#it makes perfect sense to me that he would fall for someone who treats his feelings as important...who treats him like a person!

[forcedhesitation]

it’s completely bananas to me that halsin's sex scene features a moment where he somehow loses control of his druidic powers and wildshapes into a bear, because he’s apparently that horny. like...gale had to be infected with a mindflayer tadpole for him to make mistakes in his spellcasting, even though he already carried a small nuclear bomb of evil, weave-consuming magic in his chest. what THE fuck is halsin’s excuse? like, as funny as it is for an archdruid to be so overcome with lust upon seeing a tdick that he loses his grip on his abilities, it makes absolutely no sense! what do you mean that this guy has enough power to open a portal to the shadowfell, and rescue a little fey boy from it, but he can't control his wildshaping because "bear horny?" HUH?

#bg3 #thoughts about media #the more I think about halsin and SH. the more I grow resentful of their writer in specific. #genuinely. what the hell was this guy thinking. #like how is this scene meant to be sexy? #as a monsterfucker- I GET the appeal of a man fighting his “inner beast” to be with his partner. #but it doesn't come across that way in the halsin scene. it feels...silly? nonsensical? #he's an extremely powerful druid....losing control of his wildshape because he's aroused makes him look...immature. #is the appeal of halsin not that he is an experienced but lonely older man? #when confessing to your player character- he expresses his appreciation for the care with which the PC has treated him. #which I LOVED because it developed upon that initial dialogue of his where he reveals how alone he really is! #his family is all gone...so he only had the grove. #but the people at the grove held him in such high regard...it was like he wasn't a person anymore. just a “leader.” #it makes perfect sense to me that he would fall for someone who treats his feelings as important...who treats him like a person! #but the sex scene devolves so rapidly into...god...something out of a badly written fanfic? #honestly- forget the wildshaping. your PC should have had the opportunity to top halsin. #it would have made MUCH more sense given why he's even attracted to your PC in the first place.

[lenaellsi]

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2 #long post

[cranberryjuice-posts]

-She likes a boy-

Pairings - clarisse x fem! reader

An - You like a Boy clarisse likes you

You laid on top of clarisse as you continued to swoon over her brother. As you continued your love sick antics clarisse had been debating for the past half hour on taking her spear and using it to put herself out of her misery.

“You realize he leaves his underwear around right” clarisse scoffed and inspected her now polished spear with her free hand wrapping itself around your waisr. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Whatever”

“The other day though henry he came up to me right!” You continued now sitting up on the girls toned waist, she just nodded following along. “He’s like 5’10 right and so I was trying to-”

Clarisse Just tuned you out, she didn’t understand what you saw in her brother. He was loud rude a player and so what if he was 5’9 she was 5’10 big shit. It’s not like height matters anyways. She knew someone like henry didn’t deserve you— shit she was pretty sure no one deserved someone as perfect as you.

“— and then he kissed me! He’s just so- Clarisse your not listening” You complained which brought the girl back to earth.

“I was” clarisse spoke in retaliation.

“Oh yeah? What was I talking about hm”

“Uh.. something dumb about Henry helping you grab a book or something” she sarcastically spoke. You rolled your eyes, “Common lise at least try to be intrested I need your support since this is your brother, I can’t do this without you” you grabbed her cheeks squishing them softly while looking down at her. Clarisse knew she was always gonna loose when you gave her those eyes.

“Fine..” she sighed giving in. Anything was worth it if you smiled, to her atleast.

——

The following day as clarisse spun her spear in the arena you ran up to her and jumped on her excited.

“Holy shit!” Clarisse yelled as she caught you. “Dude I—” She started to go on a lecture before you squeeled excited. “Clarisse guess what guess what!” You laughed while jumping up and down..

She calmed down and sighed watching you with a raised eyebrow. “Hm?” She responded trying to sound uninterested. “He did it! Henry finally asked me out! Oh my gods it was so romantic” you continued excited.. clarisse tried to be happy for you but the overwhelming sense of dread sat in her stomach. “—And then he grabbed my waist and pulled me into a Kiss!!”

“That’s great babe” she spoke quietly,calming down you gently grabbed her arm your cheeks still flustered. “Did I say something?“ you chuckled worriedly

Clarisse nodded while putting up a façade. “Nah course just thinking of a way to threaten Henry to treat you right” she spoke in her usual aggressive tone. You rolled you eyes and teased the girl to not kill her brother.

You eventually left, she sat down on a bench near by while letting out a deep sigh. She didn’t know what the hell you saw In Henry that she didn’t already have.

———

The next few months were living hell for clarisse. How Henry talked about you behind closed doors, only sexualizing you. The way you would run up to him in the mornings instead of her like you use to.

How you two snuck off to makeout somewhere after hours. She hated how much she just hated your relationship. Your were a half Greek demigod who had the most beautiful face she’s ever seen, it pissed her off how you wasted your strawberry lipgloss on some boy who liked the chase..

At this point clarisse didn’t even know why she was angry .. you weren’t even her girlfriend.

-

You were at the nightly bond fire, cuddled up to Henry that you didn’t noticed how he was stairing off at other girls. Clarisse however did. She got up and jerked Henry’s shoulder back making you sit up and him almost fall.

“Clarisse what the fuck!” He yelled, Henry started to fix his jacket rather than check if you were ok.

“Let’s Go we Need to talk” she grabbed his arm not letting him even get a word in.

Clarisse threw her brother against a tree before quickly spinning her spear off her back and stabbing it into the tree by Henry’s head. “You keep on fucking around with y/n and if you break her heart” she turned her spear in the tree starting up it’s electric current— finishing her threat for her.

Henry laughed in response calling clarisses bluff. “Your just mad that she wants me and not you” Clarisse furrowed her eyebrows before giving him a misleading smile.. she backed up pulling her spear out of the tree. She looked up at the spear watching the electricity fly out of it. “Know what, your right.. I am mad” she looked back with a smile before jabbing her spear into Henry’s gut.

Clarisse returned to the campfire, she place she jacked around you once she realized how cold you were. “Thanks” you smiled at her, leaning on her shoulder once she sat down. “Wheres Henry” You asked confused.

Clarisse wrapped a hand around your waist. “Oh him? He got sick needed to go back to the cabin”

“Oh.. we’ll tell him I said love you when you go back ok?”

“Mhm ok”

———

Reluctantly she let you go so you could return to your cabin. Clarisse watched as you left, sighing she turned around however only to be met with silena.

The daughter of Aphrodite had her arms crossed while looking up at clarisse angrily. “Your not sly”

“Wasn’t trying to be”

“I saw you clarisse” silena gave her a harsh look. Clarisse bit the inside of her cheeks embarrassed and irritated. “Don’t know what your talking about” she continued.

“Stabbing your brother with your spear might make you remeber” she stepped closer to the girl. “Your my bestfriend and so is y/n, if you love her then tell her but don’t hurt her boyfriend and your brother.”

Clarisse looked down at silena not wanting to step down from where she stood. “It’s not That easy silena”

“And Why’s That?”

“Because did it ever occur to you that she likes a boy and incase you didn’t see I’m not a fucking boy”

Clarisse shoved past silena not really caring to be gentle. She was just gonna have to deal with the fact that, she was yours but you weren’t hers.

#Spotify #lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom #percy jackson fanfiction

[sinofwriting]

jealousy, jealousy - Max Verstappen

Words: 992 Summary: Max has to watch as his somewhat new girlfriend is comforted by the guy that introduced them. (Takes place at some point in 2017) Note(s)/Warning(s): Sounds more angsty than it is, Happy Ending, Panic/Anxiety Attack, Max has uno brain cell in this

Taglist | Masterlist 

Max can feel panic of his own building inside of him, but he pushes it away, down, focusing on her. He’s got her tucked into his side, making it awkward to walk, but it’s better than letting her panic more from loud sounds of the crowd and perhaps the sight of it.

Ushering her into his driver's room, he carefully pushes her to sit on the couch. She makes a slight panicked gasp that has him jerk forward, but she pulls her legs up wrapping her arms around them and tucking her face into her knees. He can’t see the tears falling from her eyes but he knows that they are there. Knows it from the quick movement of her chest, the way her whole body moves as she breathes, and the slight wheezing breathes she’s taking.

He doesn’t know what to do, his hands are fluttering around uselessly at his sides and front, his brain can’t come up with anything to say, he doesn’t know what reassuring words to use or if she even wants them.

“I-,” he winces at the voice crack. No one told you that you’d still be getting voice cracks at twenty and it was rude as far as he was concerned. “What can I do?” She takes a shuddering breath. “How can I help?” “I,” his heart jerks inside of his chest, “Daniel.” It stops, confusion gripping him. “I need Daniel.” “Oh,” and something inside him breaks a little, but he pushes it away though that is harder to push away than his panic that was still lingering. “I’ll be right back with him.”

He nearly runs to the room where he knows that Daniel is, not caring that he’s interrupting a conversation with his family. And all it takes is her name for Daniel to hang up and be following him to his drivers room.

Max watches as Daniel quickly kneels in front of the couch, his voice low as he whispers comforting things, most likely. The sight has Max swallowing harshly and he shouldn’t but a spike of jealousy hits him when she lifts her head just to check that Daniel is actually there before sobbing again.

He shouldn’t be jealous. The only reason he even got to meet her was because she was a friend of Daniel’s, a long time friend, despite being the same age as Max, that traveled with him everywhere. And they hadn’t even been going out long. They had only just hit the five month mark.

It made perfect sense that she would want the comfort of someone who has know her longer and has dealt this before, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy and hurt from building when Daniel manages to get her to lift her head up and away from her knees and then a hug that has to be strangling the older man’s neck.

“Ya feeling better, little badger?” Daniel asks, a few moments later. She nods, pulling away slightly, arms finally loosening from around his neck, and Max feels a weird sense of delight in the way Daniel takes a quiet sigh of relief. “A bit.” She murmurs sniffing. “Want me to get you some water? One of those treats you like?” She starts to nod her head before shaking it. “No, I just want Max.”

And all the hurt and jealousy that had filled Max leaves at the sound of his name.

“Alright.” Daniel chuckles, patting her head, before pushing her back to sit properly on the couch, standing up, he waves Max over. “Thanks for getting me, mate.” Daniel whispers, stopping him before can sit with her and she watches the two curiously. “Of course.” Max murmurs. “No really, thank you. She doesn’t get them often, but the last guy she was with,” Daniel stops, shaking his head with a scoff. “He didn’t think that she needed her big brother for something like that when she had a boyfriend. So thank you, Max.” He pats the younger driver again. “I’ll be back with some water for her.” Max nods blankly, brain swirling around the words big brother, as he sits, mechanically lifting an arm for her to go under and cuddle up to him.

“Are you mad?” Her quiet voice breaks him out of his revelation of her and Daniel being brother and sister and how much more everything makes sense with that fact. “No.” He reassures, pulling her tighter against him and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No, I’m not mad at you.” “You’re acting weird.” He wants to protest, deflect, wishes that Daniel would just come back already, but he doesn’t. “I uh, I didn’t know that you and Daniel were siblings.” She tenses against him. “What?” He chances a look at her but doesn’t know what to make of her blank expression. “I just, I don’t remember when meeting you, him introducing you as that. I figured you were just a close friend.”

The room is silent before it suddenly fills with her laughter and he can’t help but smile even though it’s at his expense.

“You really thought,” she’s folding over as she’s laughing and laughter of his own starts to spill out. “I did. I don’t know how I missed it.” “Oh, sweetheart.” She laughs, wiping at her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He flushes at the compliment. “I wouldn’t say cute.” “Well I would.” She says, before pressing a kiss to his cheek, just missing the corner of his lips. “And I think that matters more, don’t you?” He nods.

“Alright, I’ve got you some water and I’ll be tucking you in tonight.” Daniel announces when he comes back into the room. “You got your ducky jammies?” “Ducky jammies?” Max repeats. She glares at his teasing words, before grinning, eyes lighting up and dread instantly hits him but before he can stop her, she’s shouting. “Max didn’t know I was your sister!” “Max didn’t know what?”

@ireadthensuetheauthors @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @crystals-faith @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @boiohboii @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @skepvids @bibliosaurous

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

[grapejuicestyless]

Can You See Right Through Me?

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You, Belly and Stevens older sister, realize that as everyone grows older, you have become less and less important. Suddenly, everything you’ve never felt comes crashing at you.

The past summer and every single one before that had led me to this moment now. Standing alone in an empty room in the dark while everyone else ventured off to a bonfire.

It was like a switch had went off in my brain, coming down here this summer. Everything I knew becoming wrong. Everything I was so sure of becoming the unknown.

I thought I knew everything, but I knew nothing. I was wrong about everything.

The way Jeremiah’s eyes carried a special sparkle as my sister and brother piled out of the car in front of me. His lips curled into that same pearly white smile and his eyes crinkling in the corners like always. His wrinkles a permanent tattoo of his life and his happiness that he carried with him.

I knew Belly was pretty. She always had been. I’d been the one to express that to her. Being her older sister, even by only a couple years, I could see it far before anyone else could. I could see how gorgeous my little sister was with her long brown hair and her contagious laughter. She would grow into herself, I promised her that and I couldn’t have been happier watching as she found that new confidence in her appearance the older she grew.

Still, the joy I felt for her could not overpower the sting that settled in my chest the moment I realized that Jeremiah’s warm welcome was not directed towards me like all the years before. His eyes drawn to Belly. The newer, prettier Conklin. The youngest, the most at ease with her surroundings. The one who took everything with a grain of salt.

And suddenly it made sense. If I was the stars in his eyes, then Belly was the sun. The bigger, brighter star. How could this boyish ray of sunshine fall for the more mellow sister when he had his perfect reflection right in front of him?

Realizing that was what caused the downward spiral, I think. That was the turning point and suddenly the switch went off.

I wasn’t ugly, I knew that. I once had a few boyfriends back home, all of which took great interest in me, but all of which never stuck. And it was obvious as to why. My head knew it would be good to try something new, but my heart was suffocating in the love I had felt for Jeremiah. I couldn’t love someone else if my heart belonged to another.

Only, Jeremiah’s heart belonged to Belly. It was obvious. The way they laughed. The way they talked. The way they touched. I wanted him to touch me like that. I wanted his arm slung around my shoulders and I wanted his hand resting on my thigh. I wanted him to whisper his secrets into my ears again. I wanted all of it, while Belly treated it like a chore.

Like she was bored by the constant affection and the strong attraction they had for one another. Yet, even with the heaviness in my heart, and the bitterness at the tip of my tongue, I wasn’t the one he was holding down on the beach. And that could never be me. I was the sister standing in my room back at the summer home, a bikini tied around my chest as a top, jean shorts hanging low on my hips while her fingers pulled at the skin on her stomach and pushed against her stomach to make it impossibly flatter.

A routine I’d developed since the beginning of summer. Sleeping in later, staying up longer. Skipping meals by accident and curling up as small as I could while everyone else ate dinner. It was almost as if I didn’t exist. And maybe I didn’t because it seemed like nobody cared.

That was my greatest fear. What started as a minor jealousy and a spiral of undiscovered insecurities morphed into a pool of fear. Not for how I looked, but for who I was. Now that everyone was growing up, now that Conrad and I were going off to college, would anyone still need me? Belly was confident now, she didn’t need my pep talks. My mom had her best friend and Jeremiah had Belly. Nobody needed me. Nobody cared.

Knock, knock.

Or I thought nobody cared.

“Hey, Conklin?” The voice was quiet, afraid to pierce the peacefulness of the silence.

My hands slipped away from my body, my posture straightening and my eyes making friends with the ground.

“Oh, hey. Aren’t you supposed to be at that bonfire with the others?” I didn’t make a point to turn around, staying stuck in place. “I didn’t want to be there.” He confessed.

“Oh.” His eyes caught mine in the mirror. Body leaning against the doorframe and hands playing with his tied hoodie strings.

“Besides, it’s boring without you there, you know? Don’t really enjoy being there without my beer pong partner.” We laughed, my eyes averting his quickly while it died down back to a comfortable silence.

Footsteps treaded across the furnished wood floors, socks padding carefully, closer.

“Hey.” The call was gentle and not in the slightest bit pushy or pressured.

I bit my lip, feeling suddenly naked with Conrad so close. My arms came to wrap around my torso like a blanket to shield my most vulnerable parts of myself.

“Hey, no. Come one y/n. Don’t do that. Don’t hide.” His hands found mine, covering them in his warmth, pulling away at each finger that dug into my skin slowly. Pulling off that divider I’d placed between us.

His head found my shoulder. His chin tucked comfortably on top of my shoulder blade, his arms hugging around my body, loosely, but enough to relay that he was there. He was close.

“What’s going on with you?” I felt his eyes looking at me, even from the floor. I shook my head.

“Nothing.” I lied through my teeth.

“I know you better than that, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” I nodded, feeling the tears piling on my waterline until everything was a watercolor version of itself.

“You avoid everyone but the moms and me. You don’t surf in the mornings anymore. You skip dinner to go be by yourself some more. You’re dropping weight scarcely quick. This isn’t like you. Something’s bugging you. Why can’t you just let me in?” My response wasn’t something I planned. His confession something I wasn’t prepared for. The low gravel of the mumbles. So quiet and normal that it was like he never even said it. But I knew he had because there he was, looking over my shoulder to watch me through the mirror. Admiring each part of what I had to offer like it was gold. How could I have been so blind to how much Conrad cared? How his touches lingered longer than before, how he cared for me like Jeremiah once did.

A sob wracked through my body, lips parting and chest heaving as I crumbled beneath his touch. My hands grasped onto his arms, clawing at him in panic. Trying to hold onto him. He let me hold onto him.

He lowered us slowly to the ground, his breath fanning off of my face and his body giving mine a home as I curled up impossibly close to him. Still it wasn’t enough. I needed to be closer, to not be alone. To not feel like the world was constantly out of reach.

It was beyond Jeremiah and Belly. It always had been. It had only been my wake up call to how quickly things were moving and how soon I would be unimportant. How soon I would be alone.

Conrad didn’t try to shush me, or talk to me. It was like a silent conversation, confirming all his suspicions. He always knew me better than myself. He always knew there was something wrong deep down. He always saw right through me.

I saw right through me.

It was hard to tell when the tears stopped and turned into dried out cries muffled into the collar of his shirt. Who knows how long ago I became dehydrated. But Conrad stayed put, sitting with me silently until my last cry came out in a soft sniffle.

Lifting my head, I looked to him, a mess. And I saw he was crying too. His eyes were just as wet as mine and his cheeks streaked with past tears. His lip didn’t quiver like mine, but Conrad was always better at holding it together.

So, he didn’t sob like me. No, instead of breaking down like I had when our eyes met, he pulled me in. And he didn’t let me go no matter how hard I squirmed. It was like he breathed me in. And suddenly, in the moment of silence, I heard a whisper against my hair. Only a short sentence, but one that meant everything. One that made me feel less alone as I realized Conrad felt the same way.

“Help me hold onto you.” He begged.

And suddenly, everything I was insecure of, everything that I had let slip, seemed unimportant compared to the boy on his knees for me.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #team conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher angst

[luveline]

Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars. 

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that). 

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly. 

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it. 

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap. 

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say. 

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it." 

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it. 

"That's a touchdown." 

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice." 

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want. 

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything. 

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush. 

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head. 

"You'll have to show me again." 

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend. 

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.) 

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket." 

"I hope he catches on fire." 

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices." 

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?" 

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her." 

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold." 

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade." 

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully. 

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter. 

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours. 

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.  

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans. 

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will. 

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism." 

"I have to share them," Will says. 

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced." 

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted. 

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Aches." 

"Can I have a look?" you ask. 

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone. 

You don't touch anywhere near the site. 

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty." 

"You're pretty." 

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?" 

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way." 

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you." 

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there. 

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you." 

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb. 

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand. 

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat." 

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively. 

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites. 

"Steve!" you say, laughing. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–" 

"Nice," you say. 

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N." 

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?" 

"Duh." 

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush. 

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises." 

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly. 

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay. 

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you. 

"I have one working hand left," you protest. 

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it." 

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar. 

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks. 

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes." 

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–" 

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow. 

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome." 

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

The not so Princely Prince Charming

A/n: @d3vilstower thank you sm for requesting this, this was such a good idea and I hope I was able to write it in a satisfying way!

Warnings: Angst, yelling, smoking, smut, fingering(f receiving), oral(f receiving), creampie, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You met Slash in high school. He was an introvert, always keeping to himself at the back of the class, though he was also a trouble maker. He’d fall asleep in class, his grades were dogshit and he respected pretty much no one and only had a few friends he barely hung around. Yet you saw something so indescribably perfect about him.

Since you were known as a good kid, getting good grades, being nice to everyone, you were often sat next to the ‘bad’ kids in hopes that your good behaviour would rub off on them. Of course this never worked but if it got you a seat next to Slash you were more than happy to comply.

Whenever he fell asleep you put your sweater under his head to use as a pillow. You’d write extra notes and give them to him, whether he used them or not didn’t matter, you just wanted a reason to talk to him.

Occasionally the teacher would call on him when he was sleeping in an attempt to embarrass him. He’d wake up all groggy, you’d write the answer on a slip of paper and discreetly show it to him. This infuriated the teachers, neither you nor Slash cared.

Slowly he grew fond of you. Not in the sense that he was starting to find you attractive, he’d just never had someone treat him like that and the initial lust was morphing to a deeper connection.

He started bringing you snacks and he’d keep track of your favourite ones so he’d remember which ones to grab next time he was out.

Then he started sticking around you between classes, since he preferred to be alone he managed to get you away from your friends so it could just be you two. It didn’t always work and sometimes you’d drag him to sit at a table and actually eat with you and your friends rather than smoke out by the benches in the field.

It was a codependence thing at first. He wasn’t good at being around people and you were, the extrovert adopts the introvert situation.

Your friends weren’t all too happy to be sharing a table with Slash, with his big hair and crunchy clothes. He just didn’t fit in and they didn’t think he was the best for you, and they told you so to your face in front of him.

You always brushed them off, saying something about how you were just friends. And you kept that line when they called you to talk about it while Slash was between your thighs, struggling to hold back moans as he ate you out like a man starved.

Slash only came over when you were home alone because your parents were conservative, they hated the whole rock movement and sheltered you from it as best they could. Luckily, Slash showed you every part of it, even educating you on parts that he didn’t particularly care for because he didn’t want to shelter you either.

While you didn’t tell your parents who you were dating, you did tell them you met a guy. Of course they wanted to meet him right away and get to know him, make sure he was the right match for you, or rather them.

You knew they’d never accept him but you wanted him to meet your parents. Slash had helped you distance yourself from the lifestyle your parents had raised you in but deep down you still felt the need to have their approval. So you planned a dinner.

You brought Slash over after school, it took some convincing since he didn’t care too much to meet your parents but now you were at your front door, holding his hand tightly as you rang the doorbell for your parents to answer.

Your dad opened the door with a smile that quickly faded as he eyed the man beside you. “And this is him?” He asked, looking to you for confirmation. Slash also looked at you with an expression that just read ‘I told you so’. You ignored him.

“Yes, dad, this is my boyfriend.” You said with a bright smile. Your dad let out a heavy sigh and grudgingly reached his hand out for Slash to shake.

“Well, I’m glad that I’m meeting you, Saul.” You took note of how he phrased it.

“Slash, sir.” Your boyfriend corrected him. By your fathers expression you could tell he didn’t like that.

“You’re Saul tonight.” He stated and walked back into the house. Slash looked to you again, you looked back at him with a soft smile and pulled him into your home.

Dinner went worse than you expected. Slash had tried to remain civil, he was polite and didn’t speak unless he was spoken to. It was your parents that did everything in their power to tick him off, complaining about degenerate kids who did nothing but cause trouble.

You’ll never forget that night. Not the way they yelled at Slash nor the way he yelled back. It was like something snapped in him. You’d seen him upset before but nothing compared to this, he’d always been so soft spoken with you, sweet and compassionate. This was totally different.

You were sobbing and ran upstairs to your room, Slash followed suit. He slammed the door behind himself and locked it. You stared blankly at him, tears streaming down your cheeks while he threw some of your clothes into a bag.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked, voice shaky and weak.

“Packing.” He said in a firm tone, his voice raised.

“Why?”

“We’re fucking leaving!” He yelled, tossing the bag to you. It landed in your lap with a thud. Slash came over and held a hand out for you to take. “Now come on.” You hesitated. Could you really just pack up and leave your family?

Your parents started banging on your door, demanding to get in but you ignored them. Slash sat next to you, his hands on either of your shoulders. “Look, I’m not gonna up and leave you because you don’t want to come with me.” You sniffled softly as he said this and he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I’d just rather you come with me than be stuck with them.” You nodded in understanding.

Slash pulled you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you.” You mumbled. Slash stuttered in his movements for a second before squeezing you gently.

“I love you too.” He kissed the top of your head.

After that night your parents forbid you from seeing him anymore, even going as far as to tell your friends to keep an eye on you which you didn’t know about. You found out after bringing Slash over to eat lunch with you and your friends, that night it started an argument between you and your parents.

They made you switch schools so you wouldn’t have as much easy access to your relationship. They gave you strict schedules filled with extracurriculars to keep you busy and away from Slash. You still found your ways together, late at night you’d sneak out with him just to wander around.

As time progressed you drifted apart. It was no one's fault, the both of you simply happened to leave it. Maybe it was too hard on you, maybe his feelings for you faded. You never forgot him.

You found another man, one your parents approved of. You said you loved him, told everyone and yourself that, but he was just a cheap filler for the cavity left by Slash.

You watched from afar as Slash’s band took off, hearing about all his relationships, the things he got up to. You bought every magazine Guns N’ Roses was featured in, bought posters and their albums. Anything to bring little bits of Slash back into your life.

The man you met proposed to you with your whole family watching, of course you couldn’t say no. You wanted to, oh how badly you wished you could’ve told him and everyone else off for ruining your chance at love.

He never approved of your little ‘hobby’ as he called it. Always making jokes that seemed to cross a line every time. But you couldn’t say anything about it. This was the life your family wanted for you, a good man with a good paying job to support you and your soon to be family.

Your mother was happiest about this and helped you plan the wedding, which was really just her planning everything while you sat pretty for her, fake smile and all.

The wedding neared and you dreaded every day of it. You started getting rid of all your Guns N’ Roses things, knowing there was no use in keeping any of it anymore. You got into a routine of making three meals a day, getting a glass of whiskey ready for your soon to be husband every day after he got home from work.

You walked up the aisle in a dress you never liked, between families you never wanted, to a husband you never loved.

The priest went over the whole ordeal, asking for the vows. You’d memorised what your mother had written up for you. She needed this day to be perfect for her own little fantasy.

“And do you, Y/n L/n, take H/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest asked. All eyes now on you as you stood at the end of the chapel, white wedding dress adorned as if you were innocent a day after you met Slash. You knew you should say it, it’s what everyone wanted.

You glanced at your parents and saw the fury in their eyes. You looked up to your fiance, his eyes sharing a similar glower. If you said yes now he’d never forgive you, you’d regret it every day of your life.

You shook your head, dropping the bouquet of pristine flowers in your hands and ran down the aisle, holding your dress up to keep from tripping over it. Everyone called for you to come back, a few even standing to run after you. Hands reached out for you, all of which you managed to avoid with the adrenaline rushing through you in the moment.

The grand doors opened and the cool air hit you. Right outside was a fancy black car you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Slash stepped out of the driver's side and stared at you, eyes wandering up and down your body in pure admiration for your beauty. “That dress looks like shit on you.” He said. You smiled, tears streaming down your cheeks as you ran to the car, quickly getting in the passenger seat.

Slash got back in, his arms going around you and pulling you in for a kiss. All those feelings you’d been trying to leave behind rushing back to you as his hands roamed your body, tugging at the uncomfortable wedding dress you’d been put in, plush lips meshing so perfectly with yours.

Your mother calling your name from the chapel doors is what caught your attention and you pulled away from Slash. “Drive.” You ordered.

“What?” Slash asked, caught off guard from the sudden loss of contact.

“Drive!” You repeated as your mother neared the car. Slash wasted no time in getting you out of there, ignoring the speed limit as he drove.

“Could you slow down?” You asked, reaching for his hand to get his attention. “You’re gonna get pulled over.” Slash shook his head.

“Don’t care, I can pay off a ticket.” You looked over to him and it really hit you. He came back for you. This was Slash. The boy you’d seen falling asleep in class, who got you snacks and followed you around because he didn’t know where else to go. The kid who gave you your first cigarette and laughed when you started coughing. Who held you when you cried.

Except now he was Slash, guitarist of big band Guns N’ Roses, travelling the world and fulfilling his dreams.

“Why’d you come?” You finally asked. You needed an answer after everything. He never tried to contact you. You never tried to contact him either.

His eyes flickered to you then back to the road. “Because I love you.” He said as if it was just yesterday you said that to each other for the first time. “I saw it in the papers that you were getting married to some guy, even in that picture I could see you didn’t want to be there.”

You held his arm close, clinging to it as he drove, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” He kissed the top of your head and kept driving.

“Where are we going?” You asked when you realised you didn’t know where you were.

“My place.” He said simply. “Your family doesn’t know where I live.” You smiled and kissed his cheek.

You’d seen pictures of his house before. At night you’d think of what it would be like to live there with him. When you closed your eyes you could almost pretend he was holding you in that house, that smell of musky cologne and cigarettes washing away all your worries. Then you’d open them and still be stuck living this life you never wanted.

His house was much bigger in person. In a rich neighbourhood, surrounded by forestry. He drove up the long driveway and parked the car, getting out before you so he could open the door for you. He reached for your hand to help you out but you waved it off. “I can get out by myself.” You reminded him, he just smiled lovingly at you and held the door open.

His arm went around your waist, holding you close as he guided you into the house. As soon as the door closed he was on you again, lips crashing together, hands groping each other.

Your hands lost in his hair, tugging on it and pulling him in just as you used to, now with more need than before. Slash pulled at your dress until it ripped, tearing it off of you bit by bit. “Stupid fucking dress.” He grumbled in your ear. “Should’ve been me standing there with you.” He kissed down your neck, over your bare chest after he flung your bra away.

He cupped your chest, kissing, sucking and pinching your nipples, your back pressed against the door as he slid down your body. He looked up at you as he took off your panties and garters, watching every reaction you had as he started licking between your folds, tongue flicking your clit and dipping into you.

His hands held your thighs in a tight grip, one hand letting go so he could finger you and get you ready for him. Your hands were still in his hair, holding his head to your cunt as your hips buckled. Your legs were weak and you couldn’t care less, you were finally getting what you’d been craving for years.

Slash could feel when you were close, how your gummy walls fluttered around his talented fingers. He sucked on your needy clit, tongue flicking it repeatedly until you called out his name, a string of curses following it.

Slash got out of his clothes in a lustful haste to have more of you. He stood and grabbed you, pulling you tight to him as his lips met yours again. You pulled at each other, Slash picked you up and your legs wrapped around him. He stumbled over to a table, pushing into you and starting with an already brutal pace.

You bit his neck and he stumbled back, pushing you up against a wall when he regained his balance. He fucked into you like a mutt who’d found a bitch in heat. Loud moans left you while Slash’s grunts and groans rang in your ears.

He took a step back and nearly toppled over but managed to get you over to the couch. His face was in the crook of your neck, thumb rubbing your clit while his other arm held you to him, hips snapping into you harshly.

You moaned out his name, nails digging into his back. That knot came back in your gut. “Fuck! Slash-Slash, ‘m-’m close.” You whined, clawing at his arms. Slash sat up, lifting your hips over his and grabbing your arms, your knees hooked over his shoulders as he fucked you.

“Been waiting to see that pretty face cumming for so long.” He mumbled through gritted teeth. “Bet he never made you feel as good as I can, hm? Always pretended it was me with you, didn’t you?” You nodded, eyes rolling back as you came around his cock.

After being apart for so many years you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t process anything that was happening other than shocks of pleasure rocketing through you over and over again, Slash’s pretty fucked out face looking down at you when his eyes weren’t shut our rolling back.

Slash was barely conscious himself but he wasn’t done. Both of you were crying from the overstimulation, the couch was ruined and Slash had lost any sense of rhythm a while ago, only focusing on cumming again. Cum was smeared over your ass, his hips and abdomen as well. The room filled with the sound of wet skin and whining.

Finally Slash’s hips came to a halt as he came again, this time he let himself doing, laying his whole weight on you. You were both breathing heavy, hearts pounding.

After a moment you heard Slash sniffling. He moved up and lazily kissed your cheek, that was all he could manage. “I love you.” He whispered in your ear. “And no one’s gonna take you from me again, alright?” You nodded weakly.

You stayed there on the couch for the night. It was a mess, you were sticky and gross, so were Slash and the couch. Neither of you had the energy to move or clean up in the moment, even if you wanted to you found yourself asleep before you could make up your mind.

You awoke the next morning in a bed, all cleaned up and in clean clothes. Not your clothes but Slash’s. A band tee that was a few sizes too big for you and the panties you’d had on the day before.

Slash wasn’t with you but you heard music coming from downstairs and figured that’s where he was. You started getting out of bed but your knees buckled and you had to sit down again.

The bedroom door opened and your favourite boy came in with a bed table full of food. “You’re up.” He said with a smile. He came over and sat next to you on the bed.

“You learned how to cook?” You asked, seeing the small feast. Slash laughed and shook his head.

“No, I ordered out.” You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and started eating, giving you a few bites here and there when he saw you weren’t eating. “Not hungry?”

You shook your head. “Just tired.” You said, kissing his cheek. Slash nodded but continued to give you bites, still wanting to make sure you ate.

You talked about everything that’s been going on in your separate lives, catching each other up on everything. Slash constantly assured you you wouldn’t have to go back to anyone, that you’d be safe with him and he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from him.

Finally you had that happily ever after you’d been looking for, that prince in not so shiny boots with a guitar instead of a sword, a tour bus as his trusty steed. You didn’t care, he was yours at last and he finally had his perfect girl under his arm.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #gnr #slash #guns n roses imagine #slash guns n roses #guns n roses fluff #slash fic #slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash smut #slash angst #slash fluff

[eldritch-spouse]

Currently you're sitting at a table with your master, waiting on your meal. You have complicated feelings on Nebul. He doesn't necessarily treat you badly, he takes care of you but that's because you've been cooperative, you've seen him less gentile…..

The chef walks on by dragging a man screaming and wailing. His eyes look searching for someone, until they fall on you.

“Help me!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “He's going to kill me!”

You are no savior, you have no power here. You look down at your lap, hearing his cries for help become more and more distant. Dread and despair grows in your heart.

[I can write this out from his perspective.]

Nebul enjoys pets like you.

One might glance at him and think that perhaps the trainer would prefer a real brat. Someone who stomps their feet, bitches and whines and spits. The kind that just won't take it lying down and nearly breaks themself in their effort to be free of his controlled dominance.

But they'd be quite mistaken.

Nebul loves a pet who instantly recognizes their place. A darling thing like you, smart enough to realize that you have no chance of ever escaping intact, and thus, become subservient to your rightful master. You know Nebul will protect you, will provide for you, because you're learning to be the perfect pet he's training you into on a daily basis. There's something just insanely satisfying and obscenely arousing about your immediate submission to Nebul, he savors it slowly, preens you, makes sure you'll last him long.

Many were the tests you've been subtly subjected to since your time under his care. Some were elaborated to get a feel for your character, others for the amount of progress in obedience and loyalty you've developed. The undead quickly adjusts his methods depending on your performance, though you've been nothing if not stellar thus far. Very impressive, very good.

This moment is both another test and a reward. You have earned yourself time outside of the shop, time watching others, pretending to be a member of a community. Not that this particular community sees you as anything but a breathing toy, but he knows it's enough to bring a semblance of comfort to a contact-starved psyche like yours.

See, tonight you're having dinner at The Clergy's restaurant. And the place is quite packed, much to Nebul's distaste. His organism, unalive and magic-riddled, may not require food, but yours sure does. Nebul did take the care to make sure you will not be ingesting "human products", as he already ordered your meal a fair bit ago. Now, he's just making idle conversation and attentively mapping your reactions to seeing so many monsters ogling you like a steak. At certain times, it feels as if you want to sit next to him on the ground, where you have correctly learned is safest, and he glows with pride.

Many a client have stopped by and wordlessly pointed at you, every each one receiving a polite and consice explanation that you're not for sale or a free-use treat. He relishes the dread in your eyes, but even more so the relief. Gratitude that you had been picked by the wraith, and not some uncaring, sadistic entity looking to rip you open.

Yes, the sooner you understand how good you have it here, the sooner you'll drop silly ideas of escape and freedom.

Your rhythmic fidgeting with the silver tag of the collar around your neck is harshly interrupted by the sound of the closest elevator parting its doors, and a very angry monster stomping out, dragging a badly injured human man by medium-length hair.

Nebul senses the way your breath catches and a spike of adrenaline makes you pale, eyes wide, so tense you might pop.

He diverts his attention to Morell. The chef looks more than agitated, genuinely irate. It's not likely that the human actually managed to place a dent on that cinderblock of a monster, but it is a possibility that it outsmarted the chef in a moment of stressful workflow. And that, Nebul knows, will have the shroom smashing through furniture.

" Fuckin' pig! Ah was gonna make it smooth for ya, make it fast, ya wouldn' even feel much- "

The chef's apron is smeared with splatters of blood, what Nebul thinks might be some kind of sauce, and a decent chunk of dirt from the messy chase. The man, on the other hand, is bruised on the face and limbs, one hand bent at a bizarre angle and his ankles most definitely crudely twisted to a mockery of a ragdoll.

Even through the immense pain the undead can sense emanating from this human, the resilience commonly associated with this species shines clearly, as he screams and tries ever so hard to claw the mushroom monster's skin. Broken nails fail to so much as scratch the calloused pudge of his executioner's fingers, who are so tense around that mangled arm it might just explode.

He tries still, he tries, and will continue to for as long as his organism can supply a powerful dosage of adrenaline.

The mostly pointless squirming does succeed in one thing however, getting on Morell's nerves. Predictably, the chef turns around just enough to land a powerful steel-toed boot kick right to his middle, making the man wheeze like a dying animal. He seems to zone out for a moment, probably due to the immense pain wracking his body.

He doesn't zone out enough to miss you, the only other human present.

Nebul expected his frantic screaming, and he can't lie, part of the undead was looking forward to seeing how you'd react in a situation like this. Do you have any kind of wit in that cranium? It seems you do, because even when he's dragged by, pleading with all the remaining breath in his lungs for the help of his kin, for salvation only you can provide, you hardly react.

Aside from a light twitch of the limbs, as if you're trying to guiltily swat a mosquito away, you hang your head and focus on your intertwined hands on your lap. Your stare glazes, losing its alarmed quality, and your breathing becomes steady. You're effectively out of the scene.

Good.

Very good.

Morell makes an apology gesture towards the shopkeeper when he realizes that's the table he just walked past, eyes lingering on you with morbid curiosity before he slams the kitchen doors open and drags the drained human inside.

Nebul doesn't let you dissociate for too long. It's not the first time he's seen you do this, but he needs you quite present for this feedback. A grasp upon said clasped hands gets you to inhale sharply, shaking a bit. You glance at him with fear, as getting distracted in certain moments can earn you punishments.

" You've been performing exceptionally well. " He purrs. " With such exemplary behavior, you're on the fast track to perfection. Pets like you deserve rewards for their discipline, and you will get one once we're done eating. "

You nod hastily, fidgeting on your chair while you try hard to ignore the stains of blood on the floor.

Nebul's mist swirls playfully. " Now, what do we say? "

" I'm sorry, Master- Thank you, Master. "

" Very good. "

#Nebul oc #tce rp ask #Morell oc

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE LOKI LAUFEYSON HEADCANONS

Man here won't really realize that he's a yandere for you at first. When he starts spending more time with you, he slowly starts realizing that he's growing feelings for you but wait... what's this feeling of bubbling anger and rage when he sees other people talking to you and making you smile and laugh? Don't you know that you're supposed to show your wonderful and angelic smile and laugh ONLY to him and HIM ALONE!!? Oh wait... no you don't since he hasn't asked you out yet. Oops.

Anytime he sees someone trying to woo you over he'd be enraged and pissed as hell and even that's an understatement. Loki when he's angry would be really scary, as soon as someone sees his angry expression they'd start running in the other direction screaming their head off

He doesn't want to kidnap you at the first go, no. He strongly thinks that since he's the silver tongued one, and the god of smooth talk and everything, he can charm people pretty well and when it comes to you, he prefers it if you fall for him on your own. It would make things much easier for the 2 of you. And no, he will not care if you are a mortal, immortal, Avenger, SHILED agent, whatever it is. Once he lays his eyes on you he will not lose his sight on you

He'll only kidnap you if he thinks it's absolutely necessary like you were being flirted at and hit on too much to his liking and he was kinda scared of losing you. And he has a sense of insecurity that you'll leave him for someone like his brother since well... he's much the family's golden boy and perfect child. if at all he decides to kidnap you, he'd most probably make sure you're away from Earth since he doesn't want the Avengers at the back of him and plus, you can always think of it as an extended or permanent vacation with him or something

Even if he kidnapped you he'd still treat you like a queen and spoil you with his love and affection. He literally drowns in his respect women juice here and he'll respect your privacy if you need and want some time alone. True he might be clingy at times and act moody and grumpy but if you ask him for some time alone he'll gladly step back for a while. Only for a while though, but after that he'll be all over you again

If you keep trying to escape or keep defying him man here will not hesitate to discipline you and trust me when it comes to punishments, all traces of smiles will vanish and he'll be downright terrifying. He won't think twice of using his magic on you to punish you and make you apologize for your actions. You should be grateful and glad that you're being cared and loved for by a god and instead of basking in his love you defy him every single day!? He's beyond pissed and as for escaping, that's a complete no go since he would have cast really strong magic around the place he's keeping you in that'll prevent you from escaping. Even if you have powers, they won't be of any use for Loki's magic

But after punishments Loki's after care would be really nice and heavenly. He'll give you lots of hugs and kisses and tell you not to do it again and it pains him to discipline you like that but it can't be helped. He has to do what he has to do to keep you with him but don't expect him to apologize for doing that to you since in his eyes, you're the guilty one and the wrong doer

Now as for people who think they can steal you away from him, how can you not expect them to be dead as soon as they even look at you twice? Any piece of trash who looks at you or even breathes the same air as you doesn't deserve to live

So... yeah, just play your cards right and you'll live the life of a royal :)

#yandere loki #yandere loki x reader #yandere loki laufeyson #yandere loki laufeyson x reader #yandere loki laufeyson headcanons #yandere loki laufeyson imagines #yandere loki laufeyson oneshots #yandere loki laufeyson scenarios #yandere loki oneshots #yandere loki headcanons #yandere marvel characters oneshots #yandere marvel characters x reader #yandere marvel characters #yandere marvel x reader #yandere marvel #yandere mcu x reader #yandere mcu #dark loki #dark loki x reader #dark marvel #dark marvel x reader

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

Reflected in Someone's Eyes (Part 2)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: Astario’s POV after he waits to see what the reader has been working so diligently on since the mirror conversation.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: Fluff, embarrassment, feelings of unworthiness, mentions of blood/vampires/etc, minor spoilers, suggestive themes 

Word Count: 1243

Side Notes: E/C = Eye color, Y/N = your name, Y/R = your race, H/C = hair color

Part One

“Who knows? Only time will tell.” Y/N’s words rang through his head after that night. Quite a bit of events had happened to the party since the conversation Astarion had with Y/N that night, but the anticipation of what she had to show him was eating him alive. Tonight marked night three since he stumbled upon her engrossed in her mysterious book, and, after everyone had gone to bed for the night, Astarion waltzed his way towards his favorite tasty treat. She appeared as though she was waiting for him as she gave him a smile when he arrived at her tent entrance. 

“Goodie. You came. I finished my surprise.” The prideful smile on her face made Astarion’s undead heart skip a beat. He cocked an eyebrow at her whilst he spoke.

“Oh? Well, don’t keep me waiting darling. Let’s see what dark fantasies you’ve been dreaming of in that book.” Astarion held his hand out expectantly, but he was surprised when Y/N put a single sheet of paper from the book into his hand.

“It’s not perfect. It seems to be hard to capture the exact essence of your appearance.” Her words were barely a whisper as he looked at the intricate sketch of himself. He marveled at the care this woman had taken to try and capture even the smallest detail of his hair. “You are quite the frustrating subject to capture using pencils though.” He glanced from the picture to look at her, but she was looking at the piece of art in his hand. “You see, your hair at the top of your head lies a certain kind of way, and I have been trying ceaselessly to make sure I got that part right. Alas, I have done the best I could do, but it’s far from perfect.”

“Well, it is quite hard to capture perfection.” Astarion spoke softly as he softly looked at the woman beside him. He admired how her H/C was falling out of the bun, and how her eyes shone with a sense of accomplishment when she looked at her handiwork in his hands. 

“If I were back home, I would ask you to sit still long enough for me to try and paint a portrait of you.” Astarion knows his face gave away his shock. 

“My, my, my, my tasty little treat is also an artist. Who knew?” Even Astarion was shocked by the softness in his voice as he took a good look at his traveling companion. The days of travel had taken a toll on her, and the evidence was clear on her face. The long days and short nights had made her bright eyes shine just a little duller; the fight with the Githyanki had also left her with a few new cuts and bruises. She was not the same person he had held a dagger to her throat all those days ago, nor was Astarion the same person that he was when he met her.

“I do love art.” Y/N said, bringing Astarion back to reality. “I also love exploring new methods and stroke styles of the brush to see what effects it has with the paint. I’d honestly love to give painting you an attempt. If I hate it, then we shall invest in some gold for you to have a portrait done.” Astarion could see the genuine enthusiasm on his companion’s face, and he felt sick to his stomach. How could it be that a woman whom he was bedding for solely protection be so caring for him?

That’s right, Astarion thought, she has no idea that was my sole intention. But as the pale elf engraved the look of admiration on Y/N’s face and the gratefulness of such a sweet gesture somewhere deep in his mind, he felt guilty. He certainly didn’t deserve her kindness.

“Perhaps I may hold you up to that statement, darling.” The sincere words left his mouth. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he would love to have a painting of himself so he can see just how much 200 years of Cazador has affected his appearance. She gave him a heartwarming smile, but it faltered a bit as she looked over his face. 

“Why do you look like you’re guilty of something?” Her words made him frown slightly more than he had been previously. 

“Guilty? My darling the only thing I’m guilty of is looking too damn fine for you to capture on paper.” He casually said, but the pang of guilt still hung heavy on his chest. Astarion gave her his signature smile as he asked her if he could keep the picture she drew of him. She gave him a beautiful smile in response. 

“Absolutely. If I want to have a keepsake of you, I’ll just draw another one,” She gave him a wink, and Astarion chuckled. “I know it’s not as good as a mirror, but at least now you can see what your face kind of looks like.” 

“It does give me a good idea.” Astarion folded the paper and put it in his pocket, but he really didn’t want to fold the picture. He didn’t want to admit to Y/N how much her effort to give him a visual of himself touched his heart. He didn’t deserve this, but she is so selfless and willing to give him everything: her time, her art, her body, and her blood. “I shall see you later, my darling, for my nightly taste?” She gave him a small nod. 

“Unless you’d rather have some now?” Astarion smirked at her.

“Why not both?” He asked and she chuckled. “Kidding. But, I will take my taste now.” After he drank from her, he bid her good night. As he went to leave her tent, he turned back and looked at her.

“Thank you, again, Y/N. You continue to surprise me.” Afterward, he left her tent to go hunt for a delicious meal.

But that night, as Astarion lay in his bedroll, he took the picture out again to study it. He could see evidence of where Y/N had erased and redrew the top of his hair many times, and he could see she also struggled to get his lips just right. Moisture accumulated and fell from the corners of his eyes and onto the empty space around his portrait. Y/N was no professional artist, but she had attempted to sketch his portrait. She could’ve hidden it away too, kept it to herself until she perfected the very features she wanted to get right, but here her picture sits in his hands—fresh and far from the perfect picture. The pale elf wiped the water droplets off of the paper as he allowed himself to smile. Two hundred years of pain and torture, and this woman’s work over the last three days has sent an electric shock into Astarion’s chest; a shock that just might be enough to restart his heart. However, now that Astarion knew of his tasty friend’s talents, perhaps he could get her to draw more of him? The scars on his back had begun to weigh heavily on his mind since the night Y/N and Astarion shared. Maybe she would be willing to put on paper what secrets the scars on his back hold? But, for now, Astarion refolds the paper and puts it in the inside pocket of his backpack. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to the picture.

#astarion imagine #astarion fluff #astarion x reader #baldursgate3 #baldursgate3imagine

[cozage]

The Mystery Baker

A/N: just a morsel of Zosan Characters: Sanji x Zoro, but a few of the strawhats are included too :)  Total word count: 1.4k

Sanji hadn’t been off the boat for long. He only had to run and grab a few items from the island they had landed on, and he then had come right back, eager to wait on Nami’s and Robin’s every need. 

But when he entered the kitchen, the delightful smell of chocolate chip cookies filled his nostrils. On the cooling rack laid a dozen cookies, still warm from the oven. 

Cookies that he hadn’t made. 

Someone had been using his kitchen while he was gone.

He couldn’t think of anyone on the ship who would bake, especially while he wasn’t around. If anyone had needs, they simply asked him and he fulfilled them. He couldn’t decide if he should be annoyed someone used his space, or thrilled that someone was interested in the art of creating food. 

The cookies were still warm, but he picked one up and smelled it. They were made from scratch, he could smell the specialized ingredients in them. An over-indulgent amount of sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla, and a few ingredients he hadn’t expected to sense. Cream cheese, almond extract, and nutmeg..or was it cinnamon? It was so faint, he could barely make it out. 

Sanji bit off a small piece, curious how the flavors interacted with each other, and let out a soft moan from the taste. The cookies were a perfect mix of savory and sweet, the chocolate chips instantly melting in his mouth. 

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Sanji wasn’t sure if he could make a chocolate chip cookie that tasted this heavenly. The after flavors swirled and lingered in his mouth, making him fall in love with their creator without even knowing who they belonged to.

He shoved the rest in his mouth and plated a few to take along with him, eager to find out who had created them. It was clear that whoever had made this dessert had put extreme precision and care into the process. Such a feat was only handled by a woman’s gentle touch, so he set off to find Robin. 

“Robin, my love!” He sang as he danced over to her. “If you wanted to make sweets, all you had to do was ask!”

Robin’s eyes flicked up from her book and rested on the tray of desserts. 

“Cookies!” Nami called, walking up behind Sanji and plucking one from the plate. “Sanji, you really shouldn’t have!”

Nami took a bite, eyes rolling back in her head in delight. “You’ve really outdone yourself,” she praised, mouth still full. “These are amazing!”

Sanji gave a smile, pleased to see that Nami enjoyed them. But he couldn’t take the credit for them. “Actually, Robin-chan-”

“I didn’t make them,” Robin interjected, smiling as she watched Nami swoon over a dessert. “But I would like to try one, given Nami’s reaction.”

Robin tried to hide her satisfaction, but it was evident to Sanji that she had the same emotions towards the sweet as both he and Nami had. 

But now, Sanji was extremely confused. If it wasn’t Robin or Nami, then he wasn’t sure who had the capability to cook. In fact, there were probably only three other men on the ship who even knew how to use an oven, and he was certain none of them would have the touch to create such a delightful treat.

“Franky!” Sanji called, entering the workshop. “Did you use my kitchen while I was gone?”

Sparks flew from Franky’s project, but the cyborg stopped his experiment and turned his attention to the cook. 

“Oh hey, dude! Dinner time already?!” Franky set down his tools and brushed himself off, but Sanji shook his head. 

“Did you use the kitchen today?” Sanji asked again, holding up the tray of cookies. 

“Weird bribe, but no.” Franky took a cookie and threw it in his mouth. His eyes instantly sparkled, tears overflowing in an instant. 

“Hey man, these are like, the most super cookies I’ve ever had! Let me have another one!”

Sanji had a bad feeling in his gut now and quickly moved the tray away from the cyborg. 

“You’ll get better ones later!” he shouted, storming out the door and down the hallway. 

Nothing was making any sense. The only other person Sanji could see baking was Brook, but he didn’t even have tastebuds to make them. Everyone else was useless in the kitchen; worse than useless. 

Perhaps someone had snuck aboard and put poison in the cookies in an attempt to kill or weaken the crew. Perhaps a drug had been added to the mixture, and now half of the crew would be unable to fight if someone were to attack. 

That had to be the explanation. Even if he didn’t feel strange now, surely the effects would kick in soon. Of course nobody on the ship had cooked in his kitchen without his permission. Of course they had waited for him to get back. Of course he-

“What the hell are you doing with my cookies?” A gruff voice called from behind him, startling him from his thoughts. 

Sanji’s head swiveled around to find that annoying swordman glaring at him from down the hallway. 

The blonde scoffed. “These are not your cookies.”

“Like hell they’re not!” Zoro stormed toward the cook and snatched the plate from his hands. “I made them!”

Sanji reached for the plate, his anger rising. “You couldn’t make something this delicious, mosshead! Nice try!”

“What the hell do you mean?!” Zoro held the cookies just out of reach. “I made them while you were gone! I always make them while you go shopping!”

“I’ve never seen them here before!” 

Sanji lunged for the plate, but Zoro blocked him with his own body, and Sanji could smell the faint smell of vanilla and almonds on the swordsman’s skin. 

“I usually make them and eat them before you get back!” Zoro shouted, pressing his forehead against Sanji’s to keep him locked in place. “Don’t even give me shit about it, because I clean up everything and put it back before you finish your little island visits.”

His words gave Sanji pause. Being this close, Sanji could smell the chocolate and spices across Zoro’s breath, and for some reason he found himself flustered at his proximity to Zoro’s lips. 

He quickly ripped himself away from the swordsman, still glaring at him. There was no way that a shitty swordsman like him could create something sent straight from the heavens. Sanji refused to accept that. 

“And where exactly did you learn to bake like that?” Sanji shot back, trying to ignore the drumming in his ears.

“The dojo!” Zoro yelled. “We had a baking fundraiser every month to raise money! Now, do you mind? I’d like to go enjoy my cookies in peace!”

“Get out of my sight,” Sanji hissed, turning away from the swordsman. “And don’t use my kitchen without asking!”

“As if you’d ever realize I was in there!” Zoro yelled back, storming away. 

God, Sanji’s heartbeat was so loud in his chest, he was certain the whole island could hear it. And his face felt so abnormally hot that he had to go to the bathroom just to calm down. 

That damn swordsman was always pissing him off, making him worked up over things for no reason. He splashed some water on his face and checked himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still pink from how angry he was about the whole ordeal. 

He had been looking forward to convincing Nami or Robin to make a fresh batch with him by their side. He would have followed their every order and listened to their every demand. And once he had learned how to make them, those ladies would never have to work again. He would make them whenever they requested. 

But that hadn’t been the case. He couldn’t even admit that he was craving another one, because even just saying that would give the mosshead an overwhelming amount of satisfaction that Sanji refused to give him. 

He finally worked up the nerve to walk into the kitchen, where he found one chocolate chip cookie on a plate. A note lay next to it, and Sanji picked it up to read it. 

Since you thought they were so delicious, here’s another one. Will show you how to make them if you ask. 

Sanji had to admit, the idea of cooking with the swordsman by his side made his heart flutter.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #zosan #one piece zosan #op zosan #zosan fanfic #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro #sanji #zoro #✧˚zoro✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚

[raisedbythetv89]

To me, I don’t think Buffy or the audience can ever truly know if she’s in love with angel or just in attachment with him. I believe she is just in attachment and especially before innocence and after his encounter with the first, just full on enmeshment with him. No boundaries whatsoever, his pain is her pain (which is extremely common in parentified children who feel they have to protect their parents from their pain like what buffy does with joyce), just like how she describes her feelings towards riley later which is NOT a good thing, empathy is good, taking on others pain as if it’s your own is extremely unhealthy. (Yes I’m pulling on my psych degree for a tumblr post, human behavior and buffy are two of my special interests)

What I mean by “in attachment” is that she has all of the same anxieties and insecurities about angel that she does with her father. Angel’s erratic and unpredictable behavior plays on her anxious avoidant attachment style SO AGGRESSIVELY. He keeps showing up, giving her little information at all and even less about himself and then vanishing leaving her hanging, and anxiously wondering about him which can mimic thinking you’re romantically interested when really it’s just an unresolved problem you desperately want to solve. She has a lot of valid criticisms about him before they’re officially together about his inconsistencies, him treating her like a child, him being too old for her and then all of a sudden she’s saying she wants to die when they kiss and that she loves him (after he forces her to say she loves him before he’ll tell the truth about drusilla). That is exactly how falling into attachment goes. Once you’re hooked all your feelings that are caused by a bad relationship with a parent are projected onto the partner who you are unknowingly recreating that dynamic with which is why such intense and strong feelings can happen so quickly and suddenly you’re ignoring all concerns you had before forming this attachment with someone.

He’s not her soulmate, he’s just the first guy to treat her like her father did and if you don’t address that cycle the relationship is recreating it can be impossible to move on because they will ALWAYS feel like something is unresolved and if you don’t know why you feel that way you can misinterpret it as true love or destiny because why all would you suffer so much and still love them if it wasn’t? It’s a mistake SO MANY of us make in our romantic relationships and these portrayals of unhealthy attachments being sold to us a soul mates doesn’t help us at all.

She does it with Riley also but she walls herself off so she doesn’t get AS attached to him as she did angel but their relationship is still her trying to fix the relationship with her father by changing herself so maybe this time he’ll stay. It’s why his opinion still matters so much to her when he comes back in season 6 despite him being a truly awful person to her who has done nothing but make mistakes and whose opinion should not matter to her at all after everything he put her through. He is another pseudo father figure she craves approval from.

It’s why I love her relationship with Spike so much despite all the bad they go through before season 7. We know her feelings are real because Spike doesn’t play on her anxious-avoidant attachment at all because he is ALWAYS there even when she’s mean and claims she doesn’t want him there. And to me everything they do to each other makes perfect sense, their relationship is exactly what two people with severe trauma and one with anxious-avoidant and one with just anxious-attachment going into a relationship together looks like. You hurt each other A LOT because you’re working out all your issues with each other and they don’t have ANY help from a therapist or someone who can help minimize the hurt so they both just use their worst coping mechanisms and the fact that they go through all that and still get to be together and happy and healthy on the other side is just everything to me because that so rarely happens in the real world, where you get to be with the person who was also a catalyst for healing and having to go through all that suffering together only to have to start over -hopefully from a much better place - but still with someone else BLOWS. So Spike and Buffy to me are about hope and healing (including the unpleasant and very ugly, dark parts of healing people rarely talk about) and getting to do each phase of that with someone AND enjoy being happy and whole together is just UGHHHH I love it so much.

#spuffy

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Yandere Apollo x Boa Hancock!reader part 2.

-You could only scowl, feeling those filthy eyes on you again. You were used to being stared at- you were extremely beautiful so why wouldn’t others stare- but this was different, this was something disgusting.

-Apollo, since the day you rejected him, nearly killing him with a well-placed kick, had become even more enamored with you, wanting you for his own. You were perfection, and he was willing to worship you like the goddess you were if you would only let him!

-You didn’t mind being adored, but you were very violent firm with others who would get the courage to ask you out, as you were happily taken by Kojiro.

-Nobody could understand how a loser like Kojiro got someone like you, a being of perfection, an empress, the most beautiful woman in the world! It didn’t make sense on how!!

-You knew exactly how, Kojiro respected you as an empress, as a leader, but also as a woman, never demanding anything of you, treating you like the treasure you were, and he showed you that not all men were like those who had tortured you for so long when you were only a child.

-It was amusing to others, who were lucky enough to see, that you were completely different when you were with Kojiro, like a pure maiden, blushing, shying away, acting so stinking cute, smiling openly, and just being so much more beautiful than you already were.

-Apollo wanted that, he would see the cute faces you would make when you were with Kojiro, he wanted you to look at him like that, him and only him!

-There was just one thing standing between the happiness the two of you would share together, and that was Kojiro. Apollo wasn’t bothered, as he knew he could take the older warrior with ease, it would be easy to attack and kill him, staging it to be a tragic accident and then he would swoop in to rescue you from your tears!!

-Apollo was curious, however, on how Kojiro made you fall in love with him, he wanted to know what was so special about this old man that made you so happy.

-Apollo approached him openly, asking Kojiro to have a word with him, and Apollo was thrown off by how trusting and warm Kojiro was, instantly accepting the invitation.

-The two spoke on random topics, mainly so Apollo could gauge him, he was so goofy! But he was also extremely hardworking, never stopping, always pushing himself, it was admirable- it reminded Apollo of his own youth when he had to work so hard to get where he was.

-As the two men talked, not noticing the passing hours, Apollo grew to respect Kojiro, he could see that this older warrior wasn’t a loser, he was a respectable man, and he could see why you liked him.

-Apollo had to take a step back, reflecting on himself, on how he had been acting towards you, he wasn’t acting like the type of man that you would fall for.

-As the two men parted, Apollo beamed brightly at Kojiro, “I’m going to keep working- you’ve inspired me to be a better person! I now know I wasn’t being a good man, and I’m going to work hard and train!!”

-Kojiro was a little confused, waving the god off, curious as to what that was about as he heard you calling out to him, smiling brightly as he beamed, turning with his arms open, wanting a hug and you gasped, freezing as you leaned back, your hands covering your mouth, panicking if you were ready to take such a big step in the relationship!!

-The hug was so warm as Kojiro hugged you back when you finally got the courage to hug him, you couldn’t help but melt as he chuckled warmly, picking you up and easily spinning you, before inviting you out to eat and you couldn’t help but squeak in happiness, getting to go on a date with the man you adored.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror apollo #ror kojiro sasaki

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 9

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1.8 K

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), cyber-bullying/mean comments, SMUTSMUTSMUT (P in V, Fem receiving oral/fingering, hickeys, heavy making out, pet names, protection used!!!), you can not convince me that Chris isn’t a whimperer, self doubt, Not Edited

A/N: I’m sososososo sorry it took so long, I wanted it to be as good as possible. If anything doesn’t make sense, just chalk it up to my virginal status lol.

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

After patching things up with Matt, me and Chris decided to hard launch our relationship. It’s been two months since we went public, and the fans just seem to get more upset about it every day. Yesterday was our ten month anniversary, and the comments on our posts were horrific.

@ sturniolo.police

Do y’all think he just stays so she doesn’t kill herself?

@ Chris-Sturn-girlie

@ Sturniolo.police Probably, she treats her body like a kitchen counter… I would be scared too. I bet that’s the only reason why he even asked her out lol.

It was like watching a car accident, I couldn’t stop scrolling. I knew that it was stupid for me to think that dress was a good idea, but Chris picked it out specifically. The dress was a tight long sleeved crème dress. The issue was that it was fairly short, showing a large portion of my upper thighs. It was the first time since eighth grade that I felt comfortable wearing anything shorter than knee length, and less than 24 hours later I was severely regretting my decision.

“”“”“”“”“”

Now I stand in front of our mirror wondering if I should even go out with them tonight. The boys have a really important colab dinner, and I would hate for it to be ruined by people who don’t know how to be kind on the internet.

I look at myself and see someone I hate. The black short sleeve dress accentuates the jagged scars running across my wrists. I always tried to avoid spots that were hard to hide, but in that moment of desperation I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’m so caught up in my thoughts, that I don’t even hear the door open.

“Is everything okay?” I look up to see Chris behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist.

“I um… I don’t think I’m feeling up to going tonight… sorry.” He rests his head on my shoulder gently as he gives me a questioning glance. “I don’t want to ruin dinner, and everyone is already saying stuff about the scars on my legs… and if people find out I tried t-” I cut myself off before I could say the truth.

Chris turns me around quickly, looking deep into my eyes. “I don't give a shit what anyone else has to say, you are perfect for me… just as you are.” I try to protest, but he stops me before I can even get one word out. “But… if you don’t feel like going out tonight, that’s okay. I can tell my brothers to just go without us.”

I can feel my eyes burning, not from sadness or guilt, but from the realization that the man in front of me doesn’t care about anything but me. “You don’t have to miss it because of me, don’t feel like you have to stay home.”

In less than three seconds he’s putting his phone into his pocket. “Don’t be silly, I already texted the guys.” I hear the guys yell a quick goodbye and feel better from downstairs before the door closes and the car drives off. “Now… do you need any help getting out of that dress?” He gives me a quick kiss before turning me around so he can reach my zipper.

As soon as the zipper stops, my dress falls to a puddle on the floor. When I turn around I notice Chris’s eyes fall to the matching green butterfly set I have on.

When Chris finally meets my eyes again, his cheeks are a shade of red that I’ve never seen on him. “Like what you see, pretty boy?” Chris is a sputtering mess, trying to respond. I cut him off by quickly connecting my lips with his. His hands quickly find their way into my hair as he lifts me up by the backs of my legs, carrying me to our shared bed.

This wasn’t the first time me and Chris had ever made out, but something was different about this time. There was a hunger in each of us, that kissing couldn’t satiate.

Chris tossed me gently onto the bed before positioning himself above me and continuing our make out session. His lips slowly traveled down my neck, stopping for short moments, then continuing their assault until they landed on my collar bone. A moan left my mouth, much louder than I meant to, as my back arched off the bed.

“You like that baby?” Chris groaned into my ear.

“mhm…” My brain went blank as he made his way down to the valley of my breasts. “Please…”

“please what, ma?” He looks up to me with a mischievous grin.

“Touch me… please.” I practically whine out, upset that he stopped kissing me. Chris quickly taps my side, signaling me to lift up as he unclasps my bra in one swift movement. My bra is replaced with Chris’s hands before I even register that he removed it. He continues to leave wine colored marks across my breasts, while his hands squeeze in the most beautiful ways.

After what feels like an eternity, i feel Chris's hot breath moving down towards my waistline. He glances up at me quickly before turning his head toward my inner thigh. I feel him lift my leg up, over his shoulder, before he resumes his mission. "Did you know that your legs are my favorite part of your body?"

“no they aren’t.” I accuse with a small giggle. I never realized how ticklish my legs are. He quickly sucks on a spot, that will surely be a dark shade of red tomorrow morning, causing my brain to malfunction.

When he stops, I look down to see him looking at me with his big, blue, puppy dog eyes. He toys with my waistline, before finally opening his mouth. “Is this okay?”

I've never responded quicker, nodding my head aggressively while mumbling out a quick please and thank you. It takes him no time to get my panties off, and onto the floor. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“yes… just please touch me!” I’m practically begging when he decides to indulge me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, seeing as I’ve never even ‘helped myself’. Whatever I expected, this was much better. The second he latched his lips onto my clit, I was seeing stars. My whole body felt warm and tingly, and I think I’m close. I quickly intertwine my fingers into Chris’s hair, pulling with the rhythm of his tongue. All of the sudden I feel a long thin finger entering, and I can’t stop the sudden sensation that was building inside me. I couldn’t even get out a full sentence without a loud, almost pornographic moan interrupting me. The second I feel a second finger, I loose all control over my body. My back arches off the bed, as my legs slam shut around Chris’s head. Once I manage to calm myself down, Chris slowly removes his fingers from inside of me.

“Having fun?” I see him wiping his hand against his pant leg, his lips still glistening with me. I don’t think I have the strength to speak, so I simply nod. “Was it… was that okay?” I can see the yearning for approval in his eyes. “… Like, was it good for you?”

I don’t really know how to respond to that question, my brain is stiff fuzzy from my orgasm. “It was amazing baby…” I don’t want this moment to end. “I want to… can we do more… If that’s okay?”

I swear Chris has the condom out in less than three seconds. “Are you sure?” He’s looking at me like he truly doesn’t care what’s in it for him. “We can stop… or do other things, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

I do my best to find his eyes in my dazed state. “I’m sure… if it’s anything like what you just did, I’m not sure I ever want you to stop.” He nods quickly before getting up and stripping.

The second his waistband hits mid thigh, his member is hitting his stomach. It looks painful, so red and hard. I don’t know how it’s going to fit, but I trust him. He slides the condom on, quickly climbing back on top of me.

“Are you sure the at you want this?” This again. “We can stop whenever you want to… and you really don’t have to do any-”

I cut him off quickly by grabbing ahold of him and making sure that he knows that my motives are purely selfish at this point in time. He finally gets the hint and lines himself up.

“fu-ck…” Chris practically whimpers as he pushes into me. I unintentionally clench around him, who knew that a man whimpering was so sexy?

“Babe… you gotta stop squeezing me like that, I won’t last.” I mutter a quick apology, before giving him the go ahead to start moving.

It’s an interesting feeling. It’s not necessarily painful or uncomfortable, just different. It doesn’t take long for the feeling to melt into pleasure though.

The house is filled with sounds of whimpering and moaning, as we reach our highs. Chris reaches down and starts rubbing heavenly circles against my already overstimulated clit, causing my orgasm to crash into me without warning. I swear my vision goes out for a minute while Chris chases his own high.

Chris slowly pulls out, making me cry out in pleasure. “I’m sorry, but I have to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

The second he leaves it hits me all at once. What if it wasn’t good for him? What if he realizes that he only wanted me for sex, and decides the rest isn’t worth it? What if he-

“Are you okay?” He pulls me from my doom spiral, as he starts cleaning me up. He crawls into the bed next to me, looking deep into my eyes.

“Sorry… my brain is just trying to convince me that you’re going to leave.” I see his eyes soften, as he realizes what I’m saying. “It’s not necessarily like I believe it, I just worry sometime that all of my flaws outweigh the things keeping you here… like what if you leave, or you only stay because you feel like I’ll kill myself if you don’t?” Chris stares at me, looking like he doesn’t fully grasp the concept. “Does that make sense? I feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”

“Do you really think that I would do that?” The way he asks it makes my heart break.

It’s not like I really think that he would do something like that, but my brain just refuses to let me be happy. “No baby… I just find it so hard to trust anyone who says they care.”

Chris just pulls me into his arms, promising me that he loves me more than words could describe. After a few minutes in his arms we decide to put some clothes on and order some food. After dinner, I drift slowly into a peaceful sleep in his arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

#chris sturniolo #madi writes things #chris x reader #sh!reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut

[maltedghost]

The Omori Fanbase and Misunderstanding of Psychosis

This is going to be more ranty than anything else, so I apologize for that. I think it’s important that I also clarify this is coming from my personal opinion, and not everyone thinks the same.

I may as well mention, I have gone through psychosis for two years and have dealt with long term mental illness my entire life; it’s an uphill battle, and it’s something that never truly goes away. Medication is needed to properly maintain the symptoms of psychosis, and I want that to be kept in mind while reading this.

Here we go

For a game that emphasizes how mental health can take hold of and deteriorate the psyche, I’m surprised/somewhat disgusted by how a majority of the omori fanbase characterizes Basil as an obsessive yandere who is nothing but clingy and all smiles.

I also think it’s important to remember that DW Basil is what Sunny/Omori wants him to be, the same way Sunny/Omori creates the rest of his friends to be ‘perfect’ (which is why he keeps killing DW Basil when he steps out of line from that ‘perfect’ and ‘delicate’ persona).

That being said…

The fanbase is able to separate the DW and RW versions of the characters, but for some reason, this is not the case with Basil. Basil is treated as being exactly the same in RW like he is in DW; clingy, obsessive, and childish (when in reality he is fearing for his life and avoiding everyone like the plague—especially Sunny).

But why is that? My only guess can be is that this is another case of people misunderstanding symptoms of psychotic episodes.

When someone is going through psychosis, reality becomes distorted. You are unable to think or act correctly. Every day is waking up in fear, paranoid that something is going to come get you. It becomes difficult to distinguish what is real and what is not real. You don’t trust anyone, and you have the feeling of constantly being watched. Every day is a waking nightmare, and every night is a battle to fall asleep. It’s impossible to run away from your delusions, and they follow you everywhere you go like some festering parasite that only grows stronger over time.

Basil’s mind has clearly deteriorated throughout those four years. It only makes sense his paranoia and delusions became worse over time, eventually evolving into full psychosis; auditory, visual, tactile hallucinations… its made explicitly clear in-game that Basil suffers from all of these.

As represented by Basil’s SOMETHING, he is quite literally being eaten alive by his guilt and paranoia.

Now, as for anyone who has dealt with psychotic breaks, you’ll know that pushing away those thoughts only make them worse. Which brings me to my next point:

Basil is not obsessed with Sunny. He quite literally has no choice but to think about him. I truly believe he tried pushing away any reminders of his trauma, and I imagine during his first year alone, he tried giving up on the idea that Sunny would be there with him so they could have each other’s backs. He most likely tried moving on and living life as normally as he could.

But that’s not how PTSD works.

Basil’s trauma, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, haunted him every day—thus, Sunny haunted him every day. Every day, Basil’s paranoia had been reminding him of what happened, who was there, and what was promised.

This is what leads him into his psychosis, and his haunted perception of Sunny.

When Basil finally sees Sunny for the first time after four years, he’s not happy. He’s more-so nervous than anything else.

Sunny is a reminder of his trauma, and it’s made clear Basil isn’t ready to face him given he never wants to join your party.

(Displaying disoriented speech)

When he finds out that Sunny came out after all these years just to leave again (he didn’t even hear it from Sunny), of course that would trigger a psychotic response; thus, Basil retreats into the bathroom and manically repeats the phrase that’s gotten him through those four horrid, lonely years.

(Repetition of words/rumination)

While hallucinating as Sunny seemingly enters the bathroom to comfort him after all these years, he’s left alone again to be consumed by his paranoia. This goes on for the remainder of the game; Basil actively avoiding the party and staying inside, believing there is no hope left for him or Sunny.

(Foreshadowing suicidal thoughts)

And then his grandma passes.

Something interesting is that every interaction with RW Basil always leads to a fear response from Basil. Even if the incident from four years ago is never brought up, it’s obvious it’s constantly on his mind (again, psychosis consumes your every waking thought).

(he immediately becomes paranoid around Sunny, talking about Mari, unprompted).

And then there’s Basil’s meltdown.

(Hostility)

Some more symptoms of psychosis is sometimes having to deal with bouts of aggressiveness, word repetition, restlessness, and of course, frenzied/incoherent speaking.

When these meltdowns happen, it often reveals innermost thoughts and/problems, but in a more panicked sort of way. With that said…

I believe Basil’s dialogue in this scene reveals how he truly feels about Sunny.

Taking on the responsibility of hiding a horrid truth, all by himself, for four years—the guilt, paranoia, hallucinations getting worse and worse—and then finding out that the only other person who knows about this horrible sin is about to leave you again; but this time, forever. It’s cruel, and I don’t blame Basil for feeling some type of resentment towards Sunny.

(Part of me views Sunny losing his eye as punishment for his sins, but that’s just me).

Conclusion

I guess what I wanted to get across was that I’m sick of seeing people mischaracterize yet another psychotic character as nothing but a creepy yandere. I find it insulting to those who have gone through either short or long term psychosis (including me), and any of those who may still be dealing with psychotic breaks. I really want to see the fanbase do better, especially when this is a game that can be seen as mental health awareness.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t horribly saddened by OMORI’s neutral endings. Seeing Basil commit suicide and succumb to his psychosis is scary, and it’s something so many people dealing with mental illness fear every day. It’s a reminder of what could have happened to me had I not gotten the support and help I needed (meds, friends, family).

Afterthoughts

I don’t think Basil hates Sunny. Does that mean They should continue being friends? Well, maybe; exposure response therapy is usually helpful for dealing with things like this, and if Basil were to continue avoiding Sunny like the plague I believe it would only make his mental health worse (also of course Basil shouldn’t have stabbed out Sunny’s eye but my boy was hallucinating throw him a bone).

In reality, I think Basil just wants things to go back to the way they were, just like everyone else does. It’s very clear given the context of the game that Sunny and Basil have a special bond (“a red string of fate”).

If anything, I believe Sunny is more obsessed with Basil than Basil is with him, but that’s a different post for the future.

…and don’t even get me started on how Sunny told the truth then left Basil to pick up the scraps and deal with the aftermath of his friends.

…and no, I still have no idea what is up with Basil getting the idea to hang Mari.

#omori #omori basil #omori sunny #omori analysis #omori spoilers

[cricketwrites]

Never Again

GIF by ryousakurais

Prompt: Repeat the same line of dialogue, from the same character, three separate times.

"You're really an idiot sometimes."

Aomine Daiki had said that to you three separate times, on three separate occasions, with three different meanings behind it.

The first time he said it, it was jokingly, when you were young teens in middle school. He'd said it with a big grin and a pat on your head. You don't even remember what you had said, you just remember the look on his face.

It drew you in… he was like the sun. Bright and blinding, but comfortably warm.

You found yourself going to the Teiko Middle School basketball team practices more, just to see Aomine. He always grinned and waved at you, then took the time to talk to you after practice. He asked your opinion, if you thought he was cool, and if you thought he could improve in some way.

It was sweet. He was sweet. He always made sure to include you, even if you knew nothing about basketball. As long as you liked it, you were a good person in his eyes, and he seemed to really enjoy your company. You ended up with a crush on him, how could you not?

The second time he said it, it was insulting.

Lately, Aomine had become cold and closed off. He stopped talking to you, he stopped asking your opinion, he stopped talking to you in general. When you had finally cornered him and asked, he said those words. He'd said them with a sneer on his face, asking if you really couldn't tell how he had become bored of you, or if you were really that dense. How people as great as him shouldn't even associate with "the likes of normal people like you". How he had ascended beyond the need for friends. All he needed was to win, to find someone who could beat him.

He could be satisfied if he got that. That was all he needed, something to pique his interest again, to make him feel something again. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. Winning had become something he didn’t care about anymore, he couldn’t put in effort if he never had the energy to anymore. He didn’t have the energy for friends anymore, everything bored him, including you.

You couldn’t stop the tears flowing down your face, you could feel your heart breaking into tiny pieces.

Then came the anger. You couldn’t stop yourself from smacking him, despair taking over your features. If he didn’t need you, you didn’t need him. You would find your own happiness, it didn’t rely on him.

The rest of middle school went by in a blur after that. It turns out that you and Aomine were going to the same high school, you two ended up being in the same class, but you barely spared him a glance. A silent acknowledgement before falling back into the routine of pretending like he never existed in the first place. You never stopped wondering about him though, wondering if he had ever found the perfect opponent, mourning the sweet boy you loved in middle school.

The third time he said it, it was affectionate, but lost.

Touou had been beaten by Seirin, and Kuroko had asked you to meet him outside of the building. It made sense, you two hadn’t spoken since the end of middle school. It would be nice to catch up with one of your only friends from Teiko who didn’t forget you existed.

You didn’t expect to meet Aomine outside, instead. All of the pain came back, the heartbreak. He looked shocked to see you, then conflicted. He hung his head and looked at the ground, a strangely submissive gesture, considering how aggressive he had been with you when you last spoke.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

“I’m… sorry.”

You looked at him in surprise. He had actually apologized?

“Why are you apologizing?” You asked, voice soft and, admittedly, lost.

Aomine looked at you like you had grown a third head.

“Why am I-? I treated you like shit. Kuroko finally knocked some sense into me, I guess. More than Momoi could… and she tried for years. After you left, I felt a bit more… empty I guess. Didn’t know that was possible. And I have feelings for you or whatever, that’s what Kuroko said and I guess I needed to think about that so yeah. I’m sorry.” That was the most words you had heard him speak in years, especially to you. He had “feelings” for you? Kuroko knew? You had told Kuroko a long time ago, but you were surprised he still remembered. You were also surprised that somehow Kuroko got Aomine to admit his feelings.

“I appreciate your apology… and I liked you. A while ago. Now..? I’m not so sure.” You replied, keeping your gaze on Aomine’s shoes.

Aomine looked shocked. You liked him? Since when? Wait, liked… not like. He missed his chance.

“But… I’m willing to try being friends. We can see where things go from there.” You smiled. A sudden apology wouldn’t erase the years of heartbreak you had experienced at his hand, but you would be willing to talk to him. You’d be willing to try, as long as he put in the same effort, and he would.

Aomine wouldn’t lose you again, once was more than enough.

I hope you guys like this! Fics take me a lot longer to finish than headcanons do, but I really enjoy writing them when I have the spoons. BTW If you want a part two to this, let me know and I'll happily do one! I don't know if the ending falls a bit flat, so Im just curious on your guys' opinions ∧,,,∧ (  ̳• · • ̳) /    づ♡ Ask Box: Open! ~Cricket <3

#aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader #knb x reader #knb imagines #knb fanfic #aomine fanfic #aomine fluff #kuroko no basuke