#And Stubborn!Stanley feels all of that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariahcarreyyy · 3 months

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.ೃ࿐𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑 |

max verstappen x fem!reader

plot. when max visits years after your split, the strong facade you've worn crumbles at his fingertips

wc. 3.4k

warnings. smut 18+, angry n rough sex, p in v, degradation kink, reader cheats on her longterm boyfriend lol, oral sex (f!recieving), rough fingering (f!recieving), dry humping, name-calling, doggy + missionary style, dom!max and reader who thinks shes a dom, hairpulling, slight choking, and very angsty in some parts

Two seconds.

The amount of time it takes Max to grasp your door handle and trudge into the dimly lit apartment instead of patiently allowing you to let him in is two seconds. A fitted black suit adorns his body. His body, who glides assuredly into your humble kitchen. His eyes, who choose to ignore your irritated frame.

Then his lips. His big, red lips, who swallow the copious amount of popcorn that his hands were shovelling down his throat. His massive, veiny hands who used to intertwine perfectly in yours.

Him, Max. The figure leaning over your marble counters with slouched shoulders and forearms resting against the cool surface is Max. Two cups, he notices, stand side by side on the sink. A pink Stanley cup and a cheap protein shaker that isn't his.

Max’s fingers twitch.

From where you’re frozen by the door frame, only his side profile is visible. You curl your fists tight. Suddenly, wearing an oversized Metallica t-shirt and panties didn’t seem so comfortable.

“Max.”

Your eye twitches at the acknowledgement you receive. Or lack thereof. The recently crowned third-time world champion huffs at the bowl of popcorn in his hands before turning to open the fridge. He doesn’t look very satisfied. But then again, he never really was when it came to you, was he?

The light of the furniture illuminates Max’s face rather annoyedly, contouring his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips like it had a point to prove. This is what you could’ve had, it taunted, if you hadn’t broken up.

Much louder and more irritated than before, you call out for him. And then, your eyes meet. You had spent the last few years meeting his gaze solely through the rectangular box in your living room; now, you pinch yourself in disbelief—anger, as well.

“What,” you stutter, and almost curse yourself when you catch a glimpse of his cocky smirk you remember all too well. “What are you doing here, Max?”

The fridge begins beeping loudly. Rolling his eyes, the Dutch slams it closed, slipping past you and into the living room. You follow him. The room is lit up by what feels like a thousand scented candles and it’s cold despite it.

The blond collapses on top of your couch, and the cushions pull him in like they missed him. It’s been so long, they think, and you feel better than the girl who’d been crying on us when you left.

“Where’s that guy?” Max asks bitterly, eyes stubborn on the television before him. “The one you posted yesterday at that restaurant.”

Max doesn’t follow you on any social media anymore, and an evil part of you feels content with the fact that he’d had to manually search your name to see that photo. Last night, Scotty had made a reservation at a fine, respectable Italian place to commemorate your one-year anniversary.

You had a good time; Scotty would quip about everything and anything, and you would laugh exaggeratedly. You two were a great pairing, you think— hope, for the sake of your sanity.

You make yourself home in the space next to him, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging at your shirt to cover your bare legs. “You need to leave. Now, Max.”

A quiet ‘hm’ slips past his lips. But he’s still stuck on the couch, toeing out of his dress shoes and crossing his legs together like it was his home—but, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not while you are evidently a meaningless speck in his glorious life.

When Max turns to you, disgustingly pretty blue eyes and all, you succumb to the tight grasp he has on all of your logic. “Business trip. Milan.”

An empty chuckle raises the tiny hairs on your arm and echoes across the room. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his eyes refuse to leave yours. He brings a cold hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; his fingertips leave burn marks against your cheek.

“You don’t even like Italian food,” he continues, because does he ever really know how to stop? “Does he even know you?”

And that. It shouldn’t have made you as frustrated as it did, not when you had gotten over Max. Totally. Completely. Utterly. “What, like you did? Max, you wouldn’t even give a fuck to remember our anniversary!”

The sarcastic glint in his eyes turns sour. “I had to race—Fuck! y/n, I was leading the championship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, Max, how could I forget? Red bull this, Red bull fucking that,” you seethe through gritted teeth, face inching closer to him and squinting eyes shining predatorily. “It’s been two years, Max, two years since you broke up with me. So, congrats. You got what you wanted—a trophy and a name under your belt. Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”

Max’s breath hitches, but your uncontrolled panting inhales enough air for the both of you. Then, his hand wraps around the side of your neck, not squeezing, but it’s there. It’s warm, and it feels painfully refreshing against your skin, and your protests die in your throat.

The Dutch whispers an octave lower, and only then, when his minty breath tickles your cheekbones, do you perceive your proximity, “Because I think if you really wanted me gone, I would be by now.”

And, well. He might as well be ripping open your ribcage and twisting your heart until it breaks in half, crimson blood making a mess of the carpeted floor.

You’re left speechless under his gaze because as much as you try to deny, you know it’s true. Max would leave as fast as he did two years ago if there was even a hint of honesty in your words.

“And you know what else I think?” Max takes your silence as encouragement to continue. “I think he doesn’t fuck you well enough if you’re this desperate for it.”

Somehow, you muster up enough irritation to murmur, “I—m’not desperate.”

“No?” he taunts, extending his thumb to the underside of your chin and tilting it upward. “Why haven’t you properly kicked me out, then?”

You rack your mind for a response, a reaction—fucking anything to prove you aren’t wishing he’d just inch a bit closer to close the gap between you.

“I . . . I hate you, Jesus Christ,” you curse defeatedly, craning your neck upward and frantically meeting his stupidly large lips.

The kiss isn’t slow or loving; it’s wet and filthy and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a lingering taste of honey on his tongue when he brushes it between your parted lips, and you can’t help but pull him in deeper for more.

The hand on your neck tightens significantly, Max’s breath tickling your upper lip as the other seizes around your under thigh and swiftly pulls you onto his lap.

A gasp flows out of your mouth and he greedily swallows it. You want to skin him alive when you feel him grin arrogantly, but then he presses a hand on your ass and lowers you flush against him—Him, and the massive bulge straining his black trousers—and the thoughts spill right out of your head into a gooey puddle beside your feet.

“I hate y— oh,” your murmur morphs into a shaky gasp when he rips his lips away from yours and attacks the canvas of your neck; you say those three words like you could them words into existence.

And I hate that I still want you so fucking bad; those eleven words are left unsaid like you expect him to read your mind. But Max couldn’t two years ago, and you know he can’t now.

Your hands glide over his muscular frame, relearning the sharp edges and smooth skin of his body and you moan breathily when Max sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear. “Y’might hate me, baby, but your pussy doesn’t. Fuck, she’s dripping all ov’me.”

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips. He’s not wrong— you could feel your slick coating your panties and rubbing against Max’s pants. You were usually one to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. Need him the same you did the first time you met, both young and inexperienced. Maybe more.

Probably more.

But he isn’t doing anything to relieve the ache between your thighs, so. Before you take matters into your own hands and grind your pussy against his covered dick, Max’s hands cup the mounds of your ass and lift you sideways to splay your body on the couch.

“Max,” you say like the breaths have been knocked out of your poor lungs, but it might not be so far from the truth.

Max positions himself in between your legs, hips and thick thighs parting them wide, and the itchy fabric against your naked skin spins your head in dizzying circles. You could fucking see the damp patch your slick left on his crotch. Your hips buck into the air; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

His dishevelled hair lay atop his head and you want to pull. His flush trails down his neck and you want to bite and kiss and mark it till pretty bruises litter his soft skin. Your hands and lips stay pliant under his body instead.

“Y’d only get this wet f’me, though, hm?” he groans when his fingers push your skimpy underwear to the side, unblinking like the sight of your glistening folds would disappear if he looked away.

I’m always like this for you, you feel the need to reassure, even when you aren’t here—especially when you aren’t here. But your blood still boils at his stupid hair and stupid smirk, so. He’s met with silence.

Growing impatient, Max slaps at your swollen clit, humming satisfactorily at the loud gasp you let out. He grazes his digits past the bundle of nerves, and your incessant need to murder him and fuck him till he realized he’d made a mistake letting you go only intensify.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will leave you like this, shatje,” he ends up growling lowly, thick fingers hovering over your hole. “And then it’s your boyfriend’s problem.”

“Max, fuck off–”

The warm body abruptly stands up, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this cold. But the empty sensation doesn’t last long, anyway. Max barely has any time to walk away before your fingers latch onto his forearm tightly.

You splutter, “M-Max wait, wait.”

When he tilts his head down to meet your eyes with a raised brow, you have no recollection of what you'd even wanted to say.

“Please…please, just fucking help me.”

And apparently, that's all Max needs because his hands are immediately tugging your shirt off, lips trailing hot kisses in the divot of your tits. Your lips part around a moan when he purses his lips around your hard nipple, stomach stirring uncomfortably with need. His mouth leaves marks like cigarette burns in its wake; it stings against the wounds that have already healed years ago.

The Dutch doesn’t leave you much to dwell on before he lays between your thighs again, trails his hand across your body till his fingers nudge at your lips, and shoves his index and middle finger inside the wetness of your mouth. if you were slightly more desperate, you would've whimpered at the pleasent pressure on your tongue.

If.

“Fuck, lieverd,” Max exhales when you suck your cheeks in, wet muscle darting over and between his digits— wide, innocent eyes and all. “Can he get you like this? Fucking dripping and desperate for dick?”

You shake your head frantically because it’s true. Because he couldn’t, not like Max can. Satisfied, Max only presses against your throat slightly to watch you gag around him. He brings his hand back down to the space between your legs agonizingly slow and alas, pushes them both in like he’s in a rush.

“Max! Oh, oh m’God, fuck,” you gasp, the twinge of pain is quickly overshadowed by the hot pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.

Your hips involountarily buck upwards into the fullness, but Max flattens his palm on your lower stomach to shove you down. Eyes rolling back and threading your fingers through his hair before tugging his insatiable mouth on your pussy.

“He doesn’t,” Max cuts himself off with a groan when his tongue flicks at your clit, familiar tasting slick pooling on his taste buds. “He doesn’t know you like I do, can’t make you cum as hard as I do, can he?”

He doesn’t expect a response; it isn’t even a question, as well as you’re aware. Max knows he’s the only person who can have you writhing and moaning on his fingers, cock, tongue— all three, one night.

And he’s right. But. Max’s control of the situation makes you feel queasy, so.

“No– ohh, fuckfuckfuck,” you moan, high and needy, when Max curls his fingers upwards, like a reward for agreeing with him. “He–, he fucks me better.”

From under you, Max’s face visibly dims, but you aren’t able to bask in the satisfaction it gives you before he drags his thick digits out of you—your hole clenching in protest, crying out at the emptiness when it fails to keep them inside—hooks his hands into the small of your waist, and your ass meets the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck–”

Your breath hitches when he flips you over on your elbows and knees. Back arched almost uncomfortably, furrowed brows with Max’s bruising hands on your hips to lift your ass further in the air.

When Scotty slips into bed tomorrow morning, you hope he’ll see the ugly hues of blue and green on your tainted body and leave soundlessly.

Shaking your head at the intrusive thought, you curse internally. Scotty’s nice, and you don’t deserve him. Not when you’re willingly presenting yourself to Max, the folds of your pussy connected by the lewd lines of his spit and your slick.

"Y’wanna act like a whore?" Max whispers hotly from behind you– his breath tickles your ear and his hands rise to your hair, gather your locks into a makeshift ponytail, and tug it forcefully to tilt your head back, making you wince. "I'll fucking treat you like one."

A string of your desperate whines fills Max’s ears like a symphony, and he groans with you when you begin to grind your ass backwards against his dick. His dick. Fuck, Max needs it wrapped around your tight walls, milking him for all he has; needs to watch you writhe on his cock like it was what you were made for.

“I hate you,” you repeat, much more breathless than the other times you said it, and Max has the audacity to laugh.

Though, you guess it has more to do with the fact that all the while you were saying those three words, you were still needily humping your ass against his covered dick.

You still are, and it’s driving him fucking insane. Max curses when he realizes he’s still trapped by the confines of his pants. Whoever thought wearing clothes was a good idea?

Clumsily and with only one hand whilst the other grips your hair, he fumbles out of his suit. And Max throws the articles of clothing mindlessly—on the couch, on the floor. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t fucking care.

A relieved sigh fills the room as the cool air wraps around his painfully hard cock. Your breath hitches when you feel the thick tip graze your pussy. His hand hastily grips at his base, aligns it to your folds, and coating it in your slick as he strokes it once, twice.

“Ah! Max, holy shit,” you blabber when his cock nudges against your swollen clit, and finally, thrusts his hips forward, the tip fitting snugly against your walls. “Oh, oh, fuck, moremoremore, please.”

And Max. Well, Max is doomed.

“Fuck, liefje, your pussy missed me so fucking bad, I know, I know,” Max coos when your hole clenches around him greedily, and spreads your cheeks with one hand, gazing obscenely at the sight of you sucking more and more of him inside.

The familiar stretch burns and yet your hips push back against his cock— three words ringing in your otherwise empty mind: full, full, fuller. Max’s hips stutter as he meets your movements halfway, fucking his stupidly massive cock into your wetness and tightening his hold on your hair.

You wish you could say you hate the pain as much as you hate him.

“Max, Max, Max,” you urge him as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you don’t really know what for; your neediness took over your senses the moment Max kissed you.

But Max, he’d already memorized all of it— all your tells, those things that pushed you over the edge—, protected them inside a dust-covered chest buried in his mind. It was no surprise he knew what to do with you now, filling you to the brim and pounding into you ruthlessly.

“Yes! Yes! Mm fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you sob happily, and Max wouldn’t fucking dare.

The man behind you tugs you upright with the hand on your hair, his chest flush heatedly against your back and tilting your head to pounce at your neck.

“Tell me,” Max growls slowly, slowing his assaults on your wet pussy, and now, you’re almost sure that your hate is reciprocated. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”

A loud yelp leaves your lips when he slaps your clit again, and a slight gush of slick slides down your walls, dripping lewdly onto his balls. Your hand reaches up to grip his hair and pulls his pillowy lips back onto your neck; tears brim at your waterline. You aren’t sure if it’s because of how badly you want to cum or miss him— you blink.

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be possible because. Because you don’t miss him.

“He’s nothing, Max, nothing compares to you,” you cry out, and Max falters.

Then, he pulls out.

“Huh? Wha…” You inhale sharply, feeling so stupidly empty.

Before you dig a hole for you and your pussy to crawl in and die, Max is swiftly turning you over by your hips and engulfing his dick in your walls again. Your mouth falls open again; Max takes it as an opportunity to press his lips against yours.

Your hands cradle his face and kiss him back gently like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Like he isn’t projecting his pent up frustration for the last two years onto your wet, tight pussy. A muffled cry escapes your mouth when Max thrusts into you with newfound fervor.

His lips detach from yours, burrying his forehead into the crook of your neck to, hopefully, muffle his groans. “Max– ah! Oh m’God, I’m so close, please just.”

Max nods, wild and frantic and horny, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. He tweaks, pinches, and rubs at your clit until you let out a shriek and your thighs close instinctively around him.

He bottoms out, grinding helplessly inside the heat of your pussy. “Cum f’me, shatje, wanna feel you cum on m’cock. Fucking cum.”

And, well, if you were even the slightest bit good at denying Max, you wouldn’t even be in this position. So. You arch your back off the ground with a high, loud moan and savour the white specs in your vision that only Max seems to bring out of you.

He fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with short, wild thrusts. “Ah, fuckkk, if only y’were as good as y’pussy is to me, liefje, y’d be getting m’cock like this every fucking night— Fuck!”

Beads of Max’s thick cum fill you to the brim with a loud groan and a long string of curses, tainting your insides a heavenly white. His hips stutter when you clench around him, milking him for all he has just like he’d wanted. And, when Max pulls out with a shaky gasp, he takes another piece of your heart with him.

Maybe, if you make this same mistake enough, he’d realize he has your heart already, full and pieced together.

But Max was never one to take a hint, never one to read your mind, so you settle for the parts of him you can have once in a blue moon; you settle for him picking you up, carrying you to your bedroom, cleaning the mess between your legs, and pulling the covers above your naked frame; you settle for the scowl on his face when he notices the polaroid of you and Scotty on your bedside table.

“I hate y—”

Max leaves the room before you can finish your sentence.

He knows.

authors notes dedicating this to @enchantecafe + @scuderiahoney bcs they were hor knee for max on this poll (me too) i hope you guys like it and thank you to @cafekitsune for the dividers once again xx

i feel like this isn't my best work but i'll post it anyway because i spent a lot of time on it and yolo. also i think i fried my brain with it.

also, writing this fic made me realize idfk how to write angry sex it just ends up being angsty so. i think at times theyre angry but as they go on, some of that tension dissipitates and they both realize they want but cant have each other. tried my best tho!! xx

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🐢

taglist in separate posts bcs tumblr chooses to be annoying <33

p.s reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💚💚

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alecvolturiswifeforever · 6 months

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All too well | F.V x Reader

warnings: angst? fluffff ( tbh i was listening to taylor swift while writing this hence the name)

ʚɞ

Pulling back the old curtains of your childhood home the familiar image of the Swan house came into view and the muscles of your jaw tensed on their own accord. Wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and pulling your wool hat over your ears you stepped out of the front door, onto the porch. You were weary, well aware of the fact that if was snowing and there was more than likely ice waiting to send you sliding down the concrete stairs.

You lived in the house on the opposite side of the street. Both you and Bella had grown up together, practically conjoined from the moment she arrived back in Forks every time she would visit her father right up until the moments she had to leave.

That was until she left when she you were around thirteen, confessing to you that she wouldn’t be coming back to visit again anytime soon. You remembered the moment all too well, as if it was yesterday, the memory replaying in the forefront of your mind.

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You both let out rather loud giggles as you lay together upon your bed, flipping through old magazines you had stolen from your mother and gossiping like the preteen girls you were.

“Oh! I should get going… dad said I have to be home by six today! Early flight and all tomorrow” Bella rolled her eyes as she spoke and another giggle elicited from you as you sat up.

“How long are you going for this time?” You had questioned innocently and the atmosphere immediately changed as your room was suddenly full of an uncomfortable stuffiness. That was when she confessed.

“Um.. I don’t… I’m not really planning on coming back anytime soon…”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“Mom said that we’re moving again… but it’s going to be more permanent this time and I just… I don’t really like coming here that much anyway…”

“Oh…”

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You recalled the tight feeling in your throat and the burn of tears behind your eyes. Yes you lived in the small town for your entire life but you had never really had many friends, none with the bond you had shared with the Swan girl and you definitely did not want to be friends with people like Jessica Stanley.

When Bella had moved back it was almost relieving and you both fell back into your old ways quickly. Staying at each others houses late, gossiping, sharing books and little trinkets.

That was until he came into the picture.

If you knew one thing it was that you absolutely despised Edward Cullen. Especially for taking your best friend away again just to leave her. Alone. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of September. What a jerk.

You were snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of voices, averting your eyes as you saw both Bella and her devil spawn step out of the house. Your lips parted as you made eye contact, and she threw you a glare turning to face Edward.

“Y/N, are you coming or not?” You heard the voice of your father yell from the car and you sighed before pulling the door shut and locking it.

“Coming!”

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“Bella please!”

You heard the yell from your spot on your couch and you rushed outside to see the commotion. Crossing the road and eyeing the sharp look of Alice.

“Bella is convinced she is going to Italy to save her leech..” Jacob hissed.

“Leech?” You whispered in confusion before shaking your head “Bella you cant just leave and go to Italy right now, what about your dad?”

“I’m 18. It’s legal.” She rolled her eyes and you huffed. Why did she always have to be so stubborn?

“Well then i’m coming with you.” You had reached for the handle to the backseat of the car and slid in. That was when Alice paused, Bella throwing a worried look in her direction. After a moment of silence she spoke up.

“Y/N I can’t let you come”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… safe for you.”

“Well either i’m going or both me and Bella or staying… and by the looks of it she’s not willing to get out of the car” You turned and strapped yourself in and Alice huffed under her breath before muttering a sharp ‘have it your way’ and speeding off.

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The rest was quite blurry for you, only remembering certain snippets of their explanations on the plane ride there. You were informed about the existence of vampires, how Bella and Edward were mated, Alice’s vision… all that boring stuff. You remembered one moment very well though.

The moment you made eye contact with him. The way his eyes softened as he took you in. The feel of his hand lightly brushing your back as you stood in the elevator.

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“Interesting” You heard the raven haired king hum, dropping your hand as he turned to look at the giant, seeking for his hand. He let out a loud laugh as you flinched back only to find Edward had pulled Bella back a few feet. You turned to look at him, eyes darting between him and the smaller Cullen next to them.

“What’s going on?” Your voice was accusing as you eyed them before you turned back to the man in front of you who was still looking at Felix.

“My dear, you have finally found your mate”

You remember the flip of your stomach, heartbeat increasing. You turned a hateful gaze back to Alice.

“You knew…” You spoke carefully as you put the pieces together. Your voice raised as she shook her head.

“You knew and you tried to stop me from coming!”

“Y/N…”

You only glared at her as the blonde king quickly moved back to the situation at hand.

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They had granted you all until graduation, Felix would visit you frequently while you continued the rest of your education and Edward had until then to turn his mate. The journey home was awkward to say the least. You and Alice had argued back and fourth in the reception once Demetri had guided you out of the throne room and after that they refused to acknowledge you. You rolled your eyes at the memory - the audacity of them to think it was you who was in the wrong, as if any of this was your fault.

They were furious that you had allowed him to speak to you, let alone touch you.

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“What do you want?” you heard Edwards menacing hiss as the vampire came into frame, lifting your head from where you had buried them into your knees to see what was happening.

“I’m here to speak to my mate. You will do well to back off before I put you through the wall again.”

You hoped his eyes wouldn’t fall onto you however the hope was quickly crushed as his gaze moved right to you, holding a large hand out to you.

“May I take a moment of your time?”

You sighed, half tempted to look to the others for guidance however you stopped yourself when you remembered they now wanted nothing to do with you. So you took his hand, uncurling yourself from the position you was in and allowed him to guide you out into a seemingly abandoned hallway.

“I apologise for the… violence… you had to witness, I did not intend for it to startle you.” Clearly he had heard the way your breathing had shallowed and your heartbeat increase then.

“It’s.. it’s fine” You struggled to find the right words to speak to the stranger in front of you and you shifted your weight from one foot to another awkwardly.

“You are so much more beautiful than I had imagined” You were convinced you weren’t meant to hear that, tilting your head to look up at him. You took in his face, the bright red of his eyes, the way his hair fell softly over his forehead and you couldn’t help but feel entranced. His hand lifted as if on it’s own accord and he searched your eyes carefully.

“May I?” His voice was deep as he spoke and you gave him a weary nod, jolting at the current that ran through your body as his cold hand made contact with your cheek, running his thumb across your cheekbone. You let out a breathe you had no idea you were holding and melted into him as he pulled you into him.

“I have finally found you.”

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You smiled at the memory, watching the scenery blur by the window of the car. For once you felt at ease, as if everything was perfect.

That was how you knew, you were exactly where you needed to be. You knew it all too well.

ʚɞ

#felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi fics #volturi #volturi imagines #the twilight saga #demetri volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi

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joesheistyy · 1 year

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Sniffle Prevention

You had a terrible cold. When it came to sickness, you were able to hold your own. Except, this time around, it was different.

Joe had been out at football practice, and you were at home miserable. You had been having a hard time sleeping and even just breathing in general. Joe had tried with the home remedies, but this one was stubborn.

When Joe got home from practice, the first thing he did was come check on you. You were laying in bed with some mega dark circles, a glass of cold water, a box of tissues, and your favorite throw blanket. Joe gave you a pout, seeing your miserable state.

"Are you feeling any better after taking meds?" He asked, coming over to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nope, still miserable," you sniffled, "I tried sleeping again, but I feel like my own snot is suffocating me," you tried to let out a laugh, but your throat was sore from having to be a mouth breather.

“Is it mostly when you lay down?” He questioned, sitting down on the edge of the bed facing you.

“Yeah, when I sit up it’s not as bad, but it still sucks,” you huffed, reaching for another tissue to try to clear your nose.

“Hmm, that’s difficult, isn’t it?” Joe gave you a soft smile as you nodded in response.

“I just wanna take a fucking nap or something. I’m so tired,” you groaned as Joe began to get up to go change from practice. He turned on the shower, suggesting one for yourself as well.

“Babe what about a warm bath? That might help clear you up,” he suggests after putting all his dirty clothes in the hamper of the bathroom.

“I mean that could be nice but I just feel like such ass,” you whined again, slowly moving to get out of bed.

“I think you should take one, I’ll get it started for you,” he said, starting the bath as his shower was still heating up. That’s one thing you both loved about the house. A nice big shower and a nice big tub. Separate from each other, but really nicely sized.

You submerged yourself in the water once it was ready and Joe hopped in the shower. You let your eyes close and your head tilt back in hopes of your sinuses draining even in the slightest. The warm water caused your body to relax a little bit, but your head still hurt from all the sniffling.

Joe hopped out of the shower and wrapped his towel around his waist. Was that one of the hottest things you had ever seen? It absolutely was. Joe loves it when you look at him the way you do when he wears a towel around his waist, but this day was different. He wanted you to feel better, no funny business.

“Any success in stuffy sniffle prevention?” He asks as he comes back in the bathroom after finding boxers and gym shorts.

“Once again, not really,” you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Damn baby, this is a tough one to crack,” he says, pulling your towel out of the towel warmer. You get out of the bath slowly while Joe wraps your towel around you, followed with his arms. He felt your body shiver from the cold air which caused him to pull your damp body in closer.

Joe helped you dry off and get comfy clothes on. You decided it was time to leave the stuffy bedroom for the first time all day. Anything to even try to lessen your symptoms.

Joe had made his way downstairs to make you some soup. You followed, walking toward the barstools to watch him at work in the kitchen. He made you a glass of water and scooted over a box of tissues for you.

While eating your soup, Joe cleaned up the bedroom and opened the window in hopes to make it a little less stuffy for you.

After you finished your soup, you set the bowl in the sink and headed back up to your room. You grabbed a new box of tissues and set them on your nightstand with your white Stanley tumbler filled with ice water.

Joe was laying in bed with open arms, welcoming you in. He had the switch turned on, getting ready to play super smash bros.

“Here babe, come sit on my lap. You can lean your head on my shoulder and sleep,” he said, pausing his game to allow you to climb on top of him.

This was one of those moments where sitting on his lap didn’t turn you on, it calmed you. You were able to get comfy, legs wrapping around his back and arms around his neck. Your head rested on the crook of his neck, still unable to smell his cologne because of congestion.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, looking at the screen ahead of him and spamming multiple buttons.

“Baby are you able to breathe a little better this way?” Joe asked, leaning to his left to give your cheek a kiss.

“A bit, yeah. I may fall asleep honestly,” you spoke with a sigh.

“Go ahead honey, I know you need some rest,” he said, nuzzling his head into yours to show some love to his sick baby.

“Are you sure?” You asked, leaning up to look toward his face briefly.

“Yes baby, I’m sure. You need to get a nap in or something, I can tell how tired you are,” he said, stroking your hair after pausing his game.

“Okay then, imma rest my head right here and try to sleep,” you said, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes in hopes you could get even the slightest amount of sleep in. You were so tired after sleeping like shit the past few nights.

Joe continued smashing away at buttons, trying not to get too worked up over super smash bros. He knew his angel needed to sleep, and finding a comfortable way for you to sit up to breathe and to sleep comfortably at the same time was his ultimate goal.

As you dozed off, Joe kept quiet while playing his game. He dusted you in kisses and hugged you close, hoping that you’d soon be able to sleep soundly again. If this was all he could do to help you feel even the slightest bit better, he was all over it.

———

I hope y’all enjoyed this! I’ve had such a stubborn cold all week and while watching the game, my bf gave me a shot of everclear that I didn’t know was everclear cause I’ve been so badly congested 💀 so I hope the last bit of this makes sense cause I’m drunk and sitting by the toilet rn 🤣 I love y’all, thanks for almost 300 followers!!!

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #bengals quarterback #bengals #joe sheisty #nfl imagine #joe burrow blurb #nfl #cincinatti bengals #joe burrow x reader #Joe burrow head cannon #joe burrow oneshot #daddy burrow #sexy burrow #god I love Joe burrow

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janirah · 5 months

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So who confesses first

Stanley ?

Or both?

In a way, Stanley forced N to confess.

At one point, Stanley accidentally caused N to have a panic attack, and told him that N needed to be alone, away from the cause of the panic and calm down. N, suspicious and anxious, in his style overthinking those words, decided that everything was over and that a partner with panic attacks was too much for Stanley. And he began to avoid Stanley until he simply ambushed N in his office and asked himself if their relationship was over? N replied that it was impossible to finish something that had never even begun. Fortunately for all of us, Stanley is a stubborn asshole, he demanded to tell him straight out that N doesn't feel anything for him and, in principle, he never wanted this relationship.

And N…he couldn't. He wanted this, all of this, even if it was very difficult. So technically, N confessed first.

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #half life parable #stanarrator

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whispangleblogger · 8 months

Text

I am not somebody that hops onto the "comic discourse" a lot. I usually prefer to talk things through with my friends and share opinions in private.

But since Tangle more or less got ignored so far i take the chance and talk a bit about her appearance in 64

She jumps in as a supportive character towards Whisper and helps her to prevent another breakdown. While yes, there was a scene in Urban Warfare that did the exact same thing, i feel like with issue 64 we finally see how strong of an impact this support actually has on the page. (I talk a bit more about Urban Warfare further down this post.) I don't even dare and call this bait (Edit: Not my words btw. i saw this used in another heated post. I personally never felt baited in any form. If anything, the girls relationship is one big highlight in these comics.) because it simply isn't. Here is a character that cares for her partner and also is uncomfortable with the whole situation to begin with. She has to decide where her priorities lie. Her reaction is to be expected to be focused on a trembling Whisper and all i can say is i'm glad we finally have a good depiction of that.

Tangle has the right to approach Whisper in ways i think no other character is able to, she earned it and it pretty much shows on this page. Softly taking down Whisper's mask and checking on her, the body language in these panels is chefs kiss. She's truly a bouncy girl, but it's good to see her being serious every now and then, i feel like it's a side of her that people usually tend to ignore. (And i really don't know why that is.) Evan Stanley does always an amazing job if it comes to showing Tangle in a different light or how she cares about her friends and loved ones. In regards about the current arc and even the last one, i feel like this post is a good chance to add my personal take to it as well, since it's been on my mind for a good while now. I feel like 64 finally makes a step into the right direction again.

To elaborate a little on that, i wasn't really a big fan of Urban Warfare, simply for the fact that it's pacing is all over the place. There were a lot of things that needed to be covered, to name a few: - new team building - Whisper's trauma - Lanolin introduced as a new character - a LOT of other teams jumping into the scene - the city itself all squeezed into a 5 book arc. One more book compared to a mini series that usually gives full focus to a set of chosen characters.

To make this clear, there are also good things in Urban Warfare as well but thanks to the fact how rushed the whole story felt in it's core it's a bit hard to enjoy the good bits as well...

Misadventures still deals with the same pacing problem and i believe that is where the real issue lies. As a reader/collector of the books and longtime fan of them, all i can say is:

I wish the comics would get their old, well cared, time for details back. Yes, a story like the Metal Virus was a long run but in the end it was a fantastic read. Mini arcs like Trial by Fire (Still one of my favorites), that focus on other things instead of the usual action, are also very important for character development and add a lot of depth to them. Endless Summer is a great example for such addition as well. These books provide insight into character interaction we usually don't see otherwise. Of course i have no idea how much SEGA is involved into everything if it comes to general decisions like how long one arc is supposed to last and when the next one should start.

(The next part is based on my personal taste, this has nothing to do with the general narrative of the books. I just want to share my thoughts about this since i really don't write them down a lot.)

As a little side note, i feel like Lanolin is a great character so far. Her stubborn and rule book like demeanor as a leader is refreshing to say the least. She also seems to be really close to how her creator ABT imagines her to be and i really appreciate that. But i can't help it and feel like her team dynamic with Tangle and Whisper comes of as rather… rocky ? On a combat level of things it works really good but on a friendship level it's somehow lacking atm. There is this boss and coworker relationship going on that feels more like real work. Obviously though she's new and needs more time to get better established. I guess we will see how this plays out in the future. I'm all in for a good or funny team dynamic but i also can't help it and feel like she works better as an addition to Jewel, running the restoration, the navigator typ that sends intel via com instead of a field combatant. Even if she proved she's good at close combat as well during her encounter with Whisper in 64. That being said, i am all open for surprises and more character development on her part. This is really just a "now" opinion and can easily change over time. I like the sheep, i really do.

#IDW Sonic #Whisper the Wolf #Tangle the Lemur #Whispangle #Just some thoughts i wanted to get out of my head #long opinion posts always take forever to write - language barrier demands extra brain juice - cries in german #Thanks to my friends SomethingSonicRelated - Honeydew - DillyWolf and ScurvyPiratehog for looking over this post #providing some additions as well #64 was a good read overall #the Whispangle moment was soft and needed #not adding more details about the issue in general since i still try to keep the theme of the blog as it's focus.#I think the post speaks for itself :>#There are still moments i hold really high and dear to me from the last arc #best example's probably my pinned post heh <3

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everysongineverykey · 2 years

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the narrator's google search history must be like. how to tell when humans are mad. how to tell when humans are happy. most common human emotions. can you edit steam reviews. 100 most serious tables home depot. fun buttons for humans to push. what does a hug feel like. human expressions. the stanley parable game of the year. the stanley parable 2022 awards nominations? what does rain feel like on skin. what does sunlight feel like on skin. forest cabin. nostalgic french music for forest cabin. are forest cabins good for romantic getaways. difference in feeling between warm and cold. minecraft free download. portal free download. friendship free download? firewatch free download. humans dancing. humans singing. how far a fall will kill a human? how to negotiate with humans. are all humans annoyingly stubborn. what makes a human human? loving wife voice filter. requirements for happiness. (stanley kissing.) guitar tutorial easy. guitar music through history. how do i make humans like me. how to deal with feelings for buckets. how to deal with feelings for stanley. will i ever be free.

#the stanley parable #he. is like queen d/ltarune to me in that he is constantly searching for ways to understand #and get through to humans OSTENSIBLY to get them to buy his game but really more deeply to be more like them.#because when it comes down to it he does not know what he is he has no name he is just 'the narrator'. he does not exist #outside of his function in the game his identity is tied to this parable and he just wants to be something #someone more. he wants to be free but he can't. he's stuck here with stanley #someone who he loves deeply- desperately- dangerously- but can't seem to understand at all #he just wants to be seen. known. understood. he wants connection but it's so hard #when you're everywhere at once and your only companion would rather be nowhere than with you

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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year

Note

A kiss to distract with Svech please 💚

I have to confess I am very shocked you didn't make me write barzal but I am more than happy to provide with our favorite russian

Prompt: A kiss to distract

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Word Count: 711

Warnings: Adult themes/content, implied smut, a tiny bit of angst

“...and the Colorado Avalanche have won the Stanley Cup!”

The announcers voices crack with excitement as confetti bursts from the ceiling, the pile of gloves and helmets on the ice as the camera pans to the dog pile celebration. There’s an unmatched euphoria that’s contagious, and it’s hard not to get chills watching anyone win the coveted trophy, even if it’s not the team or players you’d prefer.

Andrei’s eyes are glued to the TV, unable to pull himself away despite the deep hole growing larger in his chest. Part of him wants to turn it off, to not watch another moment of the Avs celebrating something that he yearns for, the other part of him committing the sight to memory as motivation – so he can remember this moment when it’s finally his turn to lift the Cup.

You’re beside him, watching his inner turmoil fester, even more so when Phil Pritchard walks out onto the ice with Lord Stanley, shining brighter than any other accolade or award or achievement. You can practically feel Andrei’s heart sink when Landeskog takes it, the 34.5 pound trophy weightless as he lifts it for the first time.

“Drei,” you say softly, though he makes no motion to show he heard you, or even remembers you’re there beside him. “Andrei.”

“Hmm?” His eyes don’t leave the screen, though his jaw is now clenched tightly without his knowledge, ticking as he grits his teeth.

“Maybe we should turn this off?”

“I want to watch it,” he says, only realizing that he’s gripping the edge of the blanket in his fist when he goes to stop your hand from reaching for the remote.

“Baby, I don’t think we should –”

It’s a dark look sent in your direction that stops your sentence, the glare so unlike him. It’s also what confirms your suspicion that something is wrong – he just doesn’t know it yet, or is too stubborn to admit it.

So, you do the only thing you know will be a foolproof distraction. At least, you’re pretty sure.

Andrei’s eyes flash when you crawl into his lap, obstructing his view of the TV when you straddle his hips. He’s irritated, huffing in frustration as he leans over, craning his neck to see around you. “Dorogoy, please.”

You ignore him, instead leaning forward to kiss him. He kisses you back, his shoulders relaxing only slightly, before he’s pulled away and trying to see around you again.

It’s your turn to huff, annoyed that he doesn’t seem interested in kissing you – usually one of his favorite activities — still set on torturing himself instead. But you’re determined, not willing to give up yet.

Andrei’s attention snaps to you when your hands tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it behind you. With a smirk, you take his hands, resting loosely on your hips, and place them on your breasts over your lace bralette.

“I think you have something much more exciting to look at, don’t you?” you ask. The implication is crystal clear, hanging out into the open for him to accept or deny.

In typical boy fashion, all remaining thoughts fly out of his head upon the feeling of your breasts in his hands, this time not fighting it when you lean in to kiss him again. Instead, he lets his hands roam your body, succumbing to the desire you’ve stoked in him, slowly, pulling him away from the certain pain and frustration that comes from watching someone else win what he covets.

You’re all his, though, smiling when he scoops you up into his arms to finish what you started – in the bedroom. It’s a thorough distraction, one full of moans and love bites and red scratch marks on his back that he loves so much, enough to make him completely forget what you were distracting him from in the first place.

It’s only later, much later, when he’s holding you in his arms, feeling your soft skin beneath his fingertips, that he remembers how you got here in the first place. He smiles to himself, because although the disappointment still lingers – will always linger until he gets to touch that trophy himself – he’ll always have you to make him smile.

#c does requests #andrei svechnikov blurb #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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spaceistheplaceart · 2 years

Note

if stanley and narrator switched places?

This is the story of a man named [Narrator's human name] (I'll be using Narry as a placeholder)

Narry was a writer. Well, in spirit. In practice, he didn't write much at all. He had so many ideas, so many stories untold, just because he couldn't get the words down on the page. And when he did, they often ended up in the trash.

This is what Narry did every day, of every month, of every year. And the thing that he cherished so greatly, actually began to make him miserable.

And then one day, something very peculiar happened. Something that would forever change Narry. Something he would never forget.

He had been at his writing desk for nearly an hour, with hardly any words on the pages. He had been so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten to eat, forgotten to drink... eventually, he realized he needed to get moving, and got up from his desk. He stretched and opened the door to head out of his bedroom.

But instead of the familiar sight of his apartment, Narry was met with something new.

Alright, enough of that. I don't know what kind of story Stanley constructs for Narry. Honestly, the more I think about Stanley the more kind I make him. It's a little ooc to be honest, but I do think he's an average, but good natured man. In this sense, I think he creates stories to make people happy. And to entertain himself, too. He's a devious little shit when he wants to be.

Anyways, Stanley basically takes Narry on a life changing story in the same vein as "infinity train" where each plot beat relates to something Narry is feeling or w/e Basically Stanley is GOING to make Narry's life better whether he likes it or not.

By the way, Stanley doesn't talk much at all. He doesn't narrate except the intro. And when he does talk, it's very softly spoken. Instead, he's more of the manager backstage of the play, making sure things go smoothly.

Narry is stubborn and disobeys stanley where he deems fit. stanley tries to urge him to go back, but when that doesnt work, that's when Stanley begins fucking with him.

Nothing malicious! Stanley never hurts Narry (except in one ending) but it's more Alice in Wonderland confusion that makes Narry's logical head do sumersaults trying to parce.

He'll give him an unsolvable puzzle, he'll turn gravity upside down, y’know those “animator vs animation” vids where the animator is just a silly lil dickhead to the animations? it’s that.

But when Narry actually follows the story to completion, it changes him. It inspires him. It shows him that things don't need to be perfect, and he should just write what's in his heart. Or whatever life lesson Narry needs.

Stanley meets Narry at the end and they share a tender goodbye. Narry doesn't want to go. Stanley insists he must, he has a life and people who care about him.

Narry leaves, relucantly, but never forgets about Stanley.

He writes his new book. And it starts something like this:

"This is the story of a man named Stanley."

Oh, btw, abt Stanley's design... I imagine he'd want to come off as nonthreatening, but I don't quite think he'd go so far as "plush" so... i played around a bit w the design

I think he'd chose a human form, but the little silhouette guy is cute :)

#ah im soft now #stanley how did you become so kind? the characterization has really gotten out of my hands #tsp #tspud #the narrator #the stanley parable #op art #op posts #feel free to rb

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pix3lplays · 8 months

Note

Dr. Xeno with an s/o who forces him to take breaks because he always forgets to do so when he’s so absorbed in what he’s doing. They bring him lunch or snacks and eat together as a small break.

Any pronouns I just didn’t know which one you’re ok with doing so I used they/them, hehe. Will be back for more Senku and Stanley requests, these three are literally my favs from the anime and manga.

-🍠

That’s Awesome those three are definitely my favorite too, they’re all so cool in their own different ways! Thanks for the request, and you are totally welcome to submit anymore you’d like, 🍠 Also I love this request! Our poor man really needs a break! I do prefer they/them pronouns, simply because I never really use pronouns when I write. Thanks for being so understanding hehe! Turned it into a tiny fic, with a few headcanons hehe Ok wow enough of me talking let’s get into it

-Dr. Xeno when s/o helps him to remember to take breaks-

He’s always working at something. Always Going…and you’re proud of him, but worried that he’s not taking care of himself.

“Xeno…” you say, entering his lab. He’s hard at work, hunched over a microscope, and he seems so absorbed in what he’s doing you think he doesn’t notice you.

“Set it down over there,” he says, pointing to one of the empty tables in his lab.

Oh. Apparently he Did notice you were there, with your little lunch box for him.

“Actually, I was hoping we could…eat together?” you try carefully. He really was a busy man, and you had a feeling he was going to say no and then shoo you out of his lab so he could work.

He looks up from his microscope finally, to stare at you.

He seems to think for a moment. You make a slightly pouty expression at him, one that said “please?”

He sighs.

“Oh, alright,” he agrees like it’s a hassle to take a break, and you inwardly cheer, and outwardly smile at him while you settle down at the table to eat lunch with your favorite scientist.

It becomes a sort of routine for the two of you. You bringing him little snacks or lunches, him Always forgetting to eat… And it’s great because it doubles as a little break for him, where the two of you can catch up.

At first he’s pretty stubborn about Not taking breaks though. It’s pretty frustrating for both of you, but eventually you’re able to convince him, with a little determination.

He even gets to the point where he starts thanking you for bringing him stuff.

He learns to miss you when you skip a day.

And maybe, just maybe one day he’ll return the favor for you. Remind you to eat, or take a break, under the pretense that it’s mandatory, but anyone can tell it’s because the scientist really cares for you…

All in all, you love Xeno, but he has a bad habit of working himself a little Too hard. Hence where you come in! And you know deep down the scientist is appreciative of your efforts, even if he doesn’t express that all the time…

Author’s note: hope you liked! Thanks for reading! I’m excited to see what else you wish to request, 🍠

#Dr. Stone #Dr. Stone x reader #Dr. Xeno x reader #Dr. stone Dr. Xeno x reader #Xeno x reader #Dr. Xeno Wingfield x reader #Dr. Stone Dr. Xeno Wingfield x reader

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thenamesmobu · 9 months

Text

Agus Dewantara

New Narrator of the Parable

Part 3: Put to the Test

It has been over a week now, Devin showed no signs of getting up. The Parable was showing signs of deterioration due to the lack of story happening. There was no one else who can operate the Parable out of the two than Agus. He had already recieved guidance from Devin and, despite his lack of experience, has the ability to control the Parable. So, in their desparate need, Agus took up the spot as the momentary Narrator of the Parable.

Things... had a rough start at first. All this time Agus had been training to take a hold of the Parable under Devin's supervision and assistance, but this time, he's all on his own. Under his control in the beginning, the Parable was experiencing many errors and glitches. Furnitures were phasing into the walls, the story didn't make much sense, and William (Stanley) kept clipping through the floor. Needless to say, he didn't had a good head start.

Though he was barely keeping it together all the time, Agus made a promise to himself that he will do his best to maintain the Parable. The young man was stubborn and refuses to back down, inspite of the failures. Agus will do this while the original Narrator is absent. He will endure all the failures for William, he will endure this for Devin...

...

Several months passed by, and still, no signs of the original Narrator waking up. Agus was getting a hand of his new role now. His stern belief that Devin would wake up someday did not leave his mind. He has to wake up someday, he has to. At this point, Agus has made noticible changes to himself, it was as if he was trying to mske himself look similar to Devin. He took up his appearance to feel more confident in his role. Him and William has had a tough time with Devin's absence, but both hung on to each other and be there for one another.

Agus' skills were improving as the months passed by. Though it still wasn't perfect, it was far better than how he did a few months back. He will keep to his words for however long as possible. Agus was working on his next story when his tante, Nara (belongs to @tsuru-yasunaga ), came in to announce that Devin was finally awake.

He dropped everything that he was doing and came dashing in towards the room where Devin was resting in all this time. He turned from the doorway, and saw Devin sat up with William already beside him. He was tempted to run, yet he simply calmly walks towards him instead, before immediately embracing the original Narrator in a tight hug. He was holding back tears, yet some managed to leak out of his eyes.

It would be over a week before Devin made full recovery. He experienced throbbing migraines after he woke up, much movements would only stings his brain. During this time, Devin acted differently than how he used to. He's more calm, relaxed, and warm. He smiled more often and at some points even laughed. Had the shock from a few months ago changed him this way? However, when asked if he was fine, he was, he really was. It was as if his mental state had rapidly improved over the last few months.

When he finally made his full recovery, Devin was ready to take up his role as the Narrator again. However, Agus stepped in and insisted that he takes up the new role. He very shyly and awkwardly admitted that he should be the one taking over because he wants Devin to take a well-deserved break. And, well, after some talking, they eventually settled on the agreement. Agus becomes the new Narrator of the Parable, and Devin would step down from his position and retire.

Aaaand that's how we got here. Here are the links to the other parts of the story:

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

#HWIAUWIAYWISUIWUSUAYS #I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #UWAAAAAAAA WRITER'S BLOCK GOT ME HARD #SORRY #BUT YEAH #NEW NARRATOR #YIPPEEE🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp the narrator #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tspud narrator #tspud the narrator #tsp oc #tspud oc #Mobu's writings #my art

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headcanonthings · 1 month

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As someone still fairly new to the Terror AMC fandom this idea I’m about to outline might have already been written and if so please send it to me

But if not hear me out……….A Black Butler-esque AU

As someone who has fallen in love with Jopson I’ve seen a couple fics that point out or emphasize how good of a steward he is

And the source material already establishes that there are some kind of supernatural entities out there so this doesn’t feel like a big stretch to kind of connect the two

So here’s what I’m seeing:

Crozier runs into some trouble during the Antarctic trip with Ross

like SEVERE LIFE THREATENING kind of trouble

To save his men (especially his best friend and maybe crush Ross) Crozier makes a demon deal

Maybe he doesn’t really understand at first, maybe he thinks the conversation is some kind of dream/hallucination or maybe he believes right away and just weighs the lives of everyone else as worth more than his soul

But he does it and now he’s got a faithful and hellishly good steward in the form of demon!Jopson

Using his demon powers Jopson gets them out of trouble, saves everyone he can, and the expedition is completed and considered a major success

Crozier doesn’t regret the deal but he’s wary of asking demon!Jopson for more things + his own stubborn pride keeps him from asking for more personal things

He wants to earn promotions and higher social standing on his own merits, he wants Sophia Cracroft to love him on her own not because demon!Jopson has done something

So in the 10 years between the Antarctic Expedition and the Arctic Expedition demon!Jopson continues to fill in the steward/servant role (or maybe he just fucks off for a bit, hangs out in hell, makes other deals and just checks on with crozier like yearly idk how close you want to stick with the source materials)

But then we get to the Franklin Expedition

Things play out as expected and even through Crozier is frustrated with Sir John he won’t ask demon!Jopson to intervene

Then the Tunbac appears

We lose Lt. Gore and the others including Sir John

Maybe demon!Jopson knows what’s going on maybe he doesn’t - depends how much you want to play around with the theologies

But I’m imagining we still stick pretty close to the events of the show, lots of misunderstandings and denial of what’s going on

Then we get to the confrontation between Crozier and Fitzjames over the rum

I’m imagining Crozier has rationalized his drinking a lot here because he’s already sold his soul so what does it matter

But after the confrontation he realizes he needs to sober up

Demon!Jopson offers to cure him or at least ease the way but Crozier declines just like he did earlier because it matters to him that he does this the hard way

I think once we hit Carnival is when we can really start diverging from the main plot

Stanley still lights it up but since Crozier will always do his best for the men he finally ask demon!Jopson for help so more men make it out including Macdonald because Goodsir deserves the support for all the medical things

Maybe Hickey still stabs him in his one good deed but demon!Jopson is able to save him and seeing the doctor walking around fine alerts Hickey that there’s something else going on than just the Tunbac

They start the long walk but Crozier asks demon!Jopson for help to save everyone so demon!Jopson ensure that they are rescued (either by Ross or by the Inuits)

That’s the basics at least but here are a couple extra thoughts that may or may not fit together

During their time interrogating Silna about the Tunbac or maybe during an additional scene, Silna reveals she knows Jopson is a demon and in turn this reveals it to some of the other command crew members

Crozier still field promotes Jopson and the demon has no idea why or what to do because he’s not actually a part of the Navy but it still means so much to him

Jopson was originally human and saw his mother through her own addiction, she nearly died when she tried to get sober and Jopson sold his soul to ensure her survival (this happened a century or more ago so he’s had time to work his way up to being a moderately powerful demon in his own right); he still tells this story to Crozier

Demon!Jopson immediately knows something is up with Hickey because he can sense how dark his soul is, he keeps an eye out from afar but doesn’t interfere because he figures it’s not really his business unless Crozier says something or if Hickey comes at Crozier

Maybe he senses Hickeys intentions or gets some kind of spiritual heads up, but Jopson follows the hunting party and keeps Hickey from killing Lt Irving (imagine Irving having to come to terms with the fact that a demon saved his life)

For big things like a rescue Jopson can’t make them happen instantly so he uses up a lot of his own power to keep the men healthy enough to keep going so he looks just as affected by scurvy and starvation as the rest of them (is he taking on the symptoms, does his deterioration just coincidently look similar, or do the men just assume he’s suffering the same illnesses as them because they don’t know differently)

And that’s really all it got for this idea!

Again if it already exists send me the link please

If you are inspired in anyway by this please feel free to write or draw or do whatever with it and then send me the links

#headcanon #fic outline #fanfic prompt?#terror amc #this could easily be a crozier/Jopson fic but I think you could also go gen with it #or you could do crozier/Fitzjames with Jopson supporting and doing little things to help without crozier asking/knowing #if you really want to have fun with Jopson being a demon thrown in a budding relationship with Little or someone else could be fun too #francis crozier #thomas jopson

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thefloatingwriter · 10 months

Text

underrated marauders era characters hcs <3

Emmeline Vance

ravenclaw

has long black hair and dark brown eyes

would do anything for her friends. literally anything.

half-blood

knew everything about everyone. if she wanted to know she did. no one knew how she did it

her best friends were pandora and marlene

blames herself for surviving the first war when marlene didn’t

^ the guilt only increased when pandora died

visits their graves on the 16th of every month and their birthdays and just talks

took divination (with pandora) and care of magical creatures as her electives

was a bridesmaid for both of their weddings (they were each other’s maid of honors)

loved apple pie and strawberries

she loved the color yellow

Edgar Bones

gryffindor

had red hair and gray eyes

his middle name was antonio after his late grandfather

half-blood

his wife tried hard to convince him not to join the Order but he was very persistent

same year as emmeline (1969 - 1976)

was almost put into hufflepuff

very stubborn

had a younger brother (two years younger) and an older sister (Amelia) who was one year older

almost joined the Quidditch team but decided against it at the last second

wears a lot of crimson

his wedding band is gold and he still grins at it every time he sees it on his finger

james thought him and frank were so cool when he was in first year and marlene found it hysterical (because they’re both complete idiots but so is james soooo)

his patronus is a lion

grinned like an idiot when he found out helen (his wife’s) patronus was a lioness

Helen Bones (née Burton)

hufflepuff

curly dirty blonde hair and green-light gray eyes

muggleborn

friends with basically everyone. loved by essentially the entire school

best friends with hestia jones

prefect

really good at playing the piano

fluent in german (her mum’s german) and understands french but can’t speak it fluently

she knows so much shit from all of the Black brother arguments that were in public spoken in french. emmeline tried to get her to say what they were arguing over but she wouldn’t budge.

sirius first went to her when he started having feelings for remus because she knew she wouldn’t judge him even if she was muggle born (i hc that the wizarding world is a lot more inclusive than the muggle world is but still doesn’t fully accept queer people. the pure bloods are the least acceptive)

good at transfiguration

knows a lot about everyone (similar to emmeline) but she refuses to gossip over it or tell anyone.

started dating edgar in her fourth year.

they were THE couple of their year. like there was dorlene and fralice but they were it. all of the younger students wanted to be one of them

mum friend of the hufflepuffs

Florence Wotton (girlfriend of the boy who hexed Bertha Jorkins after seeing them kissing behind the greenhouses)

hufflepuff

brunette that wears her hair in a ponytail and dark blue eyes

half-blood

she broke up with Stanley (the boy she was caught kissing) in the end of sixth year on good terms

they were friends up until stanley’s death during the second wizarding war

never married or had children

her middle name was augustine

she was best friends with jude williams, a muggle born slytherin, while at hogwarts

florence had to learn multiple defensive spells due to how many times jude was attacked by her own housemates

got the nickname flo by her friends when she made a joke about “going with the flow”

her best subject was potions

Ted Tonks

hufflepuff

had blonde hair and bright green eyes

the younger years loved him

prefect

had so many friendship bracelets, like they literally lined his arm. he refused to ever not wear one of them because “what if the person who gave it to me gets sad”

met andromeda in first year and fell for her hard in third. they started dating in fifth

his hogwarts years were from 1964 - 1971

he had two younger sisters, named ellen and isobel (yes this is based off a fanfic, go read Flights of Fancy)

many jumpers and sweaters. he has a vast collection of ugly christmas sweaters

quidditch commentator

liked by everyone except the pure bloods (what else is new)

andromeda slept in the hufflepuff common room for a lot of her later years at hogwarts. a lot of hufflepuffs grew to like her a lot and she started sleeping in the dormitory with the girls in her year occasionally

the hufflepuffs that knew about her and ted had this whole big oath thing where they swore they would keep their relationship secret

a lot of people actually knew about their relationship. it wasn’t really secret at all, the people that knew just weren’t anyone a pure blood would ever hang out with

good at herbology and transfiguration

#dayne talks #the marauders era #i might add to this later #emmeline vance #edgar bones #helen burton #yes i am making that a tag #florence wotton #ted tonks #tedromeda #dorlene #pandora rosier #marlene mckinnon #wolfstar

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give-soup-please · 2 years

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can you write something romantic about jealous narrator? like, what if you were talking to your friend and narrator didn’t like that

Jealous narrator

The narrator is an inherently jealous person, though he does his best to keep it clamped down, for your sake. But let's be real, the dude has zero understanding of what a healthy relationship looks like.

Remember how snippy he got about the bucket? There’s even a specific line of dialogue where he complains about how the bucket is interfering with his and Stanley’s relationship.

So yes, he has some jealous tendencies. At the forefront, he does his best to be suave and gentlemanly, because he recognizes that jealousy is not an attractive trait for most people. And surely, the better his behavior is, the more you’ll default to viewing him as an ally.

His words to your ears. Just the two of you.

But… Do you really have to spend so much time with this newest friend of yours? You’ve hung out with them for three days straight now. The narrator feels… Well, itchy might be the best way to describe it. Something isn’t right.

You’re paying way too much attention to your friend, and not nearly enough to him. He should be enough for you, shouldn’t he? Surely if he just… He would prove it. He would prove that he was the correct choice.

First things first, he’ll distract you. Any time the subject of your friend comes up in a conversation, he quickly changes the subject. If you’re going out to see them, he will pull out every technique he has to try and make you late.

“Reader, look at this latest script I’ve written, it’s incredible! My genius knows no bounds.” or, “Darling, you look ravishing today. Come here, I must show you how much you mean to me.”

If you’re not careful, he’ll keep you wrapped in a story or his arms and you’ll either be late or a no show. Your new friend isn’t impressed.

The narrator also has a special talent for guilt tripping, though he doesn’t use it often. He’ll mope, and say things like. “Have fun with your friend… I hope you don’t forget about me while you make new memories with them… I’ll just sit here, in the dark, waiting for you to come home…” and other such statements.

He turns petulant. “What is it that I’m doing wrong? We belong to each other, we don’t need anyone else!”

You’re going to want to confront him eventually. The narrator’s a stubborn bastard, and if you’re not careful, it’s a slippery slope to a very codependent relationship.

“You know, narrator,” You begin, after another one of his attempts to keep you separated from your friend, “I’m kind of upset. I thought you believed in our relationship a bit more than you actually do. You clearly don’t have confidence in what we’ve been building together. You seem to have lost faith in me, in my ability and want to return to you again and again. It really hurts.” Who says the narrator’s the only one capable of guilt tripping?

The narrator freezes. A hot lump of coal sits in his chest, something painful and burning. You were right, of course. Desperation pushes him forward. “I- Alright, my ability to handle the situation is… Not the best.” You raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “Just- I know I can be a bit much sometimes, but please, please don’t leave me. You’re all I have.”

Your heart softens towards the narrator. “I’m not planning on it. But you’ve got to get this under control. We both deserve a life outside of each other. I don’t really see you reaching out to meet new people, or develop relationships besides ours. This world is a beautiful, wonderful place, if you give it a chance. Why not branch out a little?”

The narrator really doesn’t want to. Your world is technically ‘open’, with no limitations on exploration, and no one there to wrap everything up. But he loves you so much, he’ll give it a try. Even though the thought of the two of you being separated gives him nausea.

You rub his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m not going anywhere. I will always return to you. I promise.”

#the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #tsp #answered ask #stanley parable #narrator #tsp narrator x reader

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ahszoebns · 10 months

Text

Jake’s Sister. Colby Brock (fluff)

“Colbyyyy" I say, exaggerating as I roll onto my back.

"This is so boring and I already know all of this stuff. Can we please take a break?"

Colby and I have been researching stuff about the Stanley Hotel for the past hour and a half. Even though I wasn’t gonna go, I wanted to keep him company and make sure that my brother Jake and his friends would be kinda safe.

Colby looks over at me with a deadpan look. "You haven’t lifted a finger since you got here, you just listened to what I was saying.'

I roll my eyes and groan dramatically. "Okay, so maybe I’ve just been listening to you, but I know enough that my brain is starting to fry. I say that calls for a much needed break."

Colby looks at me begrudgingly before he huffs out a loud sigh. "Fine, okay okay, let's take a break."

A proud smile adorns my face. I didn't think the stubborn Colby Brock would give up so easily. I roll back onto my side, facing Colby who sat up against the side of the wall his bed was pushed up against. I pushed the upper half of my body up so I was sitting normally now, as opposed to being sprawled across Colby's dark black pillows. I move to sit beside him, my positioning the exact same as his; both of our heads leaning against the cold wall.

We sit there in comfortable silence before I whisper.

"Thank you for putting up with me, it means a lot." I say while smiling softly, looking at the opposite wall of his room.

I close my eyes as I hear his head shift, turning to look at me. He whispers back.

"You know I love you. I'm always here for you, for anything." He says in the most genuine voice I have ever heard. I know he is giving a deeper meaning when saying the last part, and I know he is telling the truth when he says that. He would always be here for me, and I would always be there for him too. I just hope he knows that.

I can feel his gaze locked on my face. I look over to him, both of our heads remained in contact with the wall. His eyes roam my face. From my eyes, my eyebrows, my nose, my almost nonexistent freckles, to my lips. I feel the blush forcing itself past my ears and onto my cheeks. I do the same to Colby. Looking at his gorgeous, baby blue eyes, his eyebrows (which are one of my favorite features about him), his cheeks that have little moles, his adorable nose that is the cutest and finally his lips. The ones that I have been lucky enough to kiss countless times before. I looked up back to his eyes and before I had time to process it, his lips were on mine.

Several seconds later, we both pull away before opening our eyes and looking at each other intently

I lean forward, wanting his lips to be touching mine again. This feeling. It's one I could relish in forever.

After seconds, I pull away and softly kiss as many of his moles as I can. With these actions I earn little hums of pleasure coming from Colby’s lips, which only motivates me more. I move my left leg over to the other side of his lap, now straddling him. I hold onto each side of his face before pulling away and looking at him attentively. He looks at me similarly, his eyes sparkling in the light.

"I really, really like you." I whisper.

"I really, really like you too. Like, a lot." He whispers back, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.

My hands travel up to his hair and my nails, very gently, scratch along his scalp. His eyes close slowly and softly. I pulled lightly on the roots of his hair causing him to mutter three small words that hold the power to affect me significantly.

"Oh my god."

Once the words leave his mouth, my lips are smashing against his once again. Our lips move in sync as if we had done this a thousand times.

His hands are gently placed on the small of my back before I feel his hands slowly work their way down. He pauses at my hips, his fingers dipping under my shirt. The smooth pads of thumbs find a The smooth pads of thumbs find a simple rhythm, rubbing soft circles on my back. On the other hand, my hands pull onto his roots one last time before trailing down his torso, landing on his waist. I hear a low groan comes from Colby’s mouth. His lips trail down towards my neck, while his hands move towards the inside of my thighs.

His touch is electrifying and feels as if his fingers are leaving a trail of tingles as they move closer. My head rolls back in pleasure, giving him more access. My mouth parts slightly, letting out a small moan. When did Colby Brock learn how to do this? I shake the thoughts out of my head and redirect my eyes to look at him. The eye contact is intimidating but I can't help not looking away.

My own hands do their own exploring, finding their way to his belt. I look down and look up to Colby’s eye level again, silently asking if it's okay to go further. He nods his head before whispering a small "yes"

I nod my head with a small smile on my face before carrying on with my previous actions. I start to undo his belt and just as I am about to, the door swings open.

Colby and I stop and whip our heads to the doorway, snatching our hands off and away from each other.

"Jake! What the hell, man? There's a very obvious reason why the door is closed." I scold Jake while giving him a very harsh death glare. It didn't surprise me that Jake was randomly at Colby’s house, this always happened.

"Hmm I don't know. Maybe you should've thought about that before doing it.” He returns the glare while looking at both of us. My legs are still on each side of Colby before I come up with a quick retort.

"Oh please Jake, like I haven't heard you and Tara before. I may not be near your room but you guys are really loud sometimes. Just think of all the times I could've barged in to stop you guys, but I didn't." I smirked at Jake, who continued to stand at the door, dumbfounded. I roll my eyes and laugh lightly.

"O- okay. But.. tha- that's different!"

"Goodbye Mr. Webber." I wave. He huffs out a breath, loudly as he closes the door and leaves.

I turn back to look at Colby. His smile is wider than ever as he looks into my eyes.

"You know, you're pretty amazing." He praises.

"Thank you, I think I'm pretty amazing too." I sarcastically reply with a goofy smile on my face.

Colby rolls his eyes before kissing me quickly.

"Now.. where were we?"

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