#feel like the social anxiety gets worse and worse the closer i get to people and the more people i meet

[humbleanger]

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#feel like the social anxiety gets worse and worse the closer i get to people and the more people i meet #bc now it feels like i actually have something to lose when i act weird #and all day i keep thinking about things that could have been weird or that i might have insulted a friend with even though they did not #say or hint at that #and i get knee jerk reactions where i just say to myself /i'm so awkward i hate myself i need to die/ just bc i said the most normal thing #this happens several times a day #ughhh #journal eb

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FOUR

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 5

It was mission day.

Training over the last two weeks had been exhausting, but the payoff was right around the corner.

The mission was simple – get in, get the hostages, get out.

Fender had been given intel of another AQ human trafficking den on the border of Serbia, and it was KorTac’s job to get them out and get them to safety.

Simple enough, and something this task force has done a hundred times over. That didn’t stop the nerves from creeping up from within you, though. it didn't feel right, being on a mission without the 141, without your family.

How much could you truly trust the people around you?

Now you sat, clutching your rifle to your chest, surrounded by the rest of the team; all of you clad in the best tactical gear that Laswell had to offer.

You scanned the room, desperate for a glimpse of the giant man that had clouded both your heart and your brain, frowning when you came up empty.

Kӧnig had been…odd to deal with.

But you were quick to learn that that was just him. He was sweet, quiet, kind, thoughtful, fidgety. It made you like him all the more, and you were so incredibly bad at hiding it. Ghost almost had a heart attack when you admitted about your little crush, the man had to be held back by Soap, Gaz, and Price to stop him ‘coming down there to get you and shoot him’.

And people said Price was the father of the group!

After spending three hours convincing Ghost you were just fine, Kӧnig had knocked your door, ready for his next lesson. You’d made an agreement – he opened up to you, working on his issues with social interaction, and you would teach him to be a better sniper.

It worked, you thought, and you were finally breaking down some of his walls.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so quiet and closed off?” You asked tentatively, putting your rifle back into its protective carrier.

“Was, how you say, bullied? As a child, I was always big, and the other children made many comments and hurt me.”

Your heart hurt hearing him say this. You were no stranger to bullies, having been picked on your entire childhood also.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“You do?” he said, voice surprised.

You smiled softly, “Yeah. Kids aren’t nice. Adults are even worse. Still happens every now and then, people underestimating me or thinking I don’t deserve to be here.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is. I can understand why you wear the hood all the time, keeps people away from something else they can use.”

“Ja.”

“I sometimes wish I had something, but Ghost always told me not to go down that road. He says it’s a hard one to come back from.”

“It is true. It’s scary, revealing yourself.”

“I’m sure it is, but it’s scary wanting to cover up, too.”

“Why would you want to?”

You frowned, looking away from him as you continued to pack your things, “Because I don’t like the way I look. Sometimes, I wish people couldn’t see me.”

He looked at you, dumbfounded, “Aber du bist so hübsch. (But you’re so pretty.)”

“What?”

He blushed, looking at his shoes, “Oh, um, you are just kind. I am sad for you.”

“I’m sad for you too, Kӧnig.” You smiled, “But it’s alright. Those people mean nothing now. I used their hate to help my anxiety, and now I’m here to help you improve yours.”

“(Y/N), I think you are helping.”

“Yeah? I think so too.”

He stepped a little closer to you, his movements stopping you in your tracks.

“Ich habe noch nie ein so schӧnes gesicht gesehen, Schatz. (I have never seen such a beautiful face, sweetheart.)” He whispered, his fingers barely touching your chin as he tipped it, making you look up at him.

Your breath was caught in your throat, heat rising to your cheeks as you melted into his touch. You reached up, your hand cupping his as it moved to your cheek.

Your heart thudded in your chest as he stepped closer to you, the other hand slipping around to rest on your waist.

Before you knew it, your body was pressed against his, the two of you searching each other’s eyes for any sign to stop.

There was none, but as soon as your fingers grazed the bottom of that damned hood, moving to lift it away, the familiar jingle of the ringtone set for Price echoed around the walls.

You fumbled, stepping back from the giant, “F-fuck…I- sorry, it’s Price I-I have to take it.”

Kӧnig released a long breath as you moved away from him, whispering to himself, “Oh, mein gott. (Oh, my God.)”

He barely paid notice to you speaking with your Captain, until something you said caught his attention, making his heart shatter.

“Yes, Price,” you laughed, “As soon as the job is done, I’ll be on my merry way.”

You were leaving?

“Yeah!” you spoke again, turning to smile at him briefly, “He’s doing well, I think he’ll be fine here. No- Captain, listen…you know what Ghost is like! It’s just a job, right? So, when I’m done, I’ll be back, promise.”

What?

‘It’? Were you talking about him like that?

Did you really think of him as nothing but a mission, something for you to fix and then leave behind once the work was done?

“I’m just a job?” he said, voice small as he watched you put your phone down.

You stood confused for a moment, until you looked back at your phone, reliving the conversation with Price.

“N-no, Kӧnig, t-that’s not what I meant by that-”

“I’m just another task for you to complete before you go leaving to your elite task force, ja?”

His voice raised with every word as he angrily collected his own things. Hurt seeped from him, and you could understand exactly why.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you pleaded, “Yes, I was brought here to do a job, but you are not just a job to me. You’re a human being!”

“A human being you were brought here to babysit.”

“Yes! I was! But that wasn’t my fault! I didn’t fucking want to!”

Your frustration got the better of you, and you snapped. No, you didn’t want to be someone’s babysitter. You were an SAS-trained sniper, for crying out loud. But you’d seen someone in need and stayed.

And you were so glad you did.

But he didn’t see it that way, who could blame him?

“Okay, sergeant. Danke for the lesson.” He said, and he nodded to you, turning towards the exit.

“Kӧnig, please- don’t leave, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-”

He ignored you, shaking his head as he flung the door open, the noise echoing around the shooting range. You winced, tears welling in your eyes as you watched his hulking form stalk away from you.

That’s the last he spoke to you.

It was the last you’d even seen him.

For three days.

He didn’t come to the shooting range, he hadn’t been showing up for training, and he hadn’t been eating from the canteen.

You never meant to hurt him or pry too far, but it was why you were here. To help him understand about teamwork and morale, to help him understand that not every person was out to get him. But you never meant to make him feel like he was just a job, just another assignment.

In a last ditch effort, you scanned the room again, and your heart skipped a beat as blue eyes pierced yours.

He was leaning against the concrete pillar on his left, arms crossed over his vest, hip stuck out as one of his feet rested in front of the other. Your eyes examined his frame, subconsciously licking your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked even bigger with all the gear on…even better.

Kӧnig blushed furiously under your gaze, flustered as he tore his eyes away from you to look back at his superior, who’s voice was booming around the room.

“Karma!” his voice made you jump, head snapping forward, “You will be taking primary overwatch. The snipers are to follow your command.”

“Yes, sir.” You answered.

Fuck.

“Now, the mission is simple. We will take the trucks down through the mountain pass, and there is a guard under our pay to let us pass without issue on the border. Roze.” Fender spoke, passing the baton to his second in command.

“From there, Contact Team 1 will press west, taking the building from behind. Contact Team 2 will follow after breach, collecting the hostages and running them to the van that is waiting. I will be driving that.”

“The Sniper team will head east, setting up overwatch to take out any stragglers that push through from the breach, am I clear?” Fender finished.

Several voices answered in unison, nods and encouraging looks thrown around the room between comrades.

You only squeezed your gun tighter, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips.

KorTac was so different to 141.

The journey to missions would be silent, all of you quiet from the weight of what you were about to endure.

But not here.

People were chatting away, making jokes, making plans for the evening as if they were so certain they’d even make it home. It completely terrified you. The only thing keeping you alive was the promise you made to get back to your boys.

No wonder Kӧnig hated it here…so did you.

Somehow, the journey felt like it took forever, but no time at all at the same time. Something wasn’t right, you could feel it deep within you. Even the encouraging texts from the 141 group chat weren’t helping, despite Soap insisting that his flurry of memes was appropriate.

It wasn’t long until you were in position, the front of your body damp from the moisture in the grass surrounding you.

“Karma to Actual, Sniper team in position, waiting on count.” You spoke quietly, nodding to your team to settle.

“Copy that, Karma. Contact Team 1 is on route for your position.” Fender replied.

As soon as he said that, the sound of combat boots connecting with the ground flooded the air around you, legs wading past with guns held high on the target. Your heart skipped as you caught a flash of red and white stripes as Kӧnig moved past you.

He moved swiftly and silently, completely in his element.

Now was the time you’d see him in action; you’d see the crazy that everyone warned you about.

“In position, sir.” He spoke, his accent thick as he whispered into his comms, taking up position in front of the doors.

Moving the scope to settle on him, you peeked through, gasping as you saw he had no weapon at all on him. It was just him and his fists.

They genuinely did just use him as a human battering ram.

“On your count then, soldier.”

You watched him as he took a final breath before his voice flowed in your ear, “Eins…zwei…drei…

Einsetzen! (one…two…three…engage!)”

On cue, the splintering of wood echoed around the trees, and the popping of gunfire and the screams of women followed.

“Okay everyone, on your mark! Let’s clear the way.” You commanded.

One by one, you shot your rifle with ample precision, taking out the AQ soldiers that tried to escape the hands of Kӧnig, and the rest of Contact Team 1.

“This why they call you Karma?” Calisto’s voice sounded.

You let out a laugh, “Indeed it is.”

“Badass!”

As yours and König’s team cleaned out the AQ, contact team 2 made their way in to collect the hostages. That’s when you got the ‘all clear’ to move in, offering any aid needed to the poor victims.

You moved quickly, throwing your rifle over your shoulder as you stumbled down the hill towards the building, your team following swiftly behind you. The doors swung open, and a crowd of dirty and frightened women poured out, Roze pulling up with the van and ushering them in.

It was seemingly over, and you threw a small smile to Kӧnig as he helped one of the smaller girls out of the building. He looked back at you, holding your gaze for a moment, until screams and cries and yells of commands tore your attention away.

Running towards the group with a fully loaded semi-auto was a straggler, the last AQ soldier that had apparently been missed, and he was headed right for Kӧnig and the little girl.

You tossed your gun aside, not even taking a second to think, and ran as fast as your legs would take you towards them.

You ignored every order to stand down, every yell from Fender to fall back.

But no one was as quick as you to react.

You reached them just as the bullets started spraying, the force in which you banged into Kӧnig knocking him to the floor as you scooped the girl in your arms to shield her.

Somehow, you’d managed to save them both from the oncoming assault, but your complete disregard for your own life came to bite back at you as you screamed, a searing, burning pain shooting through your thigh as a bullet struck you.

Roze yelled, reaching for the child as you tossed her forward, falling to the ground when another bullet shot into your back.

Your vest protected you from deadly harm, but the force of the impact had you fall to your knees, landing on your front in a daze.

The rest of the team didn’t even get a chance to unload their own weapons into the enemy, as Kӧnig shot up, tears pricking his eyes as he ran at the soldier, tossing him into the air and bringing him back down over his bent knee.

A sickening crack of bones echoed through the valley, until silence fell, and the only sound was your laboured whimpering in the grass.

Until that wasn’t heard either.

Your body went limp.

And your vision faded to black.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost fanart #call of duty #cod mw oc #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #callofduty #gaming #cod mw19 #captain price #john mactavish #phillip graves #ghost x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #cod konig #konig modern warfare

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

Gojo was panicking. That was obvious. Why? He couldn't find his girlfriend, you. And to make it worse, you were the most naive, oblivious, adorable woman he has ever met.

It was supposed to be an easy trip to the mall. Get in, walk around and get food at the food court, and get out. And Gojo could have sworn he was holding your hand, so how the fuck did you just up and disappear? Gojo knew you didn't like crowds. You tried your hardest to stay away from people in general. It's not that you were an introvert. You adored talking and laughing with people, but you had major social anxiety.

This fact alone made Gojo overprotective of you when you both went out together. Is someone standing too close? Gojo steps right between them and you as he slides his hand around your waist. Are you feeling overwhelmed by all the noise? Gojo is leaning down to whisper jokes about people as they walk by. He relishes in your laughter.

So yes, Gojo is overprotective. And he is currently freaking the fuck out.

Where is his girl?

Finally, Gojo spots a familiar head of h/c bedhead in a nearby pet store. He rushes into the store and sighs in releif when he sees you looking at the collars. Gojo takes a moment to calm his breathing before he approaches you with his normal cheeky smile, successfully hiding his shaky hands in the process.

"Hey, kitten~" Gojo draws out. "You left me behind to look at dog collars?" He playfully pouts as he glances to the collars. Your face quickly flushes, and your hands fly to subtly hide something behind your back. Gojos eyebrow raises in suspicion. "What do we have here?" He chuckles.

"Satoru.." You timidly mumble as he attempts to sneak a peak at the object in your hold. Gojo shakes his head with a grin before quickly reaching his hand out to grab your arm and pull you closer. You yelp as he draws your chest to meet with him. It's too late when you realize he actually got ahold of your item.

Gojo grins from ear to ear when he sees that he's holding an f/c collar that says "Kitten" inscribed into it. "Awe, baby." Gojo juts out his lip and holds up the collar for you both to see better. Your cheeks erupt in a deep red as you hide your face into his chest. "What wrong?" Gojo snickers.

He quickly dropped the teasing when he realized how embarrassed you truly were. You were starting to shake, and he guessed that you were tearing up. "What's wrong?" Gojo gently asked you, breath hitting your ear. "It's embarrassing.." You sniffed into his shirt. Gojos' usual teasing and confident face turned soft and genuine. "There's nothing wrong with liking this collar." He reassures.

You only shake your head and hiccup as tears soak his shirt. "Please don't think it's weird.. please don't leave. I'm sorry.." You rambled. Gojos eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned back a little so he could cup your face and pull you closer. "I would never leave you for something like this." His serious tone didn't waver, nor did the look of love in his eyes. Your lip trembled as you observed his face. "You promise?" Your tone voice pleaded.

Gojo smiled and kissed your forhead. "I promise, darling." He whispered against your skin. Gojo pulls out his phone a few minutes later. "I probably shouldn't buy it for you, though.." He mumbles to "himself. " Your eyes went slightly, and you nervously fiddled your fingers. "Why?" Gojo didn't respond for a few moments. "Mm.. there's too many guys here. There would be too many of them starting at you, I don'tlike it." He says. His smile suddenly returns as he presses something on his phone.

You peek over the top of his phone and gulp nervously when you see Gojo on Amazon. That can't possibly mean anything good.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

[darylsdelts]

Disclaimer!: I am not a writer😭 I just wanna say stuff that I think about Daryl cuz it’s fun and he’s all I think about so that’s what this is.

I really believe that Daryl has anxiety. Like, it was super bad when he was a little kid, feeling like he could throw up or pass out any time he was in a social situation, it was more visible as a child with wobbly legs and shaky hands. Merle would just call him a pussy and tell him to grow up so over the years he learnt how to deal with it better, making it completely invisible to anyone else.

Once the apocalypse started it was kind of a blessing in disguise, it was just Daryl and his big brother so he pretty much forgot he even had anxiety. It wasn’t so bad at the quarry and the farm because he kept his distance. He’d go off on carol when she got too close because he got comfortable being alone and when others would invade his space he'd feel the old spike of nausea that reminds him who he really is, a coward like his brother told him.

during the time at the prison, he got closer to the group, in proximity and friendship wise. there wasn't much choice but he eased himself into talking to rick more instead of just taking orders without another word. He got closest to carol because somehow she seemed to understand him and she knew not to push and to give him space.

when merle returned, so did the old daryl, becoming more hostile and like a little puppy who does what merle says but he came to his senses eventually.

after getting stuck with Beth after the fall of the prison he came to realise that not everyone thinks hes some freak of nature. people can be good, some people are just good, beth was good, beth made daryl feel like he could be good, maybe he was good already.

beth dying set daryl back. whats the point of letting anyone get close if they die anyways? he still had carol though and she understood him.

arriving at alexandria, carol changed, shes smart. Daryl didnt change, the fact he was in a community with people playing happy families, which he never had, was a big enough change for him. This is when he’s oh so kindly reminded that hes still that little boy from the beginning. not having to deal with his anxious habits for such a long time has meant that he’d forgotten how. the amount of people trying to make him feel welcome and the way he felt trapped was too much to handle for him, he’d prefer to be out there.

he’s grateful for aaron, aaron NEEDS daryl to be out there. Daryl is not useless.

however, there are still plenty of times where he feels like he is. when occasional meetings are held, there have been many times where daryl has had to subtly leave, feeling the pit in his stomach grow too powerful, feeling like he could throw up from how anxious he is, he knows that that’s the telltale sign of his body about to have a panic attack and he’d rather die than be seen trying to manage that. sometimes he’d try to stay and get through it but carol notices the deep breaths he takes to try to calm himself and the way his fingernails have gone purple. it makes it so much worse when someone notices.

He knows it’s strange that he feels more at peace when killing walkers and spending time in the forest rather than being in a safe home with a warm bed but, he’s not used to that, he never had that and he doesn’t feel like he deserves it but he does, he’s been deserving of it way before the outbreak.

——————————————————————————

I might write a lil Drabble thing where the reader gets to know daryl and his nervous habits and they help him??

#daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd smut

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 01: Stranger, Danger

chapter synopsis: You're stuck in a really long traffic jam with lots of noise and darkness. The car is your temporary safe spot where you're dealing with recent bad stuff, especially the news that your brother, Rick, might not be alive. As you talk to strangers and learn tough things, everything gets worse, and the city suddenly explodes, leaving you alone in a completely different world.

chapter warnings: violence and chaos, graphic descriptions, loss and grief, isolation and social anxiety, misunderstandings and awkward interactions, bombings, shane walsh.

word count: 2.1k words

author's note: Here's the first chapter. Although it's already published on Wattpad, it took me an hour to make all the changes for this version. On Wattpad, it's written in the third person, but for Tumblr, I changed it to the second person, which was a bit challenging. Anyway, Happy New Year!

MASTERLIST

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Stuck in what felt like an endless traffic jam, the encroaching darkness only seemed to magnify the chaos swirling outside their car's windows. It was a disheartening sight - people arguing, yelling, crying, and a haphazard assembly of folks grabbing quick bites to eat. The claustrophobic environment was nothing short of uncomfortable for you. Large crowds had never been your cup of tea, and trust was a rare commodity reserved solely for your closest kin - her nephew Carl, your sister-in-law Lori, your brother's friend Shane, and, of course, your brother Rick, whom Shane had grimly suggested might no longer be counted among the living.

As you sat in the backseat, the vehicle a temporary refuge from the pandemonium outside, Lori, Shane, and your young nephew Carl engaged with the world beyond. Young Carl was engrossed in a board game with another child, a girl named Sophia, whose name you caught in passing. Nearby, Lori chatted with Sophia's mother, a friendly woman with cropped grey hair. You, however, were an island within the car, your apprehension keeping you from engaging with those around you. Vivid and horrifying images from a few hours earlier still loomed large in your mind -- your neighbors, once familiar faces, had been ruthlessly torn apart by the ravenous undead, and the sight of a mother attacking her own child had left an indelible mark.

The traumatic experiences had taken a heavy toll, and when Shane somberly shared the news that Rick had not survived the chaos at the overrun hospital, you found yourself unable to contain your grief. Your tears flowed unchecked.

Seated in the car, the window slightly ajar to allow a breath of fresh air, you remained silent, clutching your small sketchbook as though it were a lifeline in this turmoil. Your stomach occasionally grumbled with hunger, but you paid it little heed, knowing full well that everyone in their dire circumstances faced the same pangs of hunger.

Shane peered at you with a quiet empathy, recognizing the weight of your distress. He gently suggested, "You know, it might do ya some good to step outside for a bit. Get some fresh air. Clear your head." He gestured towards the open car window, where a faint breeze teased the edges of your sketchbook. "You don't gotta stay cooped up in here. Take a moment for yourself if ya need it, now."

You simply shook your head, your eyes remaining fixed on your sketchbook. You had never really taken to Shane. Sometimes, he just gave you the creeps, particularly when he got a little too close to Lori. It was an uneasy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Lori appeared behind Shane, crouching down to peer through the car's window. Lori's voice was filled with genuine concern as she leaned closer to you. "Hey, it's sweltering in here. Would you mind stepping outside for a bit? Keep an eye on Carl, okay? Shane and I are going to see if there's another way out of this mess." Her motherly smile remained, reassuring you as she spoke.

You nodded in agreement and stepped out of the car. You noticed the subtle frown on Shane's face, likely interpreting your actions as an example of your stubbornness, a trait you had displayed on numerous occasions.

After Shane and Lori departed, you hesitantly made your way toward where Carl and the young girl named Sophia were engrossed in their board game. Carl glanced up, offering you a tired but affectionate smile before returning to his match with Sophia, who greeted you with a shy smile. You placed a comforting hand on Carl's shoulder and observed their chessboard, which seemed to suggest that Sophia would emerge as the victor. In your peripheral vision, you noticed the middle-aged woman with short grey hair, Sophia's mother, slowly making her way over. Your inner plea for a conversation to be avoided echoed loudly in your mind.

Please, not another conversation with a stranger.

Oh, God.

Standing beside you, Sophia's mother introduced herself with a shy smile as Carol. Her eyes held a hint of curiosity as she extended her hand in a gesture of friendship. "Hi, I'm Carol," she said, her voice tinged with sincerity.

Carol's friendly gesture met an unexpectedly muted response from you, who refrained from extending a hand for a handshake. The slight pause hung in the air, and after it became clear that you had no intention of reciprocating the handshake, Carol gently withdrew her hand, a hint of awkwardness coloring the moment.

You, who had been grappling with the weight of recent events and the horrors you had witnessed, couldn't help but feel a touch awkward in this interaction. Your response was somewhat halting, and your eyes briefly met Carol's before looking away.

"Y/N Grimes," you said, the words escaping your lips softly, as if you weren't entirely sure how to navigate this unexpected social encounter.

Clearing her throat to break the somewhat awkward silence, Carol ventured a question. "Are you Carl's older sister?" she inquired, her tone kind and inquisitive. "And do you know where your mom went with Shane?"

You, finding yourself caught in an unfamiliar social exchange, responded with a touch of awkwardness. "Lori isn't my mother," you began, your words hesitant. "She's my sister-in-law, and Carl is my nephew."

Realizing her assumption had been off the mark, Carol's expression softened with understanding. "I'm sorry," she said gently, a note of apology in her voice. "You just seemed... well, you look so young, I thought maybe you were Carl's older sister and Lori was your mother. I didn't mean to presume."

Your usual shyness accentuated by the circumstances, managed a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay," you responded softly. "A lot of people have thought the same thing about me." Your awkwardness seemed to soften with a hint of understanding, as if you were accustomed to these types of misunderstandings. Which, in fact, you were.

Suddenly, your ears perked up when you heard the sound of helicopters. You swiftly told Carl to stay where he was, within sight of Carol, and then asked Carol, "Hey, could you watch over Carl for a minute?"

Carl shook his head at you, "No. I wanna go with you!"

You considered for a moment before shaking your head. "No, Carl, it's safer here. Just stay put for a minute." You then looked at Carol, "Carol?"

Carol agreed, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she replied, "Of course, I'll keep an eye on him."

You nodded in appreciation, then ventured into the woods where you could see the darkened city of Atlanta. As you gazed at the skyline, you couldn't help but notice that some of the taller buildings were illuminated with eerie, flickering lights. You couldn't shake the grim realization that those buildings, bathed in light, had likely been overrun, and the city now belonged to the dead, the undead monsters.

Then, the helicopters returned, and to your shock, they dropped a devastating payload. A series of deafening explosions sent shockwaves through the air, as fire and smoke erupted in an apocalyptic display of red and orange, transforming the once-familiar city into a nightmarish inferno. The horrifying scene left you, in yoursolitude, in stunned silence, your world forever altered by the devastation unfolding before you.

As the helicopters dropped bombs on the city of Atlanta, the earth-shattering explosions and fiery chaos unfolding in the distance, you stood alone in the woods, your heart heavy with a sorrow that had been lingering for far too long. The reality you had been reluctant to accept came crashing down upon you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and the weight of grief overwhelmed you as you finally acknowledged what you had been trying to deny.

Your brother, Rick, whom you hadn't seen die with your own eyes, whose absence had filled you with hope that he might still be out there somewhere, was now gone. The hospital overrun by the undead, as Shane had told them, had sealed Rick's fate, and the detonation of those bombs had obliterated any last vestiges of that hope. Rick was dead, and the tears that streamed down on your face were a painful, final acknowledgment of that irrevocable loss.

As you stood there in the woods, tears streaming down your face, your thoughts inevitably turned to your brother, Rick. Your memories painted vivid scenes of your last moments together, the disagreements fueled by your stubbornness that still lingered in your mind. But it was the distant past, back when your parents had passed away, that truly weighed on you.

Rick had immediately assumed the role of a parent for you, becoming not just a brother, but a father figure and your closest friend. The nurturing, protective instincts he had exhibited since both of your parents' death were etched into your memory. Rick had been your steadfast anchor, your guiding light in a world that had grown increasingly dark.

And now, in the aftermath of the bombings in Atlanta, you were forced to confront the crushing reality that he was gone. The grief was unbearable, for you knew that your brother, your father figure, your best friend was no more, lost forever in the turmoil of the world's collapse.

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #rick grimes #norman reedus #twd fic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

[deth-of-a-junkie]

i have a lot of postal dude headcanons, so ive split them up.

so heres my postal 1 dude headcanons

p1 dude has a special interest on the jets and weaponry used in ww2 and the vietnam war, but also the U.S military as a whole. he specifically likes to collect vintage U.S military memorabilia and propaganda. he can go on for hours about the faults of the government and government greed and corruption, he hates the system. he also knows a lot about JFK assassination theories and will go on for hours about them.

oh yeah. postal 1 dude is autistic.

he also has a spin on guns. he knows them all by name and loves to learn about different manufacturers and how each one are built. he knows how to deconstruct them and put them back together. he even has some guns he's made himself. legal? probably not. he doesnt care.

p1 dude also prefers reading in books for information instead of searching the web for them, so amongst the mess of his house is just piles upon piles of books.

p1 dude also is great at poetry. he loves writing too, which is why i think he started his diaries.

he also loves drawing! he loves going out and drawing scenery the most, he also likes drawing nude figures. he finds the human body to be interesting.

p1 dude is religious. im divided on if i see him as someone whos spiritually aligned closer to catholics (though i wouldnt call him a straight up catholic, he doesn't like the church.) or pagen.

talking about pagen dude, correct me if im wrong, i dont know much about pagenism (but ive been trying to learn more as of recent), but he specifically worships greek gods. out of the gods, his favorite is ares.

he hangs around poostall dude a lot. they arent really friends, they're kinda opposites of each other, but poostall looks up to him as a mentor in philosophy among other things.

he used to be active in his local punk scene when he was younger. he has a lot of cds and tapes of obscure bands that almost no one has heard of.

he loves metal more then anything though, and he also has a large collection of horror films (all on vhs, a few of dvd. he doesnt have his dvd player plugged in so he only uses it if he has too. also refused to buy blueray. if its the only option he burns it onto a disk himself.).

his favorite genres of metal are melodic death metal and prog metal. i would also say dsbm but i feel like thats too corny. he loves opeth. also death.

he's non-speaking most of the time by choice. the older he's gotten the more he started to isolate himself, and he usually chooses to ignore people when theyre talking and not respond at all, mainly just people who ask for directions and stuff on the street he'll just ignore. he just doesnt feel the need too, he likes to stay invisible.

talking about that, he hates leaving his house. it used to be because of anxiety but it slowly became due to his other mental health issues getting worse, especially his fear of everyone being out to get him/everyone else being demons/whatever your interpretation of his reasonings behind postal 1 is.

3 in one shampoo. also uses hand soap to shave instead of shaving cream. also uses hand soap to wash his face...

he needs glasses. his sunglasses also has his normal prescription lenses in them, his eyes are sensitive to light so he chose to make them sunglasses too (i believe this is possible. if its not, well it is now). he also has a 2nd pair that are just normal glasses, he uses them only to read or when he's walking around his house at night. (this is totally not me self reflecting with the realization that i just found out i need glasses..../s)

I DONT KNOW HOW I FORGOT TO MENTION but also has a special interest on nuclear disasters, nuclear power plants, and radiation. theyre not separate theyre all apart of one fixation that branches off the core idea of nuclear power. like he cant have one without the other. if that makes sense.

also uses he/they. he doesnt out right say it, he doesnt use social media so its not like, in a bio or anything. he just naturally picked it up. will also accept she being used to refer to himself, but is not something he states publicly or asks people to do. he was surrounded by the queer community growing up as most of his highschool friends were apart of the community so he just one day realized he wasnt opposed to it being used in reference to himself.

he is an ASSHOLE. he used to be more considerate in his youth but the older he got the grumpier he got. he is SCARY when he insults someone. like he will have an entire ass speech of him just degrading someone until they literally have nothing left to say for themselves.

doesnt get angry though. he's calm when hes upset and frustrated, or will straight up just make fun of and make harsh jokes about the situation (i mean that like. if he gets into a disagreement with someone on the street he will laugh at them and mock them by teasing them. thats what i mean.)

#sorry i love p1 dude so much. like so much. #i think about him way too much. #im so not normal about him #please correct any incorrect info in here crying emoji #postal #postal dude #postal headcanons #postal dude headcanons #postal 1 #rws #running with scissors #p1 dude #postal 1 dude

[ad0rechuu]

★ MILKY WAY. ━━ (025) kang pompompurin

WORD COUNT. 1384

WARNINGS. hate comments and hints at anxiety

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

YOU JUST DECIDED THAT THIS WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED ROCK PAPER SCISSORS WITH YOUR MEMBERS.

You scan your surroundings carefully, eyes moving from the paper in your hand to the sign plastered on the building in front of you. It’s exactly the same as the one that Seulgi had shown you before you left.

‘Hanuelsan.’

You adjust your headphones and step inside without much thought, repeating the words you had to say to the cashier in your head.

As you joined the short queue, you finally look around. It isn't busy inside the small cafe as it's close to dinner time. The day was coming to an end for most. But for people like you, it had only just begun. You were kind of grateful that you had to wear a mask and disguise in public; the dark circles underneath your eyes aren't the most appealing to your fans.

Before you know it, it's your turn in line. You lower the volume on your headphones and make eye contact with a girl. She regards you politely, greeting you with a pretty smile.

“Hello, I’m here to pick up an order for.. Kang Pompompurin—?!” You pause abruptly and try to regain your composure. But your voice only gets quieter the more you spoke as the embarrassment settles in. “..Yes. I’m here to pick up an order placed by, uhm.. Kang Pompompurin.”

Out of all the names to choose, she just had to use the one of her favorite Sanrio character.

If the cashier feels your embarrassment, she does a good job at hiding it. She nods and checks something on the cash register in front of her.

“Your order will be ready shortly. Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

You thank her and walk to a seat in front of the window, closest to the register. It's peaceful, a feeling you aren’t really used to.

Opening your phone you look trough social media. Specifically, the comments underneath your and Fatou’s new cover.

There are so many encouraging ones from people that support you and STAR, but the ones that stand out to you the most are the rude ones— the comments that tell you how bad you are at everything and that you should just quit or worse.

What if they are right? What if you really make your members and everyone else you associate with look bad? What if you are really that horrible to hear and look at? What if all those shooting stars only like you out of pity? What if—

“Order for Kang Pompompurin?” An employee calls out.

The sound of his voice interrupts the black hole your own thoughts dragged you into. You quickly stand up and make your way to the counter.

You nod along as he reads up your order, before noting the soft, mischievous sound of it with a small smile.

As he asks if the order is correct, you finally make eye contact. The confirmation in the back of your throat dies when you find yourself greeted by a familiar face.

The sharp eyes, well-shaped nose, and wide shoulders make him look like some sort of hidden Greek— well, Korean god. But the soft dimple and freckles lining his neck make him look so damn adorable. It’s a sight you’ve only ever seen in pictures before.

“San?”

His eyes widen at his name being called. You remove your headphones and pull the hood of your jacket down, as well as your mask.

Shock doesn’t leave his features but a childlike excitement joins when he gets a good look at your face. But it quickly gets replaced by concern as he reaches for your wrist over the counter, eyes darting around frantically. He pulls you closer and uses both of his hands to pull your hood back over your head. His movements are delicate, like you’re the most fragile thing on this earth.

A slightly red hue covers his cheeks when he realizes what he just did. He clears his throat and hands you your bag.

“S-So you were Kang Pompompurin. I was wondering why it sounded so familiar.”

You let out an angelic laugh that has the boy in front of you in a trance. “Seulgi ordered it. But I’m so surprised to see you here, dude.”

“Yeah, me too. I work here, my parents own this place.” He gestures to the whole cafe, which made you look around with much interest. He then points towards the pretty cashier from earlier, now busy in conversation with one of the other customers. “And that’s my sister.”

Your gaze finds its way back to San, your mouth slightly agape. “That’s so cool! I had no idea.”

He brings a hand to his nape, seemingly deep in thought. “You were actually my last customer for today. I-If you have time, would you consider having some coffee or boba or whatever you like with me maybe?

“It’s on the house of course!” He adds.

“You don’t have to do that, but yeah I’d love to.”

AFTER NOTIFYING YOUR members that you would be late, you two sit down at your previous spot in front of the window.

Time with San goes fast. He's exactly like you expected. Maybe a little shy but still really fun to talk to. It actually makes you sad that you hadn’t met him earlier in your life.

“And I loved your cover with Fatou, did you guys film it yourself?” He asks.

You nod. It feels weird having his full attention on you. You were used to being the most controversial member and people are usually more interested in what your members were up to rather than your words. Not that you mind, but it doesn't feel that way with San. He asks you questions and listens to your answers in rapt attention.

It feels… nice?

“Yeah, we did. You would be surprised how many times I embarrassed myself in public for my parts.” You reply, earning a laugh from him as you sip your drink of choice (which he refused to let you pay for).

You absentmindedly look at the big clock hanging on one of the walls. Your eyes widen as you catch a glimpse of the time. You're nearly late for evening practice.

San notices your bittersweet expression when you faced him, making his heart speed up a bit.

“I think I should go, I’m late for practice and the managers will be on my ass if they find out that I’m out alone when it’s nearly dark.”

The way he looks up at you as you stood made your heart hurt. The boy looks something like a kicked puppy (or kitty rather). Nonetheless, he nods and stands along with you.

“Would you like me to walk you back?”

“What way are you going?”

He points to the opposite direction of the way back to the company in response.

“No, thank you. I have to go the opposite way.”

You chuckle as he pouts at you. This guy truly doesn't know how much just talking to him made your day.

You take a step closer to the boy. “Can I give you a hug before I leave?” You ask, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.

San nearly chokes on air, but as nods frantically, like the moment was going to fade if he doesn't answer quick enough.

“Y-yes! Yeah, sure.” He awkwardly laughs.

You waste no time and move to embrace him. All the while, he timidly put his arms above your waist with a weak grip. You feel the warmth of his cheeks with the proximity in which you two stand by each other.

It lasts maybe less than 10 seconds, but San could barely contain his happiness, even as you two separated.

You grab your bag, leaving the flustered boy standing there. When you reach the door, you turn around one more time to wave and flash a hidden smile at him.

“It was really nice to have finally met you, San! You’re indeed very cute.”

As the chilly air outside reaches you once more, you make sure to remember the name of this cafe.

Because you have a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time you’d visit HanuelSan.

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NOTES. first written chapter i hope u enjoy it and please comment what u thought because i feel really self conscious about this one !! btw if u don’t get the get the kang pompompurin thing is a nod to seulgis priv twt username

TAGLIST. @bunnystrm @seongwin @aestheticsluut @meginthebuilding27 @gaebestie @stopeatread @pr1ncessm1ng1 @persphonesorchid @se0nghwaswife @seonghwasslytherin @leeknowsnothing @alixnsuperstxr @bluehwale-main @miriamxsworld @tocupid @lvsmeph @sunoo-bby @jcngh0-hq @dudufodd @nikisbf @mrowwww @end0rchans @qtdenks @mintgki @dear-dreamie @leo-seonghwa @legohwas @evilsailorsenshi @seonghwaddict @choichaeyiul @iw4milf @yunstarz @cvberidiot

#★ milky way — smau #ateez #ateez smau #ateez social media au #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san #san #san smau #san x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa smau #seonghwa x reader #mingi #mingi smau #mingi x reader #kpop social media au #kpop smau #ateez x black reader #ad0rechuu — works

[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 3.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: you wish marcus a happy thirty-sixth birthday. the sequel to two lonely people.

warnings: social isolation, self doubt, anxiety, themes of alienation, light angst, fluff, marcus has the cutest stretch marks and freckles, reader is described as same height and/or shorter than marcus, smut - mentions of intercrural sex, cum eating, grinding, handjob, sex toys, praise kink, exhibitionism, nipple play, vibrator play, cuddling(!!!).

notes: wrote this sporadically throughout my weekend away, shout-out to sima for letting me blab on and on about pedro boy porn. truly in my marcus era, i am a man possessed. these sex toys [x] [x] are also real! in case you were curious.

Bender stretches out on the couch beside you, his long and lanky body bowing low. His hairy belly brushes against the fabric of the cushion when you scratch beneath his chin. The mission of an early afternoon nap has been well accomplished. You push yourself into a sitting position, letting Bender jump to the carpet and stroll away. The grey-white of the cushions contrasts the red of the walls perfectly; in another life, Marcus must have been an interior designer.

You watch your cat—yes, yours—settle atop the orange loveseat across from you, dotted with crimson and tangerine throw pillows. Everything inside Marcus’ place is so rich and vibrant, a constant splash of colour no matter where you look. It makes you feel good to be here, like you belong. Every night spent across the street from your own home feels like a glorious field trip.

You've been coming around for four months, and Marcus has never turned you away. He's your boyfriend now, a label and structure that hasn't existed in your life for what felt like aeons. You've had to modify your habits a little bit—boyfriends get worried when you don't text or show for four days. They show up at your front door ready to call someone—a hospital or an ambulance, or your mother, god forbid.

It has been more difficult to adjust than you thought it would be. As it turns out, once you live a life of solitude, incorporating people back into it is a little like pulling teeth. It’s not that you don't like it, crave that contact. You simply don't think of it. You don't take into consideration whether or not Marcus is missing you because that feels like a little too much. Too much thought from another thrown your way, too much care about you as a person.

You're finding that Marcus almost strictly operates in the realm of too much. Too much time, too much attention dedicated to you. It's a seed of guilt that you've swallowed. The feeling has rooted itself in your chest, stringy vines encircling your lungs. Surely he has something better to do: work, maybe, or visit family and friends. But he seems to want to spend almost every night with you.

You watch movies, chat dinner plans, fuck—though it doesn't really feel like fucking. Marcus brings sweetness to your tender care, delivering praise to each of your soft touches. You love learning his body. The glow in his eyes when he makes you feel good could light the night sky, you're sure of it.

Time with him injects a new type of levity into your life that animals can't bring. Even with Bender as your own now, after Anne-Marie admitted to you his care was too much for her to handle, Marcus brings a presence to your life that makes you feel a little more assured. It's cliché, but it's true.

Tonight, you're waiting for him to come home from a late shift at work. No pet clients this week, you’ve been making yourself comfortable at Pike’s place for the past few days—since that fateful evening he knocked on your door, presuming you dead or worse.

Earlier, you texted him asking when he'd be home and almost dropped your phone. Home. Marcus hadn’t seemed to notice, but the message stopped you short. Maybe you’re a little too comfortable.

Later than I’d like, he’d replied.

His guesstimate was closer to bedtime than dinner. You told him not to worry; you’d still be here waiting. It's his birthday, after all. You are determined to celebrate, even if it's after a long day of catching criminals.

You’ve got a whole thing prepared. A silver birthday banner hanging above the kitchen entryway, his gift on the coffee table. And dinner, of course: chupe and warm bread for dipping, along with sopapillas and ice cream cake for dessert. You've never put so much effort into something like this for another person—never gotten the chance to.

Picking his gift was probably the hardest part of the process. You'd bugged Marcus over and over about an online wishlist. Anything that he needed for his place, any wants. His answer was always the same, eliciting an eye roll every time: you.

“You can't gift a person,” is always your counter, to which the man wholeheartedly disagrees. He has everything he wants; a feeling you cannot understand. Everything he wants and all he seems to want is you.

When Marcus makes it through his front door, the sky is dark. You’re asleep again, body laid across the couch as Bender sits in a comfy loaf across your ribs and diaphragm. His purring moves through your chest, keeping you warm without a blanket. The peaceful scene is disrupted when Marcus drops his bag to the floor a little too loud, waking you. It’s less of a slow, sleepy roll and more of a sharp gasp. The intake scares the cat, Bender leaping from you. He lands on the floor easily.

“Marcus,” you sigh.

“It’s me!” he smiles, his tone one of mock celebration.

“I fell asleep.” An astute observation on your part, you rub the sleep from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Marcus approaches the couch, holding a hand out to help you stand. You take it, pulling yourself up with his weight as an anchor. He manages to get you into the hold of his arms before you realize, giving you a warm hug. He’s a little sweaty today, salt mixing in with natural sweetness at the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t be sorry,” Marcus says.

You start to move, readjusting the huddle of two so he’s at least facing the strung up banner. “Happy birthday,” you whisper. “I made dinner.”

He hums against your cheek. “All this for little ol’ me?”

“Yes,” you say. “And dessert. And a gift.” You nod at the coffee table, like he can even see you with his chin over your shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Marcus says.

“I already did. And I wanted to, so it’s done. Come on.” You squeeze your arms around him. “Let’s eat.”

You sit him down at the table, not letting Marcus lift a finger as you bring out two bowls. The shrimp stew has been on the stove, simmering at a low temperature since you finished cooking. You bring the pot out of the kitchen and set it on a cork trivet. When he looks past the lip of the pot, Marcus’ face splits into a disbelieving smile.

“I could kiss you right now,” he says, ass hovering from his chair.

“Sit. You can kiss me later.” You ladle chupe into Marcus’ bowl, then your own. “Shit, spoons. Just a second.” Getting up again, Marcus catches your wrist as you pass the side of the table.

“Honey,” he says.

“I’ll just be a second.”

“You’re doing too much.”

“I’m not,” you insist. “I—can I…”

Your eyes tell it better than your words can, staring down at him. Please let me do this for you. Marcus lets you go, and you return a minute later with a pair of spoons.

You sit down at the table. Marcus simply stares at you. You start to smile before twisting your lips, looking down at your bowl.

“What?” you ask. When he doesn’t say anything, you repeat yourself.

“Nothing.” Marcus shakes his head.

“There’s something.”

“You. You’re just…incredible.”

You shrug. “I wanted to do something a little bit special. I know it’s not a super big deal—”

“The woman who has a freezer stocked with heat-and-eat lasagna made me chupe.”

“Sopapillas, too. They’re in the microwave.”

“And sopapillas. This is such a big deal,” Marcus says.

You hate to admit it, but your heart swells. This is such a big deal. God, you really do lo—

Marcus watches you expectantly, like he's just asked a question. You have no idea what he said. Instead you smile and nod. Then you dip your spoon into the food.

Watching him eat is the best part. Every bite is a reaction, seeing the flavours splash over his tongue turning into something of a spectator sport. Marcus takes seconds but declines a third helping, obediently letting you clean up from dinner and bring out the aforementioned fried dough pouches.

In central Chile, they make sopapillas with pumpkin—in the north, that's not so much the case. Marcus has told you where his family is from, Arica, right near the border with Peru. Part of your disappearing act last week had to do with the last round of research and planning for tonight. By the time you’d nailed the recipe, you’d gotten caught up in looking at maps and learning the country’s history.

“I know it's not one hundred percent,” you say, referring to the food. “Not too sure if I cooked the sauce long enough.”

The cinnamon syrup was the difficult part of the cooking operation. Unsure if Marcus would like a thicker or thinner consistency, you spooned in corn syrup ‘til the liquid took on a half-runny, half-gloopy viscosity.

Marcus speaks with his mouth still full. “It's fucking delicious.” He cuts himself off at three, promising to finish the rest for breakfast.

You scoot away to the kitchen for the final time tonight, taking the ice cream cake out of the fridge. Admittedly, you got a little carried away with it. Ninety dollars on a cake sounds like highway robbery, but it's worth it for the look on his face.

As you set the cake down on the table before him, Marcus looks at a perfectly printed image of his own dopey grin. Jutting out from his mouth is a speech bubble made of icing and carefully placed fondant. He's wishing himself a happy birthday.

You stand by his shoulder, watching his expression. He seems to be stuck halfway between amazement and amusement; just what you wanted. When he joins you on his feet, it's to kiss you—long, deep, and slow. You lean into it, into him, his soft strength supporting you as Marcus caresses your upper arm. Then he grabs your elbow, gently placing each forearm at his sides to cage him in. You hear Bender more than see him, feeling him rub his head against your shin.

“This is the best birthday ever,” Marcus says.

“Including or ignoring that you’re four years out from fourty?” you ask.

His nose brushes against yours. “Don't be a smartass,” he breathes, voice all play.

You both only take a small slice of the cake, bellies full of your homemade dinner. You won't be telling Marcus about the trial batches of shrimp stew that were ultimately fed to the dogs in your care, woefully forgotten as you added another bag of the fresh shellfish to your grocery order.

When you're finished, you start to clear the table. Marcus insists on helping at this part, leaving no room for discussion when he plucks the stack of bowls and spoons from your hands. You wrap the cake and put it back in the fridge, along with the chupe and sopapillas, both in airtight containers. Marcus washes as you dry, navigating his kitchen like an expert when you go to put things away. Well, not like an expert—you are one. After today, you can run this room blindfolded.

When all is said and done, Marcus leans you against the kitchen counter. He plants a kiss to your cheek, slowly heading southbound to your jaw, then your neck.

You giggle as he reaches the soft skin of your throat. “Still got your present waiting for you.”

“You're right here,” he says.

“Hardy har,” you intone. Pushing at his shoulders, Marcus lets up. “On the coffee table.”

He takes the lead back to the living room, sitting on his couch to eye the sleek black box that awaits him. You can't sit, running a thumb over your lips as Marcus takes the gift in his hands. He shakes it, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You're killing me here, Pike.”

“I'm appreciating the fine cardboard craftsmanship,” he says of the box. As much artisanal handiwork as the dollar store gift aisle can grant you, anyway.

Finally, Marcus lifts the lid from the box. On a soft pillow of red and white tissue paper lies the three things you got him, as well as a small card. You watch him take one of the gifts from the box, squeezing it. Nerves claw at your stomach. He takes his time to analyze it, flip it over and flip it again in his hand.

“This is cool,” he says, almost absentmindedly. Then to you, “These stress toys?”

That anxious cord inside snaps, taking you down with it. You're in free fall as your skin goes warm with embarrassment, your palms the only thing shielding you from the world.

“No,” you sigh softly.

It's a shitty gift. That much is clear when he can't even tell what it is. You should have stuck with something simple, like a bookstore gift card. But no, you had to go out on a whim.

Marcus asks if you're okay, words laced with tender concern. You take three seconds to recompose yourself and prepare for what comes next. Pulling a mask together, your hands come away from your face.

“They're, um—well. They're sex toys. Grinding toys made of silicone to…” You clear your throat. “Those are soft... The other one is sort of a vibrator.” Marcus follows your words, looking down at the small green device. “It was a bad gift idea. I thought you would like ‘em.”

If you click your heels three times, will the universe grant you mercy and travel you home? Squeezing your eyes shut for a second, you swallow the knot in your throat. Opening them again, your boyfriend is still here. No dice.

He stands, bringing the box with him. You take a seat on the loveseat, letting him join you. As much as you want to curl inwards and die, for a lack of better words, Marcus will want to talk about it. Understand.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” you return. Looking at him makes it hard to retreat into yourself.

“It's a great gift.”

“You don't have to say that.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “This is good.”

Watching his thick fingers rub over the meat of the toy should not turn you on as much as it does, a low simmer between your legs. The soft ridges of the floppy one in his hand look a little Georgia O’Keefe; the lines of an abstract vulva. You stop yourself from picturing that hand by your thighs, cupping you where you want Marcus the most.

“I figured because you like to grind on me, this might add something more to it. Just for fun,” you shrug.

Like to is an understatement. If observing Marcus Pike is a competitive display, when it comes to grinding, you're going pro. In bed, he rubs his cock against you—your thighs, your ass, your chest—and against the sheets. He's very into intercrural, first showing you a video of the act on the night of your two month anniversary before putting yourselves to the test.

His favourite, though, is to rub against the top of your thigh as you make out and watch him. He likes the attention, and you love giving it to him. When Marcus finishes, he lets you feed him his cum with the pads of your fingers.

He kisses you softly now, hand at your cheek as he rubs the skin close to your ear.

“It's a great fuckin’ gift,” Marcus assures you. “Just needed the clue in.”

“You don't have to reassure me,” you say, shaking your head. You hate when this happens. Tonight is about him, and suddenly it's your emotions taking centre stage. Sometimes it feels like you take up all the air in the room.

“I want to,” Marcus says.

He wants to. You could melt.

“Did you want to try them?” you ask. “The toys?”

“Please.” He nods in the direction of the stairs, prompting you to lead the way.

You take Marcus by the hand, leading the way as he follows you up to his bedroom. In the months of being together, the rush to the bed has dissipated. Neither of you are any less eager, but you know now that Marcus isn't going anywhere. There is a sense of security here that you haven't ever felt before.

When you cross the threshold of the room, you take your time with undressing him. It's an unwrapping of sorts. The buttons of his shirt come away easily, sliding off Marcus’ shoulders to the floor. Next is his belt, clinking lightly as you reach down and pull the leather strap from his waist. He takes his pants and boxers off for you, leaving the man in the nude.

You leave yourself a moment to simply look. Taking him in with your eyes, you smile. Who has blessed you with such a beautiful, understanding man and how can you ever repay them? The heat of his body pressed against the skin bared by your rolled up sleeves makes you shiver. You want forever to hold him. Have him be yours.

Cool fingers run across Marcus’ bare hip. You trace the marks of thinned skin near his waist. He watches you carefully, breath held. You blow air against his lips before kissing him hungrily. Like this, you can taste him: vanilla ice cream and butterscotch.

Pulling him to the bed, you let him get comfortable. Marcus has left the box of toys on the nightstand. You leave them for now, straddling his thighs before you take his dick in your hand. He’s all warm and smooth against your palm, the ridge of a vein pressing against your thumb.

Marcus sucks in a small gasp as you start to move your hand. He gently takes hold of the base of your skull, resting your forehead to his. He looks at you, unblinking. The two of you are caught in a bit of a staring contest; you never want to pull your eyes away from his beautiful face. Those full lips pout for you, forming something like your name in precious whispers.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” you say. “I love you.” Marcus’ eyes roll to the back of his skull, his hips tilting further up into your touch.

This man is the sun to your stars. You don’t quite orbit each other, but he makes you feel that much brighter. You two are cut from the same cloth; scorching infernos no one ever truly gets to see, not quite within the grasp of others. But here, it’s different. A focused fire meets an exploding astral scatter.

“You’re always so good to me, Marcus,” you whisper. “I’m so lucky.”

“Fuck, you’re so—god.” He doesn’t get much more coherent.

You reach for the toys with your free hand, distracting him with gentle kisses across the constellations that dot his chest. A thousand tiny sun spots beneath the plush of your lips. You could stay here forever, feeling his skin against you.

First, you start with the soft silicone toy without the vibe. You squeeze it in your hand to warm it up, then bring it close to Marcus.

“Can I touch you with this?”

“Please,” he nods.

You take it into the hand already in contact with his cock, sliding the toy against him slowly. Marcus groans, tipping his head back. His eyes close briefly before flying back open.

Immediately, you stop what you are doing. “You alright?”

“You’re still fully dressed.” He speaks as if he’s just realized the situation at hand.

You simply nod. “Yeah.”

“Would you wanna…” Marcus glances down at his naked body.

“Tonight is about you,” you say.

“Well, I want you to. If you want to.”

You’ve been ignoring the tacky feeling in your underwear, letting the seam of your pants do the work for you as you watch Marcus.

“Okay.”

You let Marcus undress you, pressing pause on sex. His hands rove over you as he peels the shirt from your skin, making quick work of everything below the waist. He settles your cunt over his cock, gliding you forward and back with his hands. You take in a breath, reveling in the slide against your clit. When Marcus lifts his hips just so, you moan. You use his shoulders as a hold, balancing to stay upright.

Taking the silicone toy, you place it between his pelvis and the length of his dick. Then you hover over the underside of him once again. When you sit down, pussy slick against his length, Marcus huffs out a desperate groan. You grind against him, giving him friction at either side.

“Feels so fucking good,” Marcus says. “I…you’re so fucking warm. Wet.”

“Yeah? That’s what you do to me. So sweet, such a good man,” you say. His hands come to rest at your hips again. “Wanna flip me over?”

Marcus nods, readjusting so that he’s overtop of you now. He slots the toy between the crux of skin at your thigh, grinding against it as he presses light touches to your clit. Focused on his pleasure, he keeps his eyes closed as he ruts into you. Marcus kisses you as he cums, stickiness painting your skin.

He travels down your body with his mouth, trailing lips and tongue across your collarbone. Marcus licks at your left nipple before he latches onto it. Your spine pulls taut as you cup his head to your breast, petting his hair in encouragement. When he leaves your chest, he moves straight to the cum against your skin. As you watch him lick it off the front of your hip, you’re sure that you have died and gone to heaven.

Marcus laves his tongue over the skin between your belly and pelvis, watching for your reaction. He leaves your body for only a moment. When he comes into focus again, he’s holding the green vibrating toy in his hand.

Turning it on, he asks, “Is this okay?” as he presses it to your pubic bone.

You nod, an mhm coming out more like a slight whine.

He moves it lower and lower, tracing the tip of the pear-shaped device around your wetness.

“Where do you want it?” The question is playfully facetious; he knows exactly where you want it.

“Marcus, please,” you sigh.

He hums, nose inches above your soft and swollen cunt. “You know I’ll always give you what you want.”

Marcus presses the toy against you, the round and squishy body subtly buzzing against your cunt as the tip delivers a direct point of pressure to your clit. He shifts it every few moments, the readjustments pushing you further and faster towards the edge. It’s the kiss that does it for you, tender as he cradles the side of your face with his large hand. The caress of his ring finger against your cheek cuts the cord, your orgasm rocking your body like volts of electricity.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” he murmurs. Marcus turns the toy off, releasing you from the overwhelming waves of pleasure. Cradling your back to his front, he kisses the crown of your head.

“I love you too, y’know,” Marcus says.

“Hm?” You shift in his arms, looking at him now. “What did you say?”

The way you bat your eyes at him tells Marcus that you heard him perfectly fine. He shakes his head with a light chuckle. “I said—”

“I love you.” You steal the words from him the same way he’s taken your heart.

Marcus Pike is many things: your neighbour, your boyfriend. A lover and a thief. He’s offered up his guts to you so easily, your prize for taking a chance. This man is a gift. A teacher. You're re-learning what it's like to have someone be there. To live and feel the art of giving.

#marcus pike #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #marcus pike x reader #*lover be sweet

[strniohoeee]

im literally obsessed with ur writings❤️ can u do one where reader has social anxiety and matt tells her to be at somewhere for a date(a crowded place)but he forget to go and reader gets a panic attack and then they argue but the end is fluffy

Stuffy

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader 💌

Synopsis: Matt plans a date with Y/N, but he forgets a few days later. When Y/N shows up at the restaurant, and it’s packed she started to suffocate 🖤

Warnings⚠️: Talks of a panic attack, and that’s about it

Song for the imagine: I can’t handle change- Roar

I hated how anxious I was around people who I didn’t know, or how my throat felt like it was closing when the place became too crowded. I always struggled with social anxiety, but as I got older, and went out less it became even worse

Before I dated Matt, and we were all friends they would try and get me to go to a party, but I never ever went. I simply could not. But once Matt and I got closer, and we started dating he paved the way for me to feel more comfortable.

I didn’t go to every event, but I did show up at a lot more places, and many people were proud of how much I’ve accomplished. I was proud of myself too, I mean had you told me a year ago I’d be going to parties, and actually talking to people I would have laughed in your face. But this is all thanks to Matt. He never made me do anything I didn’t want to, and if I was uncomfortable he was always there for me.

Right now I was getting dressed because Matt asked me out on a date about three days ago. He was laying in my bed while we were dozing off.

“Let’s go out Friday night, like 8pm. I have a meeting with Laura, but after that meet me at Garden’s Kitchen” he said while snuggled into me

“Yeah sure I’ll meet you there” I told him, and we fell asleep

So that’s what I was currently getting dressed for, and I was about to head out, and meet him downtown. I was very anxious to travel downtown alone, but I knew the Uber would drop me off in front of the restaurant, and all I had to do was walk in , and meet with Matt.

I got to the restaurant at about 10 after 8, because of traffic, so that already made me anxious. I hopped out of the car, and walked inside…..immediately my heart sank. It was fucking PACKED

My heart started to race, and my palms got sweaty. I started to look around, and my eyes landed on a big sign that said $2 margaritas every Friday.

I was fucking mortified this place was so packed I kept getting bumped into. I shimmied my way to a corner, and pulled out my phone to text Matt

“Hey baby I’m here! It’s packed. Did you get a seat?” I texted him

“Hey babe, where are you?” He asked me

“I’m all the way at the front by the entrance” I texted back

“Wait what? No I mean like where are you?” He asked again

“Oh. I’m at Gardens Kitchen for our date, remember?” I texted back

“A date? I’m sorry baby I don’t remember” he said

My heart started racing even more, and I thought I was about to pass out

“The date you asked me on ... .3 days ago?” I texted back

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember” he said

I tried to text him, but my messages weren’t going through, so I tried to call him, but my calls weren’t going through as well….one of us had bad service.

“Excuse me ma’am” I heard so I looked up

“Yes?” I asked

“Are you getting a table or not? Theres people waiting on you” she said rudely

I looked behind me, and a line had formed

“Oh no I’m sorry!” I said back in shock

“So then step off the line” the guy behind me said

“Oh I’m sorry” i said back

Then all of a sudden it just got so loud, and everyone was talking to me, and looking at me, and I swore my hearing was going out

I started to have a panic attack, my vision got blurry, my chest was heavy and I felt like I was going to die. Then all of a sudden the tears started streaming down my face

I ran out of the restaurant trying to ground myself, and with shaky fingers i ordered an Uber to go to the triplets house

It was about a 30 minute drive, my texts and calls still weren’t going through to Matt. I was trying to stay calm but I was so overstimulated I really thought I was going to die

I had gotten to the triplets house, using the pin pad to let myself in. I heard them laughing in the kitchen

I stomped up the stairs

“HOW COULD YOU” I said stomping towards the kitchen

“Baby! Baby! You’re okay” Matt said running up to me

“YOU DIDNT ANSWER ME. YOU LEFT ME THERE AT A BUSY PLACE KNOWING HOW I GET. I HAD PEOPLE YELLING AT ME, AND I HAD A PANIC ATTACK” I said raising my voice

“I didn’t do it on purpose I swear, my phone had no service” he said looking into my eyes

“Matt, you asked me out three days ago…how did you forget? And then you send me to a restaurant that serves $2 margaritas on a Friday night…. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WERE THERE” I said starting to shake feeling another panic attack beginning to start

“I KNOW, and I’m sorry okay I really didn’t remember. I would never do anything to hurt you” he said pulling me in and rubbing my back

“Matt I felt like I was going to die” I said sobbing into his chest

“Baby it’s okay! You’re here with me. You’re okay. Don’t worry I got you my love. Breathe in and out” he said to me

I was shaking and sobbing and I couldn’t catch my breath

“Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice? Breathe in and out okay here give me your hands” he grabbed my hands and put them on his face

“You can feel me, you feel my jaw, and my nose, you can feel me talking when I put your hands here” he said as he placed my hands on his chest

“Look at me okay look at me” he said, and finally I opened my eyes while I was taking deep shallow breaths

“Look at my eyes, what color are they?” He asked me

“Bl- they’re blue” I said in broken sobs

“And my hair what color is my hair” he said bringing my hands to his hair

“It’s brown” I said taking deeper breaths

“My lips, how do they feel” he said rubbing my finger on his lips

“They feel soft” I said

He placed his hand on my heart

“Breathe in….and out. I got you! You’re okay follow me” he said and started to breathe in and out

I followed his orders, and slowly my heart rate started to go down

“Okay good, very good. You’re okay y/n I’m here with you” he said still having his hand on my heart

“I’m sorry Matt” I said pulling him in for a hug

“This is not your fault. This is all my fault. I sent my baby out to a place, and I wasn’t even there, and I let her down. I let her have a panic attack” he said placing his hand on the back of my head kissing the top of my head

“No Matt you forgot. I should have reminded you” I told him pulling away

“Don’t worry about it baby , okay. This will never ever happen ever again. I will never do some stupid shit like that again” he said walking me over to the kitchen table

Nick handed me water, and Chris gave me my comfort pillow that I had for when I would have a panic attack

“Are you okay?” Nick asked looking at me

“Yes I’m okay” I said nodding my head and taking a sip of water

“I love you so much y/n, and know that I would never do anything to hurt you” he said rubbing my cheek with the back of his hand

“I know Matt. I love you too” I said weakly as I gave in to his touch

That night Matt and I stood attached at the hip, and we ate pizza and watched movies, and honestly I forgot about my panic attacks. Nick and Chris also came in for a bit making sure I was okay and giving me hugs.

I loved Matt so much.

The End

I hope you guys liked this one, and whoever requested lmk how you liked it 🖤💋

-J💅🏽

A/N: I’m 21🧎🏽‍♀️

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic

[sathina]

Believe me

Pairing - Jack Harlow x reader

Summary - When things get too hard

Warning - angst, fluff, shamed on social media, talk about anxiety

The bright screen lit up the whole room. You were laying on your side, hands under your head, knees pulled up to your chest, laptop sitting too close to your face. There were tears in your eyes, some already dried up on your flushed cheeks, some only freshly falling.

You couldn't understand how people could be so cruel. How people didn't understand that their words hurt, some hurt even more than open wounds.

You quickly covered your mouth when you heard the front door slam shut. You knew this was a quiet moment before a disaster. Small waves before a big storm.

The heavy footsteps didn't help either, as the seconds passed by, your world seemed to stop. There was this uncomfortable ringing in your ears, your head pounding from the previous anxiety attack.

As Jack opened the bedroom door he saw your back. Tightly cuddled in the middle of the mattress, the laptop's light illuminating the side of your face.

" Hey, baby." You heard shuffling but didn't dare to turn around. If you did, if you met his blue eyes you knew you would break down yet again. Instead you just shut your eyes, praying for a new day to come.

In some aspects Jack was a complete dumbass, but your feelings weren't a part of them. He could see right through your act, your nose was red and snotty, puffy eye bags hanging on top of your cheekbones. A bright headline still visible on the screen. He knew what this was about.

Just like last time, social media has gotten to your mind. Jack saw the way it was slowly eating you away day by day. For weeks he blamed himself because of it. But at this very moment, it was so much worse than any last time.

He fell to his knees by the bed, quickly reaching out for your face, cradling it in his soft hands.

" What happened?" Inside Jack was breaking too, the only difference was he knew how to hide it. He had to be strong for you.

Your eyes fell from his to the screen, silently telling him to take a look himself. Your boyfriend caught on instantly, pulling the laptop closer to himself, already scrolling through the bold article.

At first it was the same shit, pictures of Jack clearly standing far from the many women, but somehow, the paragraph underneath made him look like a cheater. This time it was tonight's events.

But upon scrolling further, the angrier he got.

Your bikini and normal pictures were put side by side to Jack's supposed ex-flings. Under them a whole story picking at the differences in his girlfriend and them. All worded out in the negative lights.

It honestly felt like he could throw up.

" You believe this shit?" He turned to look up at you. The tears have stopped by now, only letting out small sniffles now and then.

" I don't know what to believe, Jack." A hiccup could be heard after your sentence, mind getting clouded by your own thoughts.

Shutting the laptop he climbed into your bed, his big arms indulging you in a tight hug, slightly swaying your frame left to right.

" Now, sweetheart, listen to me, okay? They're irrelevant. They're just a bunch of people who love to take down others because of their own problems. Believe me, if I could, they all would never see the light of day ever again." He placed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, inhaling your all too familiar scent.

A part of you felt like a child that was getting scolded by their parents, the other part agreeing with everything Jack said in his little rant.

But at the end of the day you knew there was no end to this, it would just keep coming. And all you could do, was just keep swimming.

#fanfic #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow smut #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic

[blinkpen]

if you see a homeless person a block ahead, and try to duck any possible interaction or eye contact by getting a headstart opening up your phone and then pretending to be so casually engrossed in it by the time you've gotten closer that you just conveniently did not notice the homeless person, (they'll see you're not uncaring, you just didn't notice! you would have acknowledged their existence if you knew they were there, but you didn't, see! phone! plausible deniability baybeee!!!, phew)...

i... hope you are aware, that every single homeless person ever at this point sees right the fuck through that? literally everyone who ignores homeless people uses that trick.

the self-soothing balm for you to feel less guilt, bc you totally avoided making the homeless person feel intentionally ignored? it is a fucking illusion that only exists for you. you didn't avoid that. at all. sorry. you haven't been fooling any of them. not a single damn one. you are no better than anyone else who ignored them that day, which was probably everyone.

pulling the exact same little strategy.

if this sounds like you, well, you're not nearly as slick as you think you are and you need to get the fuck over yourself. yes this applies if you have self esteem issues or social anxiety or whatever, you feeling bad you can't do more to help is not an excuse to go "might as well do what's easy by doing absolutely fucking nothing at all then, or even Actively Choose to do something that only makes it Worse, bc that's even easier"

if this sounds like you, well just go sit in the corner and think

and the next time you see a homeless person

fucking look at them. fucking wave. fucking smile in a way that conveys you acknowledge you are a human looking at another human, even if you cannot help them, they are seen.

fucking say hello. just a single fucking word. you might have been the first person in weeks to have done so.

#i needed to vent again #whiny losers who let all compassion leave their body at the slightest threat of personal discomfort or inconvenience... #...and then dont have the decency to even be honest with themselves about it and it needs to be about how bad they feel about doing so #well sometimes it makes me..... #.......angery........ #get the fuck over yourself and be cool by saying this one easy word: hello! [with enthusiasm] #non rebloggable bc i dont want people who think being neurodivergent eternally absolves them of anything or its ableism whining at me

[bmodiwrites]

Give Me Your Hand (& I'll Hold it)

Hi friends! I'm back with another 5(+1) with hand holding at the helm. I'm really excited for this one because Birdy's People Help the People got to be played on repeat as I wrote. This one has some angst, some fluff, and the patented bmodi happy ending. You can read the first section below and the rest over on AO3! Like, reblog, and let me know what you think!!!

The dust of a school bus pulling out of the parking lot makes Eddie sneeze. He’s brushing the back of his hand across his nose when the reality of his situation hits him. Even at 7, Eddie understands the concept of being pawned off. Usually his parents drop him on Uncle Wayne’s doorstop, only returning to pick him up three months later. This summer, however, Eddie is stuck at sleep away camp, bound to be forgotten amongst the masses.

He put up quite the fight in order to stay home for the summer, Eddie is at least proud of that. Even if he’s just hanging out in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie is amongst the creature comforts he’s come to know. He can practice acoustic guitar and read the nickel comics Wayne has stashed away. Instead, Eddie’s fated to perish in the heat (or under the weight of someone’s fist) at some lame summer camp made for social kids interested in singing kumbaya and playing every sport known to man.

Dread settles a little further in his stomach when Eddie realizes that almost everyone else seems to know each other. There aren’t any other stragglers like himself hanging out at the back of the group. Hugs and exclamations of excitement ring in Eddie’s ears. For the first time, probably ever, he’s happy to be called to attention by someone in charge. Glorious silence radiates for a moment before a high pitched voice starts to talk all about Camp Silver Lake.

Dissatisfaction sits in the back of Eddie’s head throughout the hours that follow. First, he’s stuffed into a camp uniform that doesn’t have a single stitch of black on it. The bright sun he can see out of the corner of his eye every time he takes a step makes Eddie want to rip the stupid shirt to threads. Soon after that, Eddie finds himself in a cabin with 11 other boys who all know each other and look at him with disdain. Whatever hopes he has of making it out of the summer alive dwindle down to nothing by the time everyone is unpacked and projecting their hostile energy towards the obvious odd man out.

Things get even worse when his cabin is led down to the water. Eddie isn’t the strongest swimmer – he’s much more of an inside kid than one that spends days out by the pool. He adamantly avoided the chance to swim at Wayne’s house last summer because chlorine made him itchy. Despite the lake before him lacking in chemicals, Eddie knows he’s going to have to find a way to not make a fool out of himself. He has to swim or the summer is going to be a long one.

After a long lecture about water safety and instructions about what’s going to happen during the swim test, Eddie stands in line behind excited sheep who boast and brag about their accomplishments throughout the year. Eddie is too busy worrying about not drowning to pay attention to who won what medal or stole some stupid base. His anxiety crawls up higher around him with each person that completes the task. Eddie is getting closer to that point where there’s no turning back.

He wishes so desperately that he was brave enough to stand up for himself and run the hell away.

That’s not who Eddie is, however. Deep down, right in the bottom pit of his belly, there’s a part of Eddie that wants to fit in. No matter how hard he struggles against the norm, Eddie’s feelings hurt worse when it becomes apparent that he’s not even close to baseline and everyone around him knows it.

With only two people before him, Eddie is starting to realize that must be his lot in life – he’s bound to be the boy everyone laughs at for being a weirdo.

Seconds away from spiraling completely, Eddie startles at the feeling of a hand reaching out to grab at his own. He turns to tell whoever decided to encroach upon his personal space off but stops before words can leave his mouth.

Being so young, Eddie doesn’t understand the warm flash of heat that fills his chest upon first looking at this random little boy. He’s not sure why the kid is there but he already feels better knowing someone in this scary group of people has a heart. Instead of lashing out, Eddie squeezes the clammy hand holding his. It’s comfort enough to stop the mental breakdown Eddie seemed to be heading for.

“It’s okay, I was scared my first summer here, too. Once you get this over with, the rest of camp is a lot of fun. We’ll get to do whatever we want,” the boy says with a gap toothed grin. He looks like the type of person who fits in with the group, not abnormal like Eddie – yet, he’s kind enough to include Eddie in the mix, too. Whoever this person is, he’s a conundrum Eddie can’t help but be interested in.

Eddie is quick to learn that his savior is Steve Harrington, a boy who also lives in Hawkins. He chats amicably while they wait in line, all while holding Eddie’s hand. There’s never a moment where that sweaty grip loosens or comes close to leaving Eddie behind. It’s beautiful in the sense that Eddie forgets where he is and why he was nervous in the first place.

Getting to the front of the line a few minutes later, all of Eddie’s apprehension returns. He’s working on letting go of Steve so he can grow up and make something of himself when that happy voice sounds in his ears again. “I’ll go first. Watch me, Eddie – I’ll show you how.”

Without waiting an extra beat, Steve turns and runs the last couple of steps so he can catapult himself into the water cannonball style. As the water comes up around him, Eddie feels something inside him shift. The little boy afraid to be around other people is replaced by someone who’s cool enough to be that crazy kid’s friend. Knowing Steve’s got his back, Eddie feels like he can do anything.

Like, pass the swimming test with flying colors.

After he gets out of the water and dries off, Steve is right back by his side, grinning like a loon. “See? Easy-peasy.” Steve holds his hand out for a high five and keeps it there until Eddie gets with the program and finally slaps him a bit of skin.

That little handshake becomes regular for them as they spend the rest of camp revolving around each other. Eddie is attached to Steve’s hip, following him around like the lost puppy he is. When they’re approached about it, Steve happily goes on about how Eddie is his best friend.

It’s nice, having someone there for him, though not meant to last. Even Eddie at 7 knows that.

Read the rest over on AO3!

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fic #steddie fic #bobbie writes #give me your hand (& i'll hold it) #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic

[fcknstar]

(Amazing Spider-Man) Harry Osborn with a (female) s/o with social anxiety? <3

i honestly love this request cause i experience social anxiety myself too!

,, hold me? "

harryosborn x fem!reader

a.n : m vv sorry abt how late i posted this. i currently have alot of hw and in my previous post i stated my reason. i hope everyone understands! my taglist!

warnings : mentions of social anxiety!

** lowercase intended **

" you dont have to come you know? " harrys voice broke your focus. you both were currently in the lift, trying to get the main room where his company celebration was being held. 

" yes, i know harry. but i wanna be there for you, be here for you. youre telling me that i cant try and bear it for a few hours? " you looked up at him, seeing his concern look. 

" okay, if it gets tad bit too unbearable, pull me with you okay? i dont want you to suffer alone. " 

" okay, just hold me and don't leave my side.. please? " you tightly held on his arm. 

" never. " harry gave you a comforting smile when the door of the lift opened up. 

walking into the main room was frightening. it was so crowded, that it looked like there was multiple insects running into each other. taking a deep breath, you readied yourself and placed on a smile while harry brought you deeper to the room. you most definitely didnt want to embarrass you yourself and harry when it was supposed to be his special day. harrys hand hardly left your skin, worried that you both might get separated, knowing that thats one of your biggest worries. 

" mr osborn! ah, im guessing this is the soon to be mrs osborn? " a family friend greeted you both, making you lose the train full of worries. 

" well, what can i say. we found each other. and you know people fall in love. " harry looked at you with adoration in his eyes. he truly loved bragging about you. 

" oh, honey! they are just like us when we were younger! " his wife cheered. " you two are made for each other. " 

that sentence warmed your heart despite having heard that multiple times. youd like to think that love is rare, and that you managed to build love with someone else. someone that truly saw everything in you. 

" congratulations on the company! its better than usual! "

" yea well, couldn't have done it without her.. " harry pulled you closer, giving you a comforting side hug that he knew you needed. you always found hugs comforting, and harry loved giving hugs. 

when harrys family friend communicated with harry for a few more minutes, you smiled at everyone who came your way. 

" (name)! you look even more gorgeous in person, its actually surreal! " a young lady, around your age complimented you. it was very rare yet delightful when the same sex complimented you because it was very common for the opposite sex to do so. 

" she is, isnt she? " harry seemed to have ended his previous conversation and went ahead and listened to your current one. 

the girl smiled, eyes focusing on you and only you. " well, have a good night (name)! oh! and congrats mr. osborn! " 

" you okay? " harry asked, tugging your arm. 

" mhm, just a little bit tired.. " you said, feeling overstimulated with all the walking and smiling you did. 

" alright then, we can leave now if you want? " harrys gaze was focused on you. nodding, you sighed, leaning your forehead on his chest taking in his scent. 

bonus : 

harry would order for you. 

" so what would you like? " the waiter asked, chewing her gum annoyingly. many things annoyed you and it made it worse when you realized she was directing that question to you. frowning, you looked at harry who sat opposite of you. harry saw how stressed you were even if your facial expressions didnt show any of it. harry then gave you a soft smile and proceeded with the order you both agreed on. 

" shed like a venti latte with a cheesecake, and a cup of cappuccino for me, please and thank you. "

" sorry harry.. i know i said id try and- " 

" hey, hey.. i know its hard and you dont have to force yourself you know that right? im here and most definitely can and would love to help you.. okay? so don't worry. " you appreciated having harry by your side. he knew how to comfort you when you had nearly tuned out everything. 

#imagines #oneshots #dane dehaan #harry osborn x reader #tasm!harry osborn #tasm!harry osborn x reader #valerian and the city of a thousand planets #valerianxreader #valerian #dane dehaan imagine #harry osborn imagine #answered

[movedmovedsoup]

“Likewise”

robin x gn! reader. PART 2/3!

the first chapter is right here! feel free to read :)//

edit: i originally made this a little too long for my liking so yes ! there will be a next part but it’ll be definitely a whole lot more shorter, just to wrap things up :)💕//

subjecta13-thefangirl

taglist !

@multi-simp-page

@telmawang-blog

@utopiabby

@subjecta13-thefangirl

@brunettebri

it had been six months, practically almost half a year since the two of you have well..interacted. you tried to turn more into normalcy, trying to push away your feelings for robin. hell, you even tried to talk up billy showalter to ignore the ache you felt in the pits of your stomach. you tried talking to the damn paperboy!! it just went to show how badly you wanted to return to how things originally were. your worst fear had came true. things weren’t going to be the same after that rainy day. instead of walking the halls with robin and finney by your side, you found yourself walking the halls with donna and gwen, sometimes finney had caught up to you and stayed by your side some days.

anytime finney wanted to do something, obviously with you and robin. robin would very quickly say he suddenly had something that popped up preventing from hanging out with the two of you. it left you with a pang in your heart, one of anxiety and a bit of shame. you couldn’t help but feel like you just ruined the whole friendship, years and years going down the drain. everytime you saw him around a lump in your throat would form. legs feeling weak and identical to jelly. you had caught him glancing at you during classes or if you were at the l local ‘grab n go’ when he was. yet you were too chicken to look back at him, knowing if you did words would immediately start to fall out without any warning. and you didn’t want to make matters worse than they already were. surprisingly enough robin’s and your own mother didn’t seem to notice the lost connection between the two of you. simply thinking the two of you were just busy and called on the phone whenever you could.

oh you really wished

you wished that was the matter, you wished robin still came to you whenever he had gotten into a fight, you wished he still hung out with you and finney as a group. all you could do was wish and wish. and obviously wishing wasn’t going to do shit. now you were completely sure he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you, zero, zilch, none. it was now october ‘78. the only good thing that came out of the whole messy situation was that you got closer to finney. sure the two of you were close but not exactly as close as you were with robin. and vise versa for him considering robin introduced the two of you. but for the most part, with some slight adjustments in social circles. everything was the same as it was months prior. finney was crushing hard on donna, robin kept on beating people up, and you? well you were just doing your own thing.. as you always did. walking home to your house, twisting open the front door you spotted some fancy looking lady talking to your mother, to which you found quite suspicious but didn’t seem to care a whole lot to attach yourself to the conversation. shrugging the confused feeling away, immediately thinking it’s some type of friend from work maybe? boss even? sneaking up the stairs as you dropped your semi-worn out bag onto the hardwood floor of the room.

rubbing your face with exhaustion from the day you had just finished, about to lay down and soak in the mundane life you had to get used to now that a key part of your routine was gone. seeing as your mother slammed the door open, as she usually did. not seeing why she should knock.

you immediately shot right back up giving her a quizzical look. immediately you knew something was uo. from the way her face formed into a weary smile and soft tone as she sat down at the foot of your bed. immediately you started to think about what you could’ve done that made her this way. racking your brain left and right you didn’t seem to hear the rest of her statement as the only words that made it through was.

‘we are moving next week.’

those are the only words you grabbed out of you spacing out on your mother. jaw going slack with slight shock as you blinked a little “what? huh? why?!” immediately as usual your thoughts seemed to race faster than your heart, it was like a competition between the two. mother raised a brow with a confused look on her face. ‘er…i didn’t think you’d be this effected by such a move..?” she admitted with furrowed brows. just everything about this situation made your face twist into a grimace and her response already made the attitude you had even worse if that was possible. everything just felt like it was crumbling down and if it couldn’t possibly be worse it somehow did. asking your mother to just give you a moment, she got the memo and walked out of the room as you laid there. staring up at the ceiling. glancing over at your door which was cracked open, enough where you could see the house phone that was stuck on the wall. you couldn’t help but stare at it, hoping that just magically the phone would ring, and when it did ring it would be robin. but of course it didn’t, why would it ring? the last time he had looked at you his face didn’t hold a ounce of being happy with you. he looked..no short of disgusted. well, you thought he didn’t anyways.

but little did you know he was beating himself up for it big time. of course he liked you! he has been liking you for the longest time! robin didn’t understand why he acted the way he did that day. sure, the boy wasn’t much of a romantic..at all. but it was just different when he was around you. almost like nothing could bother him at all, and for the most part, nothing did bother him when you were by his side. he was getting into a whole lot more fights now that you weren’t right there to slap some sense into him. the only person who was able to do that was finney.

who was desperately trying to bring you two back together again. robin appreciated the effort but he couldn’t stand there next to you, he was no short of ashamed and embarrassed. the situation was the type of situation that you would think of late at night and cringe because of how unpleasant it was. now he wasn’t sure how to return back to normalcy, the only way he could make things more bearable was when you weren’t right there next to him, reminded him of the mistake he made, leading you on as if you were some lost puppy. in the mornings it was equally as harsh. considering the two of you lived in the same neighborhood, literally just a mere four houses down. he noticed you in the morning as he walked to school, he noticed when you started to ride that stupid bike you fell on so many times to school, he noticed that damn paperboy riding alongside you with that usual friendly smile.

it had been around four days since you got the news you were moving. not knowing if you were going to move schools you had prepared yourself just incase. tearfully telling finney and the rest of your friends, l including paperboy who, for the record the two of you were just new friends. as a goodbye present finney had bought you a big bag of your favorite candy in hopes it’ll make you feel better. sure, it wasn’t the biggest gesture to the usual person but to you it definitely was. giving the boy a big hug almost suffocating him to death before taking the routes to your own homes. seeing as the living room was packed in boxes, so was the kitchen and the hallway knickknack’s. it made you sigh going up to your room to get a start on packing things away.

first you started to pack some little things like photos, birthday cards, letters. back, facing the door as you sat on your rug. the majority of these things included robin in these, from graduating preschool to just random photos the two of you would take whenever you felt like it. the more your hands flipped through the photographs the more tears started to flood the line of vision. it wasn’t just sadness, it was anger. he had known you all these years, the two of you had been through everything together, learned how to ride a bike, he taught you how to defend yourself. the list just goes on. and he just ended the friendship like it was absolutely nothing. what if it was nothing?

#the black phone 2022 #bruce yamada #the grabber #billy showalter #bruce yamada x reader #robin arellano #the black phone x reader #robin the black phone #robin arellano x reader #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper

[ina-nis]

“AvPD is (a subset of/worse/just/etc) Social Anxiety.”

I don’t know about other people but for me, once I was able to separate these 2 conditions and view them as their own thing, this phrase stopped making sense.

Obviously, social anxiety is one of the main symptoms of AvPD, it’s not the only one though.

The main symptom for me? Avoidance. Not out of anxiety but because I’m exhausted and apathetic. I seek to avoid pain and stress, among other things too. Talking to people and being around others is not the issue, although I do avoid it because of how much that drains me.

Another one is “AvPD is about fear of intimacy/commitment/vulnerability.”

Is it though? I wonder if that all is just fear of rejection in disguise. I’m sure many people with AvPD crave intimacy and commitment as these are some of the foundations for deep and long-lasting connections. And it’s hard to be vulnerable, indeed. It’s hard to share your vulnerabilities with others, even if that’s one way to open up and get closer.

To me, AvPD is about avoidance, apathy, social passivity, social fatigue, fear of rejection, self-deserting and self-destructive behaviours, among other things.

It’s about the connections that don’t go through, the bonds that fade or fail to form.

It’s about this unshakeable sense of alienation and otherness.

It’s about feeling unwanted and disposable, feeling like a backup plan and a convenience, feeling loved and cared for only from a distance.

It’s eventually building one’s self-esteem and knowing one’s self-worth and suffering with the disconnection that occurs even then, despite it all: “I deserve better.”

It’s asking oneself “what am I doing wrong?” and “what else do I have to change about myself?” and “how can I be enough?” and more, and not finding any satisfactory answer because when you change for others, you lose yourself; but if you better yourself, you alienate from others even more.

It’s about pure and unfiltered loneliness.

#avpd #avoidance #Avoidant Personality Disorder #avoidant #loneliness #inanis post

[tarithenurse]

A little update on my personal situation:

It's going better. Since mid August I've been in a dip which first started out with my usual depression symptoms but then the anxiety flared up too with a lot of selfdoubt and negative thoughts etc etc.

Why?

Oh, I know exactly what the trigger was: hubby got a new job (yay) that has him working in the other side of the country so I only see him weekends (boo). It's an amazing job for him with lovely colleagues, challenges, learning, etc (yay). But it means I'm alone from Monday to late Thursday (boo)...and I do not do alone well. Oh and then there are the weeks where he's off to other countries without coming home in the weekend.

The obvious answer would be to focus on my own work, pick some extra shifts or maybe go be social with people.

That's where the anxiety kicks in: stimuli (noises in particular) and people (apart from a very select few) has me breaking down. I can't work more than 30 hours a week and the day shifts I used to have are hell on earth where I either have to go home early or lock myself up somewhere.

Thankfully I have a good boss. She's helped me change my day shifts to night shifts where it's a lot calmer and quieter and I don't get triggered.

I've also gotten a sort of "special rule" from the public healthcare that means if I call in sick with my chronic illness (depression/anxiety) at least my workplace will be compensated somewhat from the first day sick instead of after two weeks - that means the anxiety about being away from work is less for me because it feels like I'm screwing over my job less.

And so I've spent the time with night shifts, finding a way to keep my marriage working with intermittend long distance, intensified my psychologist appointments and worked (am working) with my new psychiatrist to change and balance my medication.

What has that all led to?

My symptoms of depression are under control. My marriage works (although I miss him often and there always is the fear that he'll find someone better and closer than me (history of cheating by ex)).

But my anxiety is fucked up. It's better...but far from good enough. I can't handle public transportation. I can't handle parts of my family. I can't handle the few dayshifts I do have even if I'm not part of patient care but rather just go around filling up closets etc.

I've had my depression since 2005. The anxiety is fairly new (just a few years) and it's had a tendency to get more severe with each dip. And I don't know how to handle it - at this rate it'll put me out of work in a few years and that thought alone just makes it even worse because I can't have that happen. I don't WANT that to happen.

Okay....I have to stop thinking about that.

My new psychiatrist is good. He listens. I have amazing support from my husband who goes out of his way to call and write when he's gone. I have similarly great support from my mom and one of my sisters, particularly when I'm alone.

........and still it feels so hopeless. The only activity that brings me joy is D&D-related things. I can't write fanfics anymore. I can't draw. I can't go outside my door. I can't go for a cup of tea or dinner with friends. I can't even do grocery shopping. I just get so desperate, y'know?

But...it is BETTER than it was.

#mental health #depression #anxiety #social anxiety #blerb #personal #mental disorder #mental disability #rant #update #medication #send help