretty sure the guys all know, Robin definitely does, but that’s beside the point. We’ve been friends for so long and if that’s all you see us as then that’s fine but, I just get frustrated sometimes.” You pause for a second, letting it sit between the two of you, but Steve says nothing, almost just wanting you to continue talking. He's given you his full attention the whole time, holding onto every word you’ve said. “It seems to me sometimes; you feel the same. But then, you deny it and go on dates with other people. There’s a part of me that always holds a little hope that maybe, for some reason, you’re just holding out at accepting how you really feel.”

Bingo. How are you so good at this?

“Am I wrong, Steve?” You look back at him now, almost in anticipation. He can’t seem to muster up the right thing to say, so just slowly shakes his head. A silence falls over the pair of you and he just lets it stay for a few minutes before speaking again.

“How come you’ve waited all this time to say something?” He asks.

Your eyes search his, “Well, when you deny liking me and then date other people it doesn’t exactly encourage me to share my feelings. I’m just sick of feeling like one day you like me and the next you’re uninterested. I wish you’d just be honest with me.” You pause a second, a thought suddenly making its way into your consciousness. “Wait, how long have you known?”

He thinks for a second, giving it some real consideration. “Um, like three weeks maybe. Robin slipped it into conversation at work.”

“Oh.”

“And I’ve wanted to talk to you about it but then I guess I got a bit annoyed; I don’t know. I asked Katie out to sort of test it and see if how I felt was real. And it was.”

“Hold on, you needed to date someone else, to test yourself?” You sit back against the door holding your hands closed in your lap.

“You’re missing my point! I went on the date, and I didn’t like it, I didn’t enjoy myself. I was thinking of you the whole time, God dammit (y/n). How do you just expect me to know how you feel if you don’t even communicate with me?! I can’t read your mind. I hate that Robin had to tell me how you felt. I wanted to hear it from you.” His hands point in your direction, to accentuate his argument. He has a point, you’d never spoken about it with Steve, you’ve been close to, but then froze and decided against it. The air in the car suddenly feels uncomfortably warm and you crack the door open a little, Steve’s face turning alarmed when he thinks you’re opening it to leave. When he sees you’re staying, he settles. Awkwardly, you look down at your fingers and tug at a tiny piece of hangnail. You’d never really considered how Steve might have felt, and you felt awful for it. Steve’s hand reaches over and gently takes your fingers away from pulling at your skin, he holds your hand there for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I never spoke to you about how I felt or anything, I just really didn’t know how to put it or whether I’d just get rejected then it would make everything awkward.” You shrug nonchalantly. It feels nice having his hand in yours and you give it a small squeeze.

“I felt like such a dick, coming in late to Mike’s then seeing you sitting there alone.” He shakes his head slightly, almost as if he’s in an argument with himself. “Well, you weren’t ‘alone’, but you know what I mean.” You scrunch your lips up and nod, letting him continue. “I don’t know why the hell I ever asked her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it Steve, it’s done now it’s happened. I’m just sorry for not talking to you about it.” Your thumbs are gliding over each other, it seems cliché, but you almost can’t believe you finally have his hand in yours.

“Well, now that it’s all out there and we’ve established that… how about we go to that little place you like? The one with the tables outside and the good pizza. Tomorrow?”

Your face screws up and you place the palm of your hand on your forehead, “Shit… I have a date tomorrow. I can’t.” He can tell by your face you’re obviously joking, he raises his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“Oh really? Who’s the lucky guy?” His tongue pokes out slightly as it curls up into his upper lip, eyebrows still raised.

You brush him off with a swish of your hand, “You won’t know him.”

“I bet he’s awfully handsome.” He says, in his best attempt at a posh accent which makes you laugh with him.

You still have his hand in yours and you slowly peel your hand away from his, “It’s getting late I should head in.” You state.

He nods understandingly and rubs his hands over his jeans, “Sure.” He looks towards the porch where the light is still on, wondering if your mom has been watching this whole time, she tended to be nosy.

You follow his gaze and are quick to pick up on what he’s thinking, “They’re out.” You simply state.

He doesn’t really acknowledge this but instead poses a follow up to his previous question, “So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Around 6?”

Your head bounces in a wave of nods enthusiastically, a smile painting your face. “Absolutely, that’d be great.” For months now, you’d found yourself daydreaming of him, of this. If your mind was unoccupied for a few moments, you found it automatically filling with ideas of you and him, doing the most mundane of things but somehow the thought brought you such warmth and comfort. Often, you pictured the two of you sharing a kiss. The thoughts bounce around in your mind as you sit across from him now, trailing your eyes from his, down to his lips, then back to his eyes. Your heart accelerates at a steady pace, but enough so that you can feel it quickening. Your throat seems to tighten, and your mouth goes dry with anticipation. Steve looks back at you, he enjoys looking at you and taking in your features. He appreciates your beauty and finds you utterly charming, even when you’re going off on him. He notices your eyes move down to his lips, where he carefully takes his bottom one in between his teeth for a fraction of a second, but enough so that you noticed it.

As soon as Steve did this, it’s as if someone lets a cage of butterflies in your stomach free and they erupt into a turmoil of busy wings and flutters. Your heart continues to pound in your chest at the realisation of what’s building.

“C’mere.” He whispers the word and cups the side of your neck with his hand, resting his thumb gently on your cheek as he pulls you in towards him. The car feels so silent as you allow yourself to gravitate towards him, both closing your eyes as your lips finally meet. You’re pleasantly surprised at how well your lips move at ease with his. He kisses you slowly, drawing them out before kissing you again, tenderly parting your lips by placing his thumb just below your bottom lip, firming his hold on you. Heat rises within you and your hand lays gingerly on his leg, your other hand holding his arm. You really don’t want to, but you pull away to catch your breath. His hand remains on your cheek as you slow your breathing down, not wanting him to see you got overly excited. He pulls you close again to give you a small peck on the lips before removing his hand and sitting back in his seat. Your cheeks feel incredibly flushed, and you know they’re a deep crimson, letting Steve see exactly how you felt about your kiss.

“Was that…” he starts, starting to put his keys back in the ignition, “was that your first kiss?” he asks with interest, he’s hoping it was, that way to him it’s more special.

Just as the crimson was starting to dissipate, it reappears. You know Steve has had multiple kisses, so you feel silly that you have only ever had one, that has only just occurred now. Or maybe he asked because the kiss was so bad, and he could tell you’re a rookie? Oh god…

“Oh, shit was it that bad!?” You ask, covering your mouth with your fingers suddenly feeling awkward.

His eyes widen and he shakes his hands, “No no no, no definitely not. Are you kidding me (y/n), talk about a tease.” His voice lowers, with a subtle tone of seduction, “Best kiss I’ve ever had.”

You roll your eyes and push his leg with your hand, “Shut up, Harrington.” You turn and open the door fully now and step out into the darkness of the evening, thankful that he probably won’t be able to see your flushing cheeks. “Tomorrow at 6, don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He turns the engine on now as you close his door, softly this time, and make your way down to your front door where you fish your keys from your bag. Quickly, you unlock your door and turn around to wave Steve off. Once he sees you in safely, he reverses off your drive and you close your door as you see his taillights trail off in the distance.

#masterlist #stranger things imagine #stranger things preferences #stranger things blurbs #stranger things imagines #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington comfort

[karl-raccoon-enjoyer]

sigma for the character ask game :D

First Impression- I thought the scene where he saved that one guy who was struggling from having massive gambling debts was so sweet 😭 Plus the whole DOA gave me that feeling feel where when you feel the feeling feel and you’ve felt it, you know there are feelings to be felt (basically the feeling when you start fixating on something). Also, pretty.

Impression Now- I still think they’re the sweetest guy ever. They just want to have a home and I love that. But sometimes I remember he’s still a terrorist who possibly saved that guy for publicity reasons so the casino could be more profitable in the long run?? But that also ties back to how much they love their home???? It’s crazy. Even though I feel like he’s one of the easier bsd characters to understand just because they spell most of their motivations out, there’s still so much he does that’s morally gray and complicated.

Favorite Moment- When he was fighting that one girl from the hunting dogs who I forget her name. That reminder of his sheer determination and strength and love and protectiveness over his home was MAJESTIC. Plus I feel like a lot of people forget they can be scary like that which is frustrating.

This panel specifically is everything.

Idea for a Story- What if Sigma succeeded in killing Teruko (looked up her name). He would be in such deep shit, even if he did legally control the Sky Casino. Since they’re already a terrorist, they might spiral further and further into greater illegal and violent activities in order to protect his home. We need more of his scary side so badly. And what if Fyodor took refuge in the casino some how and convinced Sigma he’s also their family? Like a damn parasite? Like a damn parasite that’s only corrupting them further? Sigma could be a villain so easily and we forget that sometimes.

Unpopular Opinion- I’ve seen a lot of theories on which author he’s based on. Personally, I think they’re literally just the letter because that aids to the themes of their alienation from the rest of humanity, but, if he is based on an author, I think it’s Homer. Specifically, their ability is The Odyssey. Not only was Odysseus’ main motivation getting back home, but the Ancient Greek concept of xenia is also very prevalent in that story. Xenia is basically a list of expectations between guests and hosts, and we know how Sigma treated their guests. Plus, Odysseus is smart and spends a lot of time telling the stories of his life and Sigma’s incredibly intelligent (also a semi-unpopular opinion, unfortunately) and their ability allows them to know the stories of others. PLUS plus The Iliad and The Odyssey were like just a collection of stories told by various Ancient Greek storytellers rather than one man, which may be why he is named something more broad. There’s more parallels I could draw but this is getting long.

Favorite Relationship- Siglai. Siglai Siglai Siglai. Their ideas of freedom contrast each other so well. Nikolai’s world where they’re free is one where they’re alone and without any ties to others. Sigma’s is one where he has a home and a family. They both want to be understood so badly. They see each other for what they want to be seen as. Sigma just wants to be a normal person and Nikolai sees that as the true him. Nikolai wants to be wild and free and Sigma sees that as the true him. And like, if you think about their relationship while Sigma still owned the casino, Nikolai would definitely be there forcing them to have fun and de-stress (in an annoying way or not). They understand and compliment each other so well, yet their paths are pulling them in other directions. Plus Sigma’s sky symbolism and Nikolai’s bird symbolism… ugh.

Favorite Headcanon- Stealing this from @aroacesigma, but they fully made up all that stuff about being the one legally in charge of the casino in the sense that all the laws there are controlled by him. He just didn’t was to deal with any bureaucratic bs (typed that bsd on accident, brain is INFECTED and INFESTED) so they made up their own bs. I also love xey’re headcanon about him having freckles. Sorry for not having any original ideas here but I had to defer to the CEO of transmasc Sigma eventually for this.

#wow… that was a lot 😭 #I didn’t even know I had that many thoughts about him #sigma bsd #bsd sigma