#I didn't have any bad experiences recently I promise

[house-of-daena]

my precious experiment [afab.dottore x amab.reader]

contents: no pronouns specified, dom reader/sub dottore, nsfw, fem terms w/ genitalia, dubcon, monsterfucking, biting, blood, masochistic dottore, dacryphilia, monster anatomy, 2 c0cks, breeding kink, monster rut, belly bulge, size kink, viginity taking, oral (giving), typical dottore warnings, dottore tries to pretend he's in control, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ hm, just some thoughts. sorry if it's kinda bad it's been a while since i've written smut, but i promise the next post will be relatively better. rqs r open btw꒱

usually, miscalculations don't happen in dottore's experiments. sure, his research hits the occasional dead end and failure is inevitable. after all, it is part of the journey to achieve his goals; without failure, how can he improve and ascend into a new realm of knowledge?

but this was unprecedented.

you were a successful result of a recent experiment the doctor had conducted. the tsaritsa wanted more power into the fatui, especially when the traveler was running rampant about. however, you were still a prototype, and due to this, you've become dottore's obedient little errand/guard dog that is at his beck and call instead.

you could talk but chose silence and actions to communicate. dottore discovered you were very easy to please; just mere praise and gentle pats on your head, and you're roaring to take on any task the doctor shall give.

but since you were so obedient, dottore never would have expected you to act out of line. he should've been more prepared for a multitude of scenarios that could put him in danger. you were a beast, at the end of the day.

a beast in heat.

looming over him, your hand pinning his wrists above his head, your body pressed against his. even though your brain was drowning in a haze of lust, you were mindful of his reactions and the profanities spilling out of his lips.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses through his sharp teeth, glaring at you through his mask. you only let out a deep rumble in your chest as a reply, your free hand trailing down his torso, your sharp claws tearing cuts into his clothes. "don't tell me you think i'd take care of your heat." he felt a sense of dread, an emotion unfamiliar, throughout his entire body when you let out a purr, confirming his assumption.

dottore can't fathom the idea. him, the 2nd of the 11 fatui harbingers, catering to your needs? ridiculous! it should be you who'd be pleasing him! he squirmed against your grip, kicking and thrashing against your hold. you loosened your grasp, sensing his distress, but no matter what dottore did, you were too big, too strong, for him to manage an escape.

this is the first time dottore has cursed himself for creating such a successful experiment.

as if you could read into his mind, you pull back from his neck, blinking your clouded eyes at him. you stared deeply into his soul that dottore could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand. then, you spoke, gently and softly, in contrast to your beastly form, "do you have any precautions on an event like this?" you ask, your claws slowly digging into the tender flesh of his thigh, making him bite his bottom lip to suppress any embarrassing noise that threatens to leave his throat.

it was rare for you to speak. he'd only hear you let out small grunts when he injects you with a big needle or training with other fatui members. hearing you speak out a whole sentence sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine, and he felt his breath hitch.

when he didn't answer, too distracted by the tingling sensations on his body at the mere sound of your voice, you settled yourself between his legs and pressed yourself against his crotch. dottore's eyes widened, and he almost let out a gasp.

you were so warm against him, even when your clothes separated your skin from his. he could feel it straining and twitching against your pants and slowly rubbing yourself against him. fuck, it was dangerously big. he doesn't remember giving you something like that! somehow, the doctor struggled to think of anything else other than the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, gulping as he tried to regain his composure.

"have you made any suppressants for me?" you inquire once more, pressing a wet kiss against his cheek as you slowly lifted him up with just a hand, letting his wrists go to wrap his legs around your waist, to which he absentmindedly complied. "or did you plan to neglect me until my heat subsides?" your lips moved languidly against his marred skin, careful at his sensitive spots and started nipping at his neck, your sharp teeth forming aching bruises.

dottore grit his teeth as his hands shakily rested on your shoulders, weakly gripping them as he tried not to get too lost in the foreign feeling burning inside of him. he has never experienced such a thing. it was quite overwhelming, especially when you just grabbed him in the middle of his work and pinned him against the wall so suddenly. "you... were very well-behaved, i— ngh! i hadn't taken into account that your animalistic parts would go as f-far as giving you a heat cycle..."

he sounded like he was a bit quizzical at your predicament, probably planning to run down some tests on you later to further understand your form. it made your heart flutter when he spoke so analytically, especially towards you. you adored the doctor so much, and he sounded heavenly when he was holding back moans and catching his breath in between his words.

"then, since you are my creator, you should take responsibility for whatever happens to my body..." dottore finally couldn't hold back and let out a small shriek when you sank your teeth onto a sensitive area on his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you relished the iron taste against your tongue, so you bit him again and again, leaving red bruising marks all over his neck and down to his collarbone. all he could do was helplessly whine at your ministrations and claw at your broad shoulders, trembling against your body as he slowly descended into madness.

the tips of his ears reddened when you let out a chuckle, holding him so close in your arms. you had barely done anything, and he was already shaking. my doctor is beyond adorable, you thought to yourself.

you were just so taken by him, could he even blame you?

so utterly debauched by his everything. his body littered with beautiful scars and marks that reminded you of blank canvases gaining life and meaning with gorgeous colors and patterns, his red eyes that could easily pierce through your beastly facade, and his scent, alluring, addicting.

you could smell him everywhere you went inside the laboratory. it doesn't help that he has multiple segments that smell just like him. it drove you crazy, it was dizzying just to breathe whilst you stood on guard with the gnawing desire that was slowly consuming you. it only greatly intensified with your heart.

you didn't understand why your instincts wanted him. it was as if it was just in your system to want him, need him. your blood boils just by having him trapped in your arms, and your body reacts too aggressively when his skin touches yours. you just want him to keep him close to you, to bury your cocks inside his holes and fill him up to the point that you know he'll have your pups.

it was maddening.

but you're a patient little pet. you have enough self-control to hold yourself back so as to not upset your owner, creator. you respect your owner first and foremost. you purr and nuzzle against his neck, peppering wet, apologetic kisses on his skin, hoping it was enough to allow you to indulge your animalistic urges and ravish him until he could only think, feel and need your cocks.

"what's your verdict, doctor?" your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, head tilting upwards to look at you. "will you help me?"

dottore, for the first time in years, felt his heart racing. he didn't even think it was even possible anymore. it felt so odd to have you towering over him; he wanted to yell at you, to punish you for your misbehavior and perhaps deem you as a failure of an experiment. but the longer this went on, the more his body began to react so unusually...

he could feel himself throb between his legs, and he struggled to breathe. any coherent thought he had was thrown out the window, and his mind was vacant. he knew his pussy was fucking soaked, clenching onto nothing as you rubbed your crotch against his. he didn't understand why he seemed to like being overpowered so easily.

the only distant memory he could recall when he felt the same way was when he was back at the akademiya, but that was only because of his hormones, and he has never really dealt with such time-consuming activities.

but now, he can't find himself to deny you. how could he? you were practically holding him down until he couldn't move. who knows what you'd do to him if he were to refuse?

with a last attempt to not appear as pathetic as he was at the moment, he let out a shaky scoff and straightened his back. "fine," he relents with a firm tone, dazedly glaring at you, "but only to... further investigate the state your... body is in..." it was a flimsy excuse to save his ego, but it was enough for you.

you gave him a peck on the lips, and your tail began to wag enthusiastically behind you. "thanks, doc. i'll be gentle with your first time."

oh, how you adore the look he gave you. it was simply too obvious based on his reactions. oh well, his ego will be ruined into nothing later on.

archons, why did he agree?

dottore felt like he was dying. this was a pleasure he never thought of experiencing in his whole life. your monstrously long and wide tongue slipping so easily inside his pussy and stretching his insides with little concern got him doubling back. he has your head locked between his thighs, but you didn't seem to care as you relentlessly lapped at the sweet ichor that dripped between his legs and wriggled your tongue as deep as you could inside his walls.

oh gods, it felt so good. he was practically riding your mouth as his hips stuttered against the movements of your tongue. he felt like he was going to explode in pleasure, his sensitive parts that have never been explored by another quivering at each touch. the pad of your thumb rubbed incessantly against his clit, and he can't help but throw his head back, letting out such obscene sounds you never thought you'd hear coming from his lips.

your claws, which you have dulled for his convenience, buried deep into his other hole, covered in his own spit. you thrust your claws in rhythm with your tongue's movement, and he was losing his mind. it felt too good— it was like he ascended into the heavens. his body burned hotter and hotter, and his walls convulsed at the slick feeling of your tongue.

his hands grabbed hold of your horns, tugging on it so harshly as if he was about to tear it from your forehead. you could only groan at the aching feeling, speeding up your movements and making him choke on his own moans.

"f-fuck! slow down i— ahn! i-i cAN'T! OH! hgnnn..." he slurs out, his body so overwhelmed at the mind-numbing pleasure, but his words contradicted his actions. his hips moved erratically to meet your thrusts from both your claws and your tongue, clenching on them as if he never wanted to let you go.

and when you finally deemed he was ready, holes stretched out enough to take your cocks, you gripped his hips to stop him from moving. slowly, you let your tongue slide out of his cunt and your fingers leave his ring of muscles. he whined at the sudden emptiness, glaring at you with his watery, ruby eyes and scowling. "i was so close! why the hell did you-"

you easily, but gently, moved him down to your lap, allowing him to straddle you as you sit up. your tail immediately coiled around his waist possessively as you purred at him. dottore gulped when he understood what you wanted, and watched as you removed your belt and unbuttoned your pants.

okay, dottore definitely does not remember giving you two cocks. did it just develop while you were in the incubation pod? having one massive cock is already too much for dottore to handle, but two?

your tail moved his body, hovering his holes over your cocks. he jolts from how warm your cock heads were when it pressed against his holes. he grabbed your shoulder and his eyes were blown wide with panic. "w-wait- that won't fit!"

you only cooed, your hands roaming his body so tenderly as if to ease his tensed muscles. you didn't speak, but your eyes told him everything, 'we'll make it fit.'

before he could argue with you, you've already aligned yourself and slowly pushed his hips down onto your thick cocks. your girth was too much, his insides burned at the stretch as your cocks dragged against his walls as he kept sucking you in. you were barely halfway in, and he already felt like he was going to pass out.

you were nothing short but sweet to him, wiping his tears (when did he start crying?) and cooing softly into his ear. you were taking it considerably slow just for him, despite your animalistic urges telling you to just slam him down and fuck him.

dottore took in a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around your neck. leaning back and gritting his teeth, he tried to keep his body lax as you eased him down on your lengths until you were fully sheathed inside him. he raked his hands through your hair, and you immediately leaned against his touch, following the warmth of his hand.

"good beast," he utters in your ears, and he hears you trilling happily at his praise. you grabbed his face with your hand and pulled him into a kiss, tilting his head to devour his mouth. he moaned at the taste of himself that lingered on your tongue, closing his eyes.

though his praise did the opposite of what he wanted when you slowly lifted him up from your cocks until it was only the tips were inside of him, too distracted by the dizzying kiss, before slamming him down onto your lap.

dottore pulled away to let out a scream, eyes rolling back as you bounced his body up and down at your cocks. it felt like you've punched all the air out his lungs, trying to split his body in half, every time his holes takes your dicks whole again.

fuck, he felt so good. his insides felt so warm and tingly, practically carving his walls into the shape of your cocks. each thrust, he lets out these cute "ah! ah! ah!", babbling about how you're too big and that he can't take it and that he's about to break. but you were too far gone, letting the beast inside of you take control as you fuck into dottore relentlessly, again and again, burying your dicks impossibly deep inside of him.

when he looked down, he sees a small bump that disappears and reappears whenever he bounces. he looks at it in awe, drooling all over your chest and marveling at how big you are. his holes clenched impossibly tighter around your cocks, and you growled at the feeling. his gummy walls felt like absolute heaven, and you picked up your pace.

dottore was doing everything he can to not pass out. his throat was beginning to hurt from how much he was screaming and moaning and chanting your name over and over. he was seeing stars and his nails rake down the bare skin of your back, leaving marks and making them bleed.

"f-fuckk! too b-big!" he moans, trying to catch his breath, "s' good! d-don't stop!"

and you took that order to heart. even when dottore has begged you to stop, that his mind was so numb he could barely form coherent sentences, that his holes were so raw and spent from how long you've been fucking him, that he has come so many times he can't even cum anymore, yet you still continue to fuck him.

"n-no more! fuck! i-i can't- i've already cum so much- please!" he begs, vision blurry from his tears. "ahn! h-hannh! fuck im cumming again! imcummingimcumming-"

he was barely awake at this point, laying flat on his stomach as he weakly grips on the sheets for his dear life. you were not satisfied just yet, even if you've filled him up to the brim. he could feel his stomach swell with your warmth, but you only kept going, groaning into his ear and purring happily from the pleasure.

you were going to get it after you're done. he was going to make you feel the pain that even a monster like you can't bear it. he swears on it pathetically, hiccuping between airy moans. he couldn't feel his lower half anymore, but he still tries to move against your thrusts.

it was so addicting. the pleasure, the high... he will do something about your behavior later... but for now, he'll allow you to continue filling him up with your cum. he was conducting a test on the limitations of your body, after all.

#» asmo's writings #» dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #sub dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin smut

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I have drawn so much baby Matt and Al recently god damn...

Is it a baby fever of do am I just fascinated by the different experiences of these two brothers. Who knows. Anyway,

For Alfred, I headcanon Arthur to have been very hands on in regard to raising his son. Very present but also very much teaching him how to be self reliant and, for the lack of better wording, independent. As a child, Alfred was wery inquisitive and curious. Arthur encouraged that, be it consciously or subconsiously. Arthur would play a huge role in Alfreds development; even when sickness struck young Alfred, Arthur was the one taking charge and staying up with him, making sure his son gets better. During the worst times, Arthur even dismissed all maids and even his sons governess out of frustration. Bc who could ever take better care of his own son than he himself. I have a habit of writing that Arthur does not consider himself a good man, but I do think he is a good father. At least to his firstborn.

This is a sort of continuation of the ask about Arthurs full on menty breaky after the constant infant death Alfred endured in his earliest days (If I find the ask I'll link it). I just wanted Arthur tired and beaten down finding peace in sleep. While at the same time, while he sleeps, Alfreds fever drops.

Matt didn't get the same parenting from François. Arthur may be a good father, but I don't think François was. At least not affectionate enough. He did buy his son presents and even made sure he got the best education. However, was that something he did for Matt or was he expected to do that as a pompous aristocrat? Even when sick, Matthew didn't make much noise. He only let people know how bad it was when he was truly ill and crossing the border of life and death. Though, the person holding Matt and making sure he survived was his governess, Marie. François would stay up and would sent for the doctors, but it was Marie who understood what Matthew needed and wanted at any given moment. She stayed with him for almost 40 years but, due to nations having a much longer childhood, died without being remembered by the boy she cared for and loved so very much.

The person who cared most for Matthew is a person he does not remember.

(I wanna elaborate on Marie some more I love her and she deserves it lol)

Anyway, sorry for the baby spamming I promise to go back to drawing slutty middle aged men in war scenarios ASAP

#hetalia #hws america #hws england #hws canada #hws france #historical hetalia #myart #my art #francois bonnefoy #francis bonneofoy #arthur kirkland #alfred f jones #matthew williams #this did not take as long as i thought it would i cranked these pics out in 2 days god bless #i love procrastinating when i should be studying #my headcanons

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head. 

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today." 

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you." 

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow." 

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping." 

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos. 

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you. 

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful." 

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[weebsinstash]

My yandere Invincible posts have been getting notes recently now that season 2 is starting and there's a specific idea I have in my head for platonic yandere dad Nolan x daughter Reader because of a scene from the first episode, the scene from Mark's past where (small spoiler I guess) Nolan visibly heavily contemplates killing Mark and Debbie (because Mark might not get his powers and, he doesnt want to fail his mission) but quickly stops himself and is clearly ashamed for what he almost did

I keep thinking of a specific scenario. Reader is his second-born daughter who is a couple years younger than Mark and you're his little princess and you're just, outside playing while your parents occasionally peek out at you through the glass door/window to the backyard and, you're like 5 or 6 when things just, suddenly change, it hits you like lightning. Things look differently, they smell different, the sun on your skin feels different, the toys in your hands feel lighter and weirder than before, and when you start to slowly squeeze them, they start to break, but, you're smart and fast enough to stop.

But it's not JUST your body. It's your MIND. Suddenly you're remembering all those cartoons you've ever watched, practically every memory you have, every experience, every fact.

Temporarily, ever so briefly, you start to float, and you easily figure out how to put yourself down.

You're so excited you can't even make a sound-- you've got your powers like Dad!-- and you go to tell your parents, and you see then talking inside. You don't want to interrupt and wait outside patiently, deciding you'll go in when they're done talking even ss you're bouncing in excitement. And, you see everything from Ducktape Man to Mom and Dad talking to that menacing movement your father made, where some animalistic instinct inside of you knew it was HOSTILE and, in just a few moments, you're putting it all together, like either some gullible kid who believes everything in cartoons, or, perhaps, someone who just became a lot, lot smarter: you start hypothesizing that Nolan must be evil and has some hidden ulterior motive. Why would Nolan be so mad at Mark not having powers to the point of violence, murder? Oh, because if Mark didn't have powers, he wouldn't be like dad, he'd be a human? Does dad not like humans? Does dad want to hurt humans? Is there any other reason Dad seems to almost NEED his offspring to be Viltrumites too?

Oh, is Dad a bad alien who wants his children to leave Earth and human culture behind for their roots? And if he doesn't succeed, he'll snap? Is it like in those cartoons where the evil father tries to bring his kid to the darkside and the hero has to fight and defeat them even if it hurts?

The whole theory and coming into your powers is surreal, it's inhuman, but it's the new you, the new Viltrumite you. You burst into tears as you become overwhelmed and stressed at the idea you might have to fight your evil dad, lying to your father, no, Nolan, that you were crying because you broke your toy on accident and he has to shush you as he promises you a new one but your chubby little kid arms aren't squeezing him as tight as they used to

You start keeping secrets. You start watching him all the time, the things he does, the things he says, and the more and more, you become convinced. He never stops treating you as his little angel, and you even notice, he's, for some reason, gentler with you than Mark and, as you grow older, you realize it's because you're a girl and for whatever reason he's falling into the very stereotypical role of, treating both you and Mark very well overall, but, also being more lenient with you, telling Mark he has to be a good brother and protect his baby sister, Nolan always trying to buy you little sweets, but, after you saw what you did, your behavior towards him immediately shifts. You try to act the same to avoid arousing suspicion but you aren't nearly as affectionate and, as you get older, you take advantage of using puberty and needing independence as an excuse to put emotional walls up and distance yourself from him, even as he constantly tries to engage and spend time with you

Your family is worried what's wrong with you when you start calling him Nolan instead of dad, you suddenly don't want to spend time with him, your mom, and even your brother. You start working the second you're legally old enough, but, despite how bright and inquisitive you were as a kid, your grades are. Average. As in, deliberately average. You can never let Nolan know what you are. As you age and hear more and more of his comments where you can tell he's insulting not just anyone in particular, but the entire human race, you steel yourself, because you know, you know this man cannot be your father anymore, and you may even have to kill him. But you're so overly cautious about him and anyone else not finding out that you're limited at training options. You can't just fly anywhere, you can't just practice martial arts against normal humans, but, you find ways to make it work. You work manual labor jobs your father scoffs at, you wait until night and/or you know he's off planet to practice flying in one single field where you can see for miles all around you and see any witnesses or planes coming

You are a daughter with every intention of either abandoning her family and leaving the planet, or killing her father. Once you realized that you were an alien, unlike Mark and unbeknownst to Nolan, you're more like your father than you realize. You become more apathetic to humanity, more nonchalant about where you are in life. Suddenly you don't have to worry about your grades or college or things like that because, well, what good will earth stuff do you in outer space? Maybe you'll pick up some more practical knowledge but, really, the only reason you don't leave the planet once you start getting older is literally just that, one you're still attached to Mark and Debbie, and two, you don't have a flight suit and know your clothes will burn up and. You wanna get out of here but you don't want to be naked in space!!

Like picture this. Mark has just gotten his powers and you're heartbroken because, over the last decade your father started spending significantly more focus on Mark instead of you, inviting him to things he doesn't even mention to you, finally shifting almost his exclusive attention to his son, and, now Mark is "just like dad", already starting to get full of himself because hes stronger and "better", which worries you because, you eventually deduce Nolan is some kind of invader who is having kids to be soldiers. Like imagine sitting at the dinner table and Mark is all "don't worry sis, I bet you're a late bloomer too :) youll get your powers soon" and Nolan pipes in like "yeah and then we can all go out flying together" and you just look him dead in the eyes and don't reply. You're constantly having to temper your anger and keep up your ruse because if you're too openly hostile, he'll figure it out, and you have literally not a single doubt in your mind that he'll kill you for his mission, which is funny because you've actually adapted a lot of the "don't care I'm an alien" mindset that he wanted Mark to have

Nolan has no idea why you clearly hate him, why you fake smiles, why you stopped spending time with him. He still remembers when you were a toddler and you were running around, skinning your knees all the time and picking yourself up with little sniffles like nothing happened because you just wanted to keep running and exploring and playing SO bad. You used to be so bright. He had such high hopes for you. Honestly he always thought you would potentially outmatch Mark and be his strongest child, but. Here you are, a straight C student, working manual labor jobs, completely average, and refusing to bond with him in any way. He can tell you're keeping some sort of secret from him, but whenever he goes to confront you about it, you're... surprisingly scared, but, not as scared as you should be, in the nuanced ways one would shrink away as a child being scolded by their parent. It's almost like... you're holding some sort of grudge against him

I couldn't decide which version I prefer in terms of Reader finally being exposed. Maybe you don't realize Mark is trailing you and he finds out and tells Nolan behind your back under the mistaken impression you recently got your powers and was training in secret to make it a surprise. Or there's some sort of attack or disaster or accident where you're shot by a robber or they attempt to stab you and it just, dents against your skin. Or even, you start disrespecting Debbie because you're frustrated about being an alien that can't die and she let this man into her bed without truly knowing who or what he was and you're resenting her for it and you make a really awful comment and get in an argument with her and in anger she moves to slap you and fractures her hand against your invulnerable face, or you have to catch her wrist so she doesn't hurt herself and Nolan can tell by your reflexes that you're not fully human

I also just like the idea of. You're 18 and you make it very extremely clear you're moving out and your family is like, REFUSING but they technically can't stop you (although the idea of Omniman going full yandere dad and physically locking you up so his baby girl doesn't leave the nest certainly IS a nice thought) and they notice, instead of packing your things, you're donating them, getting rid of them. The day of your move happens and you're standing there with only a backpack and you haven't told them Any details about where you're going or, just, ANYTHING, and Nolan is looking at you like a big sad hound dog "can't I at least drive you 🥺" and you're like " :) no that's OK, I've got my own ride" AND JUST FLYING AWAY. I just think it'd be extremely relatable and hilarious if you keep up the ruse for so many years and you finally blow your cover because you lose your temper or because you've been hurt emotionally. Nolan tries to ground you, "March upstairs right now young lady!" and you're just like "march?" As you start levitating away just to spite him and he's picking his jaw off the floor. Mark sees you acting out one day "You're just jealous because dad likes spending time with me over you and you don't have any powers" and youre so hurt at seeing your big brother who you've been wanting to protect all this time become a pawn of your father that you just start hovering in the air right then and there, "you can have dad. You can have everything. I'm not even staying on this planet anymore"

I dunno, I kinda like the idea of Reader being this kind of, you know, still kind and all that, but a really almost, inhuman figure in the sense that your specific alien genetics or mutation causes you to kind of snap onto Genius Mode and you become sort of this calculating detached figure who pretends to be human and is openly hateful to your entire family because, as you see it, you're on your own and don't need or want them, you're different than them, your mental abilities are different even from Nolan's, and, meanwhile, said superhero is desperate to find out why his little girl hates her Daddy so much. He's still, you know, got that Viltrum in him, but Debbie and Earth has drawn out more of his humanity and he does love you, he does want you in his life, and it HURTS for you to reject him

But then he finds out about your powers and. Suddenly you're just supposed to magically forget how he started pushing you away too as he wants to bond with you again, teach you, train you. He has no idea he's proving your years of theories right as, he is overjoyed at discovering you have powers, like, you very clearly detect the "oh thank GOD you're not ACTUALLY a lowly human" energy oozing off of him and you realize you were right all along, you really were never more than just an extension of this narcissistic man from his freak species of savages, that he came to Earth with ulterior motives and it's dangerous for you to continue to be around him

You can try to pull away from him all you want, but even if he never found out about your powers, Nolan won't ever let you slip through his fingers. He knows how heartless and cruel this galaxy can be, and, if you're really truly such a fragile little eggshell of a human, then, clearly you need your doting dad looking after you until you're a little old lady passing away of old age while he looks exactly the same as the day you were born. But. That's not what's going to happen because even if that scenario came to pass he would quickly see that you aren't aging. There's no way you can fake that.

I just imagine a Reader who hardens herself into a true soldier and starts planning for the day you kill your father. You lure him out one day into a certain area and you jump him with like Homura vs Walpurgisnacht levels of preparation, hurling all sorts of materials and chemicals and objects at him, testing what works yet nothing does, coming at him with all sorts of different attacks and techniques you've had to teach yourself and pick up on your own, but, he's older than you, FAR older, and much more experienced, and he finally has to do something he hates and punches you in the gut so hard it makes you collapse and start throwing up but, he's just. POSITIVELY EUPHORIC. you just tried to kill your own father at like 17, 18, 20 years old and he's standing here "I KNEW IT, I knew you were special! Did you plan all this? Wow! you even tried to pierce my heart! where did you even get explosives from, did you make these?" Like he's THRILLED at the absolute sheer brutality, like, you just tried to KILL HIM kill him and he's like "Awwww I'm so proud 🥰🥰🥰 my little baby girl is a true viltrumite" and now YOU'RE FUCKED because now he loves you more than ever and, he was lowkey becoming massively depressed at the idea of outliving you, losing you, having to see you die, and now he doesn't have to, so. Now he can have both of his kids for rhe next hundreds and thousands of years 🥰 he has so many things he wants to show and teach you, so, now that he's seen how truly capable you are, it's time to start your training, but also, making up for all that lost bonding time you spent pushing dear old dad away ❤️

#yandere invicible #yandere nolan grayson #yandere x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts #also. ok. kind of this same concept but. anon was right. this same concept but like miguels daughter realizing hes an imposter #hes scary hot. hes like. kidnap you and force you to be the mother of hia children scary hot

[httpsjeonglvr]

Chapter Summary: After weeks of denying it Ao’nung decided to finally confess after the near experience of losing you alongside your older brother.

CW: Nothing but two hopelessly in love Navis’ confessing to each other,kissing,fluff obviously

You fluttered your eyes open and saw the ceiling of your room. You didn't want to get out of bed, but you needed to check on your friends is they were okay. You turned your head to the side when you heard a knock and the door opened, revealing Ao’nung ung. "Hey." He greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

You sat up and sighed. "I guess so." You replied. "I actually woke up earlier, had a bath, and then went back to sleep." You stifled a laugh. "I didn't have a proper sleep in the past few nights and, surprisingly, I didn't have any dreams today."

"Well, that's good... I guess." Ao’nung approached you with a smile as he walked into your room. "How's your head?"

"Good." You raised your hand to pat the back of your head until you winced, prompting Ao’nung to spring forward to check on you. "Ow. Okay, maybe not." You chuckled sheepishly.

"Why would you even pat your head to check your injury?" Ao’nung scolded you a little as he climbed into your bed and examined the back of your head. His concern made you warm up a little. "You had me worried sick last night."

As Ao’nung pulled away and sat in front of you, you stared at him in surprise. "You... you were worried sick about me?"

Ao’nung nodded. "Well, yeah. You were using your strength to stop an evil sky demon. That's dangerous."

You shrugged as you smiled at him. "It's all worth it if it means I get to sacrifice myself to save all of you."

As he touched your hands, Ao’nung shook his head. "No, no, no. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself, okay? I don't want to lose you and I'm not going to lose you."

You stared at Ao’nung in shock as he glanced down, rethinking his life choices all of a sudden. He huffed. "Why am I so talkative?" He grumbled to himself. Ao’nung returned your stare while adjusting his posture. "Remember when I said... about surviving and telling you something?"

You nodded silently and Ao’nung nodded back. "Okay, so, um..." He stammered as he returned his attention to your hands, gently caressing your knuckles "The reason why... I sort of became protective of you and starting hanging out with you more recently is because..." He gulped. "I see you."

Ao’nung's confession rendered you speechless, and you thought you'd stopped breathing. Ao’nung continued with his confession. "And... I think Ive seen you for a while,but... I was in denial. It took me a while to realize it until I started messing with your siblings..."

'No, no. This can't be real.' You thought to yourself in panic. 'Is this real? This is too good to be real. If this is just a dream, just wake me up.'

"And this isn't a dream, in case you're wondering."

'Fuck.'

Ao’nung locked his gaze on you as you sought to digest his confession into your mind. The voice in your head was eerily quieter than usual, which made you feel relieved but also anxious. "(Y/n)?" Ao’nung asked, shaking your hand to bring you back to reality.

"Surely, I must be dreaming, right?" You nervously chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes. "No way can this be real. I've had these kinds of dreams before and I'm not falling for them again."

Ao’nung suddenly felt bad after hearing your words. He couldn't tell you what was going on in your dreams, so he shook his head and stroked your cheeks to reassure you. "No, no. This is real. I promise. I'm sorry if this feels like one of your dreams, I assure you this one isn't."

You took a deep breath and carefully held his hands in yours to check if they were real. In your dreams, every time you tried to clasp his hand, it would slip through your fingers and Ao’nung would vanish right before your eyes. You closed your eyes, sighing in relief as you nodded. "Yeah, I guess this is real..." You stared into his eyes when you opened your eyes. "I almost cried for nothing. Sorry for being dramatic."

You and Ao’nung shared a short laugh as he leaned his forehead against yours. You clutched onto his hands as you sighed. "Ao’nung , I..." You gulped. "I like you too, but..." You admitted.

"Are you not ready yet? Because I can wait as long as it takes—"

"No, I want to... but I got issues and I don't want you getting involved—"

"Then we'll face them together." He interrupted. "I'll face anything as long as I get to be with you."

You broke into a smile. "That's too romantic for a nerd like you, future Olo'eyktan."

Ao’nung shrugged as he smiled back. "You do things to me that I can never even imagine myself doing. And you bringing my romantic side is one of them."

"That's so cheesy." You snickered, causing Ao’nung's smile to grow bigger. "But you love it." Ao’nung teased.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes again as you felt him moving closer. "Can I... kiss you? Again?"

You had a flashback about your first kiss. The kiss that you felt that he did out of pity because you haven't had your first one before. You were terrified he'd do it again, but after hearing his confession and now hearing him plead for permission, you felt butterflies swarming within your stomach. You nodded as you smiled.

As soon as you gave your consent, Ao’nung closed the distance between your lips and his and took a firm grip on the back of your neck, holding you carefully. You kissed him back and felt your hands placing themselves on his chest. As his hand stroked softly on your head to avoid causing you any harm, you felt yourself leaning back on your pillow, not wanting to break the kiss. The two of you broke the kiss for a minute when you realized that Ao’nung was now on top of you. You looked up to him with big doe eyes as you breathed heavily.

Your lips connected with his once more, and you felt his hand move to your neck while yours moved to his hair. You had no idea where this was heading, but it didn't matter to you at the moment. You wanted to cherish this moment in case something unexpected happened after all of this is over. You pulled away causing Ao’nung to widen his eyes in complete concern. "What?" He asked worriedly. "Were we moving too fast? Did I scare you?"

You shook your head. "No, no." You replied. "I-I just wanted to say that this... we can't say this to everyone. At least not yet. After what happened last night, I don't think this is the best time to tell what we have right now."

"What do we have right now?" Ao’nung asked with a playful smirk.

"I don't know, are we together now?" You asked back with a smile.

"Sounds good to me," Ao’nung whispered huskily before planting his lips against yours once more, unable to hide the fact that he couldn't get enough of the sensation. You removed his hair from out its bun running your hands through it as you smiled in the kiss and set your hair-tie on the side if your bed.

Bonus Scene:

“What the hell is going on?!” You and Ao’nung quickly turned around meeting your dads hard stare as he observed the scene and growled glaring holes into Ao’nung’s head.

“Uh hey dad” You slowly slip off your bed and hug his arms looking at him trying to lessen his glare but he held still and walked towards your new mate.

“I want you out right now and properly dressed we have dinner later and I expect the best” He dragged a wincing and wheezing Neteyam out the doorway as he laughed at your embarrassed state while you flipped him off.

“So is the mood gone?” Ao’nung appeared behind you as you turned around and smacked him while pushing him out the door cursing him out in English.

This part sucked but oh well🤷🏾‍♀️

#avatar x reader #chaeesworld #aonung x reader #james cameron avatar #metkayina #tsireya x reader #loak x reader #loak x tsireya #aonung x sully!reader #tsutey avatar #jake smut #jake sully x na'vi reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fluff #neteyam imagine #tonowari x y/n #neytiri sully #𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰'

[ha1taniwh0re]

BSD TOPICS

‼️Spoilers,ped0 mentioning, mafia content?‼️

Ready for hate once again

So im back at watching BSD and im currently at season 5, so I want to talk about some things I see on tik tok recently.

Mori effect

We all know about Mori's "children". Dazai, Yosano, Elise, Q and how Mori traumatized them. First Dazai, he was traumatized before he even met Mori so Mori didn't traumatized him but he did gave him some bad memories(aka killing ex boss Infront of Dazai), Yosano wasn't really traumatized directly by Mori. Mori is a person who will try not to make much mess, he would rather make one person to lose mind than millions of people lifes. Let's remember that ADA and PM have same job, they protect Yokohama's people, ADA is light and Port Mafia is dark so Mori isn't really heartless, he killed ex boss so millions of people wouldn't die just like in war(The leader of an organisation is at the pinnacle of the organization and, at the same time, he is its slave. The leader must be more than willing to commit any atrocity in order to insure the survival of the organization.). At the time yosano was traumatized by Mori she was in war. That experience is already traumatising, her ability was really helpful but it wasn't just Mori who traumatized her but also a soldiers too. They started to hate her at some point because of her ability Mori is doing what anyone in military would do if they were in Mori's position while they are in the middle of the war. Elise, elise is his ability. Yeah yeah she was a young girl before Mori transformed into little girl, but now she is just an ability and Mori controls her how he wants she can't be really traumatized as ability, she doesn't seem like she remembers that she was a real person before. Q is indeed traumatized by Mori too but most by Dazai, Dazai was the one who locked Q.

ADA member transfer to PM

Where to start here? There are some of things that are hinting on Dazai being next boss. Mori predicted that Dazai will be boss at 23(now he is 22), Dazai took off his blue thing off (that was sign that he is with Ada), Mori not sitting in openings and Dazai is scene before that and after. All ADA members having white background in outro s5 but dazai has red. And much more that I saw. People also said that Dazai won't be a person will be back to PM because of Oda. Let's remember that Oda was famous mafia member that never killed someone. So Dazai can be like Oda and he is still keeping his promise to Oda but also he will save ADA people from being in PM.

Better villains

BRO YOU GUYS COULDN'T HANDLE THESE TWO AND YOU WANT "BETTER" VILLAINS. They are THE BEST villains you guys just see one wrong thing and you become blind af. You saw for Mori being ped0(still bad not defending) and never saw anything else but he just is soooo not important. If he wasn't important he wouldn't be still alive. Fukuchi was SOOOO GOOD never could guess he was fifth member. Poor Tachihara became blind T^T

#mori ougai x reader #mori ogai x reader #mori ougai #mori ogai #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #fukuchi x reader #koyo x reader #ada #port mafia #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #kunikida x reader #ranpo x reader

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Tracey received a call from his supervisor to come straight to his office shortly after arriving at work. He began to wonder what his supervisor wanted so early in the day. He hoped it wasn't bad news. He really didn't need to hear that. He was having a bit of bad luck situations recently. He had been behind in his portion of the rent on the apartment, having his roommate to make up the difference. If that wasn't bad enough, his car was in the shop, having major repair work done to it. He had been forced to use Uber services to get to work. He didn't need any more bad news at the moment.

Tracey entered James, his supervisor's office. He motioned to have a seat.

"I called you in before you got started for a reason. There is no easy way to say what i have to tell you. Unfortunately, there were some budget cuts, and your position was one the company decided to cut effective immediately." James paused. "I am sorry to bring such sad news to you, but it's out of my hands."

Tracey definitely didn't want to hear that at a time like now. There had to be another solution. Honestly, if there was one, he would take it no matter what it was. "I understand that, but please, is there any other position that is open or available. I really can't take any more sad news right now." He pleaded to James, hoping there was something he could offer.

James had one other offer, but those who were released or fired would not take it due to the dangers it carried in accepting it. He decided to offer it anyway. "There is one opening available, but it carries a risk." He pulled out the contract and slid it over to Tracey.

Tracey looked over the paper and read it twice. There was a large bonus of $100k once done, but there was a risk. "So I get the $100k, and the other gets $50k once the year is up, right?" He asked, to be sure he understood right. He saw James nod yes to his question.

"But remember the risk you take. If the owner decides to forgo the $50k, you belong to him. There is no return." James paused. "You literally are placing your life in another's hands. You fully understand?" James reiterated.

Tracey needed something good. "Can I choose who owns me?" He asked back.

"Ordinarily, you really don't have a choice, but I will make this one exception since you really were a good employee. Just write in the name of who you want it to be and sign it. We will do the rest." James promised. He would at least do this one favor for a guy who was having a bad day. Tracey handed the paper back with his signature on it. He ran it through his copier and filed the original. He handed the copy back to him. "Take this to HR." He instructed him as he placed a call down to HR about the position.

Several hours later, Seth came into James' office. He motioned for Seth to have a seat. He slid over the shoe box to him. He watched as Seth opened it and was puzzled why he was receiving a new pair of sneakers. "We have been wanting to try out an experimental product, but no one ever took the offer. That was until your coworker Tracey signed up to do it." He spoke as he also showed the contract that Tracey had signed. "These sneakers are Tracey now. He is still alive, just that he is a pair of sneakers. He chose you to wear him for a year. The point of the experiment is to test the durability of our indestructible formula. All you have to do is treat him like normal footwear for a year. If you wish to conclude the formula test for both of you, he gets $100k bonus tax free, and you get $50k bonus check tax free." He added to his previous words. He waited for Seth to reply back.

Seth took out the shoes and examined them. It was hard to believe the sneakers he was holding were actually his best friend at work. He wondered why Tracey would even agree to this. "Why did he choose to be my sneakers?" He asked, feeling curious. Like, who would really choose to be another person's footwear?

"The company had cut his position in budget cuts. To stay on with the company, this was his only option." James reported honestly.

"So I wear him for a year and return him back, and he gets $100k bonus check and I get $50k bonus check, all tax free?" Seth wanted to be sure he understood right.

"Yes, that is your first option." James spoke.

Seth heard first option which meant there was a second option. "What's my second option since I have a first?" He asked wondering what it could be.

"Your second option is that after one year, if you decide to continue with the experiment for us, you get $100k bonus check tax free, but poor Tracey will have to spend another whole year supporting your feet. Every year that you continue, you receive a $100k bonus check tax-free, but that also means you subject Tracey to being your shoes." James paused to be fully serious. "Option two means you are in control of his humanity or return to human form. He specifically selected you to wear him. So I sense that he has some sort of trust in you to decide how long he will be supporting your feet." He finished.

Seth, like the thought of receiving a $100k bonus check. Yet, this was his best friend at work who he was about to wear on his feet for a year. To receive that bonus check every year would be awesome, yet that meant keeping his best friend as his footwear. Could he really do that to Tracey, he pondered.

"We will revisit your option in one year. Until then, enjoy wearing Tracey." James spoke.

Seth put the sneakers back in the box and left the supervisor's office. When he got back to his desk, he opened the box and whispered to his sneakers. "I have to say, $100k every year sounds so nice. Sorry Tracey, but I have to take option two. I hope you understand, but I promise to take good care of you as you take good care of my feet for a long time." He took off his current shoes and put on Tracey.

Tracey thought he knew his best friend well enough. He thought that he would only be sneakers for a year. He thought that Seth would not be tempted by the amount of money. He saw he was wrong. He saw the pair of socks on Seth's feet weren't exactly clean and had a slightly strong vinegar odor. It was pressed hard into his insole face. This was his existence, to live as sneakers for Seth for at least a year or possibly longer.

FIVE YEARS LATER.......

Seth enjoyed a rather smooth life. For the past five years, the job gave him a $100k bonus check for continuing to test their indestructible formula. He has used Tracey for every gym and workout session. He has worn him to work every day. He even tried cutting him with scissors. He did anything and everything to try to destroy his sneakers, yet he remained relatively unscathed. Not only that, Tracey was the most comfortable footwear he owned. He didn't exactly know how Tracey felt about being sneakers every year, but the money was coming in handy. He even wore him on vacations that he took each year. His life was great, thanks to Tracey choosing him instead of someone else. There were weeks where he wore the same pair of socks every day to thank Tracey for the money he wad receiving each year. Life truly was great with having a pair of indestructible sneakers.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #sneaker transformation

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA if I break up with my partner because I think I'm lesbian?

(🪿🫧 To recognize this) this is long, I'm sorry

I (23they/she) have been with my partner C (24they/he) for a little over a year. Some background, I grew up strict Mormon and am still struggling with the internalized homophobia from the teachings of the church. I currently identify as biromantic asexual because I have a hard time with sexual experiences. I have only ever been with people assigned male at birth, all previously cis/het men until my current partner. C identies as Bisexual and has stated previously that they don't mind never being physically intimate sexually.

Recently ive been thinking about afab or feminine adjacent people, no one specific just like day dreaming about a girls and it made me feel a way I never have before, including with previous partners. This is leading me to suspect the only reason I have a hard time with being intimate with previous partners is they were all amab or at the very least just very masculine including C.

This is where I could potentially be the asshole. C has some previous experiences with previous potential partners saying they didn't want to continue citing they're actually lesbian. This has left him super jaded. Especially after they later found out one of them ended up in a cis/het relationship the next month.

He and I have had a rocky last few months due to his housing situation and sometimes lack thereof, job hoping, and not being medicated for bipolar, and me being off my anxiety meds due to new prescription.

He has stable housing and a job now, and I have stabled for the most part myself. I did in the midst of all this bring up the possibility of just being friends due to previous issues and I tried to bring up me struggling with my sexuality. He promised to fix his issues and kind of ignored the issue about my sexuality because he didn't know how to respond to it. He kind of just explained it away.

The problem is, a lot of his friends are my friends too, we work at the same place, and he relies on me a lot for transportation and sometimes monetary help. We don't live together because I'm living with my parents until I go to school. I'm worried about losing our friends or making working together bad.

To be clear I do care about them a lot, he's one of my closest loved ones but I'm not sure it's in the way he wants it to be, and I don't like hurting them, I hate the idea of him not being in my life. He and I are both autistic as well so its kinda hard to really understand what this whole thing means or how to handle it

Any advice is also welcome

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[yesimwriting]

Hi, I'm kind of picky of FF in general, smut especially, but your "Pulling away" is just beyond perfect. Do you maybe have time and the enthusiasm to write something like that again? Not sure what other characters you'd write for (out of your master list) but another Joel would be great anyway. Thank you for your work!

A/n ahh thank you!! the feedback i've gotten on "Pulling Away" has been unbelievable,, and i very rarely usually write smut without being prompted to lol, i feel like it's too obvious that i'm a virgin who has had very few sexual experiences, even less if you don't count the ones i didn't fully consent to,, but that's neither here nor there, i'm doing better now i promise :)

also ik my masterlist is super limited compared to who i actually write for lol,, updating it is my absolute enemy but i'm working on it 😭

also the build up in this fic is criminal!! that's my bad!

Summary: You, Ellie, and Joel have recently decided to permanently settle in Jackson. The promise of stability seems to lead to boundaries adjusting during a sleepless night after Joel appears in your bedroom.

smut warning, 18 plus !!

----

It's existed in him as undeniably and permanently as the lines etched into the slightly calloused skin of the back of his palm. Control is something that Joel Miller knows, something he clings to the same way he keeps a gun in his hand when he needs to.

Control is what keeps him from reacting when your arm moves too carelessly and your elbow manages to push against his ribs. The side that you know is more yellow-purple than the soft tan it should be. If you weren't lying next to him, you would have assumed that the shift of your arm had no affect on him. But you're pressed closer to him than you've ever been, so you can feel the shift despite his intentions. It's subtle. A pinch in his breathing and a brief wave of tension in his spine.

"Sorry," your blurt out is instinctual, and you're not sure if it might be making things worse. You've never been this close to him and it burns so much you can practically feel it melting the thin ice holding the two of you above water.

Burns in a good way. A way that you've only ever felt through brief flutters that have come up more and more recently. Lingering touches patching up injuries, reassuring squeezes of hands that are always brief and never mentioned, the press of Joel's knee against yours as you sat at that table in Jackson, overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers.

And now this. You, Joel, and Ellie had been given a place to stay. You used to dream about your own bed. A safe roof over your head and a clean blanket keeping you warm. Finally getting it left you restless. Being away from Joel and Ellie felt unnatural even if they were in the same building as you. There are so many strangers here, and even though they have no reason to strike you down, it's still weird.

You couldn't help the obsessive thoughts. It felt oddly compulsive, the urge to wrap the two of them up in warm blankets and bubble wrap and just watch them be okay. It's weird, but what can you say, Ellie and Joel are your people.

And then Joel wandered in after some talk with his brother. It had surprised you, considering the way he had avoided you earlier, but you'd never complain about having him close.

You're still not sure how it happened. How Joel started asking you about how you were settling and telling you that Ellie was just fine. He had gone in to check up on her and then lingered until she fell asleep. The thought of that domestic moment made your heart swell and you found yourself relaxing.

Somehow Joel ended up taking some of your covers. There's a draft, it's winter. You forced yourself to not focus on that in any other context. Refused to give it any other meaning. And then he moved closer, eventually laid his head on your pillow. You almost convinced yourself it was just a way to be a little comfortable while keeping up conversation. But then the talk eventually faded and you had to move to let him fit and you ended up like this. Safe and fragile.

This stray from what's normal is okay tonight. Everything is still weird, you three like awkward, feral cats compared to the people of Jackson.

"You're fine," he breathes, voice rough with sleep.

His acceptance is easy but it does nothing to make you less aware of your position. You're more on top of him than you need to be and your mind is suddenly scrambling, trying to remember every injury you've ever seen him receive.

Untangling yourself from the gentle cocoon you've created is an ache in your chest, but the thought of hurting him is worse. You move your leg close to the edge of the bed and start the careful process of retracting your arm.

Joel shifts with a slight sigh, his own hand following your own. He snags your wrist, pulling you back into place. "You're fine." Joel repeats his earlier words, so half thought out and mumbled together you think they might even be sleep idled.

"Careful," you try, fighting against the blood rushing to your face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Joel's hand moves down your forearm with a slowness that almost feels deliberate. You have to press your lips together to keep from exhaling too sharply. He turns his head and even in the dark you can feel the focus of his gaze.

He swallows once, lips parting for a moment before he speaks, "Hurts more the other way." It's vulnerable and not, undercut by something that feels so factual you briefly have to think about whether or not that's physically possible. "It's good pressure."

Your eyebrows draw together at the realization that he's not entirely joking. The audacity. He's always referencing his age and the soreness that's going to have to catch him at one point or another but now there's not a single concern for his joints or potential hip damage. You've always had a feeling that at least a part of that rant has to be bullshit, or at least some kind of exaggeration.

You scoff but make no move to pull away as Joel settles. "I don't believe you." Normally you wouldn't state anything so transparently. Any flash of softness is glass and barely tangible. Trying to grasp it by speaking about in the open makes it vanish. Like waking too suddenly from an incomplete dream. But you don't feel at risk, something about the dark and the warmth and his hand on your forearm. "You're so full of shit--what happened to old man knees and arthritis and hip joint iss-"

"You're making up those last two."

There's silence for a brief moment and then laughter. A stupid burst of giggles that has you forgetting the little bit of normal left. Your forehead briefly falls down, your face pressing against his shoulder as you try to keep it down. He laughs with you after a second, a reluctant, almost annoyed display of amusement.

You're still recovering, breathing a little heavier than usual and coming back enough to realize that this level of closeness may be pushing it. You lift your head just as Joel's hand finds a place between your shoulders. First a fist and then his fingers patiently relaxing. You don't think you've ever been this still in your life.

"I can't keep track of all your old man ailments," it's a whisper that's more against his skin than not.

He lets out a breath, "You needed me to help you onto a horse today."

You halfheartedly glare even though you're too pressed into him for him to be able to see you. "I could do it by myself now." Likely a lie, considering it had only taken a second with Joel's help and the concept of casual horse riding still feels foreign. "I just hadn't ridden one before."

His hand shifts up your back, an unbelieving hum escaping him. Has Joel always been this warm? And somehow both so evidently sturdy but still comfortable? Safe? You don't know what possesses you, maybe it's the urge to not feel so divided from him in any way, but you turn head slightly to make it easier to speak: "You're not actually that old."

He pauses at that, fingertips freezing against the fabric of your pajama shirt. "Older than you."

You let out a sigh, feeling like there's a hint of something else tucked into his words that you're too tired to explore. "So?" He lets out another flat breath, a sound you don't quite understand but makes you want to compensate, "You can get old, though, when it's your time."

He shifts in a way that feels like a combination of stifling a laugh and a display of a touch of reluctant curiosity. "You givin' me permission?"

"Not like that," you shake your head against his arm, "I just--I don't know--I think it'd be good if you got to be old with arthritis and bad hip joints and whatever else happens. It'd mean you were still alive."

You don't realize what you're saying until the words slip out. The blankness of your statement is too honest and you blame the fact that you're actually starting to feel like you could benefit from the sleep you've been putting off. It's instinctual to turn into him in a vain attempt to get closer even though you're already hanging onto him in a way that feels ridiculous. Your fingers curl in to him a little more, clutching at the surprisingly soft fabric of his shirt.

It's a subtle change, but you're not surprised that Joel notices. You are, however, not expecting him to understand. The hand on your back draws up even further, pushing you against him more firmly. Maybe Joel did have a point. Good pressure.

"Don't go thinkin' about it."

For once, you want to listen to him without putting up a fight just to see that line between his forehead reappear. But you can't. It's not that easy. Even here, as safe as it's ever going to get, there's still a chance of loss. And even if the world was perfect and Joel could guarantee that there would never be a dangerous patrol or anything threatening him again, there are still other things that worry you. There's no reason for you all to stay together.

When your only response is to halfheartedly nod so that he can feel the motion, Joel lets out a partial sigh. The movement of his chest is more noticeable than the sound. His hand travels down the expanse of your back, something you only recognize because of the warmth his touch leaves in its wake. You're only half there until his fingers brush against a small expanse of exposed skin where your sleep shirt had ridden up. Nothing insanely suggestive, nothing that should be considered too intimate. It's likely an accident, too. It's too dark for it to be intentional.

Knowing this is not enough to keep your body from tensing. Joel's fingers move upwards with no warning, slipping between the only layer dividing you. The cotton of the T-shirt is trapping him and the heat of his touch as his hand settles on your hip.

"You here?" His question is low, like he's trying to compensate for the hint of worry leaching into his tone. "With me?" The second part of the question is an afterthought, said so quickly and earnestly it feels like an impulse.

You're melting, and you don't mind it all. In fact, you're starting to think you might prefer it. "For now, at least."

It's half joke, half something else. A punch that some cynical, over worrying part of your brain needs to throw. You hope he won't see past the shell of humor, but feel the uphill battle in his silence. In the eventual drag of his thumb across the curve of your hip. The gesture is a contradiction in itself--small and cautious yet so natural. What should feel foreign is so familiar it coats it all in a layer of intimacy that's difficult to just sit with.

An odd sense of almost panic that makes it impossible to think settles in you. Something in you feels like it's burning, a slow fire that's patiently spreading. You don't know if you want him closer or farther or something in between.

The mix of unknown emotions is enough to distract you from your derailing train of thought. Maybe that's the point. Some strategy on Joel's end to force a mental reset. If it is, it's working. You wouldn't say you're breathing any better or more calmly, you're just more aware of the way air enters your lungs and filters right back out. The world seems to be reduced to that. Just your breathing. And Joel.

The little of him you can make out in the dark and the feel of him everywhere without him feeling close enough. He's steady, secure in his firmness like he's some immovable force. Joel is also starting to feel like a natural heater, radiating just enough warmth to make everything comfortable.

What is wrong with you today? These thoughts might be more dangerous than the other ones. They're definitely close to being more overwhelming. All of this has to be in your head, the result of all the feelings you've been attempting quell all day culminating and a touch of something else. The thoughts about Joel that you've been fighting against since you first met him finally winning.

Every time you've forced yourself to stare at your hands after the edge of Joel's shirt rode up as he reached for something or moved a certain way. Every stray thought that rooted itself in your mind like an invasive species while you patched him up after a rough day. Every painfully overwhelming moment where you let yourself get distracted by his hands for reasons you could never justify. Those same hands are on you right now.

Okay--you need to get it together. Stop playing at something that's definitely all in your head. Your eyes drift up, searching for Joel's expression in an attempt to convince yourself to be normal. To remind yourself what's at risk if you don't get what you've been begging yourself not to let be actual romantic feelings in check.

He's already looking at you, eyes focused and jaw so tense you can tell from your position. Joel presses his lips together. The hand that's on you shifts upwards. Nothing drastic, but the heat of his pinky is now melting into the skin above your ribs.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from letting a shaky breath escape you. It's too much and nowhere near enough. It's another contradiction that throws you through a loop. You need him closer and the desire twists at you even further. There's a level of hesitant care in all levels of him. In his touch, in the way he's watching you. Like he just can't help it.

It's so overwhelming you have to do something. So you do the only thing you can think of. You reach out to him. Your hand finds his upper forearm.

The motion seems to shift things. Joel lets out a breath, but it's not the easygoing sound it was earlier. It's strained. "Y'should get some sleep."

You're not all that tired anymore, but his tone and your own confusion makes you want to listen. At least he hasn't done anything to imply that he's leaving.

A part of you wants to leave it at what it is. There's no reason to risk his presence by pushing. You don't know what that last moment was about, but Joel's earlier gruffness from today seems to be coming back. "You okay?" The question feels awkward hanging there on its own. "You've been moody."

The hand still under your shirt adjusts with him. "Moody?"

"Mhm." His fingers ghost up your spine, making it twice as hard to organize your thoughts. "More earlier than now, when..." God, you can barely remember with the way he's tracing patterns onto your skin. "When we were with that group?"

Joel's lips briefly pull into a frown. "I know that Jackson people are a little different than us, but trusting them all so soon--" He cuts himself off briefly. "Just don't think it's a good idea for you to accept it all so--"

He pauses as you shift against him as you move to sit up. Joel watches the separation with sharp caution. He doesn't ease until you settle again, your chin resting against his stomach. "Seriously?" It's a lighthearted enough disagreement. "I'm not overly trusting anything. I feel like a crazy person half the time because I feel like I should be staring down anyone that talks to Ellie or you for a second too long."

The confession eases Joel much more than it should. It's proof that he's been searching for...proof that he's needed. That you're still here. Still his and Ellie's above anything else.

But it's been an unsure couple of days. You're good with people, likable in a natural way. You know how to make people feel easy. It's not your fault that you're the natural communicator in the trio, and it's a good thing that at least one of you is inclined towards that sort of thing. It's just been harder than he thought, to watch people always talk to you, even if it's just a way of communicating something to all three of you. Especially when you smile or laugh as another way to ease them.

It's even worse when it happens to be other men. You don't see it, the way their eyes linger or their tendency to lean in just a little too close. Don't know the way your polite smiles and words draw them in. There isn't exactly a plethora of new women appearing daily, so your novelty is only an amplifier to all your good traits.

Tommy's been giving him shit about it. How long did you have to close the deal on that when you were her only option?

It was an almost brotherly form of teasing, but it still rubbed Joel the wrong way because of how true it is. He can't justify the bitter, protective vile that leaves his chest feeling too tight when he sees how well you fit. How easy it'd be for you to end up with one of the guys from here, closer to your age and a lifetime less of baggage.

Joel hates the breathlessness of it, hates that he has time to think about these kinds of things now. The resentment is too much, bubbles up and comes out in the form of something mean, "Doesn't always look that way."

It's not an overly done insult, and somehow that's worth. Joel's faint accusation is personal and it lands the way he knew it would. You sit up so quickly, Joel can't even try to stop you. "What the fuck does that mean?"

The bed is small, clearly meant for one. Sitting up didn't exactly accomplish what Joel has to assume was your goal--to create distance. You're still tangled together, only it's different now. You're practically sitting on his lap. His mind, which should be focusing on the fact that he's upset you, that he's pushing you in the exact direction he doesn't want you to go in, can only think of your sleep shorts.

Maria promised to get you some pajama pants as soon as some came in, but that hasn't happened yet. Winter makes clothing a little scarce, so you've been managing in a pair of elastic shorts. Thin, elastic shorts.

"Just that it looks like you've been getting comfortable. Trusting others, spending time with Ben."

Your lips pull into a firm pout. "I'm not going out of my way to trust shit. Yeah, I talk to a lot of people, but that's just because I rather that than have them talk to you or Ellie first. It--it feels safer that way."

There's such a genuineness in that, Joel almost feels bad, almost feels the need to back step. But your indignation at the implication that you're trying to leave is too alleviating. Until you try to crawl towards the edge of the bed. Away from him.

Joel props himself up on his elbow and reaches for you. His hand finding your forearm feels like giving something up. A silent, too raw plea for you not to go. He knows it isn't quite that in so many words, but you understand. You always do in your talent for feeling the way he bends for you when he can.

For a moment, that's it. Just his hand on your arm, still perched on the edge of the bed, still flighty. One move and you might be gone. It'd be so easy.

Joel's never really considered himself a pissing on his territory type of person or one to be found of dependents, but he'd be lying if he didn't say Jackson didn't worry him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's been rough to travel with and that he's taken time to get to here, but you've always stayed close. Some of that must have been influenced by survival.

Not that Joel wants you to stick around because you have no other choice. He'd never use that against you, it's just something that he wonders about from time to time. A fear that this might be how he finds out that's the only reason the two of you have been together for so long.

He's been thinking about loss more lately. After the decision he made, after what almost happened to Ellie. Losing Sarah left him stagnant for 20 years and some days that grief still flares up and makes breathing feel impossible. It's a wound that will never fully heal, and maybe that's for the best. Hurt means not forgetting, but Joel knows he doesn't have anymore of that left in him.

What if he did just fuck everything up? Not just for him, but for Ellie as well. He sees the way she looks at you, like you're everything. He's peered into your mornings together, the world that is your little routine and your inside jokes. If he messed all of that up because he only knows how to be an asshole when any type of feeling comes up...

Joel knows action better than he knows words. Caring is easier an action, and so is apology. His hand releases your forearm, trailing down your arm and settling on your exposed thigh. When you don't push him away or try to move, Joel feels like he can fully inhale again.

"You know my priorities, right?" Your voice sounds more hesitant than before. Nervous. "It's you and Ellie. It's been you and Ellie and nothing's going to change that. It doesn't matter if we're here for two more days or two more decades."

A pinch of guilt rises in his chest. Normally that level of promise would make him feel the need to cut all ties. Safer that way. But Joel doesn't want to hold you at arm's length, not right now. Carefully, his hand moves forward, closer to your inner thigh than knee.

He should say something. Admit to his own insecurity or apologize. "I know," is all that comes out, even though it doesn't really matter, you have every right to walk away. Your eyes still soften, though, like he managed to come close to saying what you needed to hear. "I shouldn't have said that."

His hand moves up even further and this time you have to react, your breath catching itself on your throat. The noise fucking gets to him. Gets to him in a way nothing has in a minute.

"You're kind of an asshole, sometimes," it's breathed out in a way that feels like you're accepting his apology, "And it's only going to get worse as you settle into your old age."

There it is. The joke was forced through the uneven timbre of your breathing, but it's there. All you, all forgiveness in the way the corner of your mouth turns upwards.

Joel's thumb drags across the soft skin of your inner thigh, "So now I'm already there?"

You blink, unsure on how to react to anything with his hand tenderly working the skin of your inner thigh. Everything in you is only capable of focusing on the feeling, of chasing it. "Getting there." Joel's thumb and pointer finger briefly pinch at your skin in a way that has to be intentional, right? His touch is approaching the end of your shorts.

The closer he gets, the worse the distance feels. Your face feels like it's burning at the thought. This is Joel, not some random guy that things could be casual with. Or maybe he could be casual, but you--god, you're getting ahead of yourself. This isn't--it--

"Too old?" Joel stretches forward, sitting up a little more. "You lookin' for younger like Ben?"

There's something odd in his tone. A flat attempt at humor that misses because it's too straightforward. Ben. Again. This is the second time his name's come up tonight. Why? And that's not even the strangest part. His assumption is what sticks out the most.

"I'm not..." Fuck, his hands are killing you. "I'm not looking. Not actively and if I..." Okay, it's officially too much, he's turning you into a transparent puddle. His hand pauses and pulls back down, settling on your knee. Firmly. Unbudging in a silent demand to continue.

He traces circles onto your knee with his thumb. "You can say it," he encourages in a way that feels like he's patronizing you.

The words feel like too much. Some lines might have been crossed today, but nothing life changing. You two could still dismiss the whole thing, crawl beneath thin sheets, fall asleep, and wake up the next morning like nothing ever happened. But his hands on your thigh and the needy ache you're not sure you fully understand it left you with. And what it felt like to have him closer.

Joel's sitting up fully now, waiting. "If I was looking, it wouldn't be at Ben, it'd be..." His hand calmly trails back to its previous spot on your leg with each of your words. Fuck, you're struggling to think again. "At you."

At that, his fingers push upwards, touching directly between your legs. "Really?" He's quick to create a steady rhythm, pulsing his pointer and middle finger at a speed that makes it impossible to breath. Your eyes screw shut so tightly you see stars. "You're so wet, can feel it through those shorts of yours."

The way Joel's voice catches on itself makes a weak sound slip out. You'd be embarrassed by it if he gave you the chance to be, but before you can even think twice about it, Joel's free hand finds the back of his head. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you forward so harshly you try to gasp. The sound doesn't make it out, Joel's mouth is on yours before it has a chance.

He holds you against him as he takes his time pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth and letting his tongue glide over the bites. Your mouth opens for him instinctually, asking for more.

Joel's taking his time and moving at a speed that has him everywhere all at once as his fingers continue to work you through the fabric that divides you. He releases you with no warning, the hand at the back of your head finding a new place right beneath your chin. His fingers pause, forcing out an instinctual whine.

He's panting near your ear in a way that makes you miss his touch even more. "So this is all for me, sweetheart?" His eyes flit from your face back down to your lips.

Even though the question is dripping with roughness, there still manages to be a hint of something else there. Something genuine. It doesn't matter, though, because all you have the willpower to do is nod. Joel turns his head, pressing a kiss to your temple that's so close to tender it leaves you spinning. He trails the barely there kisses down to your ear before whispering, "Then prove it."

The word's send a jolt through you. "Prove it?"

Joel tugs you closer, you listen clambering back to where you were before trying to leave. Joel rests his back against the wall and makes a point of extending one leg. You don't fully get it until he's helping you ease onto his thigh. The material of his sweats is nowhere near enough.

"Joel--"

"Sh," he hums, soothingly as he runs a hand up and down your back, "It's okay, sweetheart." The hand that's still on your hip squeezes firmly. "I've got you, y'know that." He helps pull you forward on his thigh and the pressure after so long without nothing hits you harder than you thought it would. "There you go," you push down harder, faster, "Just like that."

The longer you go, the more Joel encourages you, whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement as the knot in your stomach continues to grow until your body feels it. You're seizing up, body ready to throw itself off of a ledge. Your thigh squeezes around his leg, which must be how Joel knows you're close, because before you can find release, his hand is leaving your back and moving onto your arm. In one, fluid motion that should be impossible, he flips you two.

Your back is on the mattress and Joel's above you, pinning you in place with his body. You can feel him, all of him, hard and struggling between the layers that divide you.

Your lips part, but you don't know what to say. You're still reeling from your stolen orgasm, and you're not sure if you want to curse him out for it or simply ask why and how. Bad back your ass the way he just turned the two of you over with no real effort.

Before a single sound can come out of you, Joel folds the edge of the T-shirt you sleep in, exposing your stomach. A fluttery kiss to newly exposed skin. Again and again until he has to push up even more of your shirt to continue. "This," his voice comes out lower, harder as he tugs at the fabric, "Off."

You sit up just enough to help him tug the shirt off as quickly as possible. The desperation makes it harder than it ever should be to take off a shirt, but the offensive piece of fabric eventually finds its way to the floor.

The bareness you feel is startling, even in this level of darkness. Joel doesn't give you a chance to let your mind wander or insecurity take root. His mouth is exploring the newly exposed skin immediately. It's a rabid mix of love bites and placating the irritated marks with soft passes of his tongue and genuine, devoted kisses.

It's then that you realize there's a reason he's taking his time. He's definitely hard, you can feel him pressing against your thigh, but that doesn't matter to him. He's taking his time because he can. Because he's enjoying it, getting off on having you writhing and desperate under him.

"Joel," your voice is so small it feels like it belongs to someone else.

He pauses, lifting his head just enough that the scruff of his facial hair scratches comfortingly against your skin. A reminder that he's still him. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You carefully lift a hand, making sure your movements are easy to follow in the dark. Joel lets your fingers settle in his hair. "Need more-need you."

"I know, sweetheart." His voice is low and soft, impossible to not trust. "You can wait a little longer." His teeth drag against your skin again. "Can't you, baby?"

Fuck, he could ask you anything like that and you'd have to say yes. "Mm."

He takes it as the answer it's supposed to be. Joel goes back to it until his fingers finally snag around the elastic band of your shorts. In one swift motion, he tugs it and your underwear away, leaving you fully exposed. He gives no warning before moving his mouth to your thighs, slowly moving up until the only thing left is your center.

With no warning, Joel licks through your folds. You practically cry out. "I know, sweetheart," he mumbles, barely looking up, "You can take it."

After that, he picks up the pace. Just as you think you're going to get used to the overwhelming pleasure, Joel moves his hand down your waist to use his thumb against your clit. Fuck. You're panting, whining, begging.

Joel groans. "You're close, I can feel you." His fingers replace his mouth, "You gonna come?" Another whine, like your body has forgotten how to make any other sound. "Yeah?" He's picking up the pace, pushing his fingers into you in a way that hits you somewhere deep. "Come on my fingers, sweetheart, I've got you."

His pace reaches its peak and his thumb works at your clit until you're finally pushed over the edge. Joel reaches you before you can scream, muffling the sound of your orgasm by pressing his lips to yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he works you through your high. Joel knows when to stop, when the pleasure comes close to bordering on painful, he moves his hand back up your waist and focuses on just kissing you.

After a few minutes, you regain control of your thoughts. The urge to pull him closer takes over once again. Without thinking, you're tugging at the hem of his shirt. You almost think twice about it, but decide that it's only fair. He's touched so much of you and seen even more. All while fully clothed.

You're not as good or tactful about it as he is, likely due to the gap in your experience, but Joel picks up on what you want. He pulls away cautiously, eyebrows furrowing together like he's debating before finally giving in.

He discards his shirt just as carelessly as he got rid of his own. Joel tries to reconnect the two of you together again before you can take full note of him. It's a tactic you find the strength to beat, turning your head just enough to indicate that you're pausing.

Joel allows that, stills against with no protest. The silent promise that it's your pace is comforting. You let your eyes rake over his chest in what you hope is subtle, but really doubt actually comes off that way. You can feel him tense under your gaze. You stretch out a hand carefully, touching him because you can. Your attention focuses on the details that you can make out despite the limited light. A few marks of varying sizes are visible across his skin.

Scars. You wonder how many of them there are and the stories behind each. What it'd feel like to touch and learn each of them until they're as familiar as the lines of your palms. Your hand drifts down, faintly touching a particularly long mark.

Joel's hand moves, catching your wrist before you can make it any further. You frown up at him. "I want--"

"I--" He cuts himself off, unsure on how to explain it. You deserve to know what a war it will be to get him to open up, but he doesn't want that to change things. "Not yet, okay?" He squeezes your hand in his. "I'm not an easy person to care about, to get close to, but I--I can try to--"

"I disagree." He frowns at being cut off, but lets you continue. "And you don't have to worry about forcing anything right now, whatever you have to give, that's what I want."

That's all it takes. Joel crashes his mouth to yours, holding you there for much longer than before. He shifts away just enough to be able to pull down his pants. He strokes himself briefly before lining himself up with your entrance.

Joel enters you with no warning, easing himself in until your hips are pressed together. You're a mess despite his soothing words. He pulls back and pushes back, again and again until all you're seeing is white, blinding pleasure. "Fuck!"

"You're squeezin' me so good, sweetheart," his groans are hot and heavy against the shell of your ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he's losing his tact, his movements becoming more and more desperate. "You gonna come with me?"

You nod, eyes screwing shut as Joel picks up the pace until you're a mess again. He clamps a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm hits you fast and hard. It takes all of Joel's strength to pull out before finishing.

He lets himself relax against you after, a mess of sweaty limbs as you both recover. After a minute, Joel sits up. "You leaving?"

Joel brushes back your hair out of your face gently. "No, sweetheart, just need to get something to clean you up, okay?" You're about to protest again, but Joel beats you to it, "You don't want to sleep like this." When your only reaction is to pout up to him and cling to his arm, Joel leans down and finds a shirt to offer you. "Ellie's an early riser that never learned how to knock. You want to deal with this in the morning while pretending you're not?"

That's a point that sticks. You could probably explain Joel being in here early in the morning or he could climb out of your bed at first sunlight to keep this from being weird for Ellie...but your current state? Yeah, that's undeniable. "Come back?"

Joel squeezes your hand, taking a moment to watch your small expression fondly. "Promise."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfic #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

[blanketbvby]

A Demon's Guide to Anthropology

part: 3

Word count: 657

Tags: use of 'MC's and they/them pronouns, sensory sensitivity on MC's end, written to be seen as sensory processing disorder, written based on my experience with it but I tried to change it to be broader

Word: "sensory"

Beel's time to shine :], also this is genuinely such bad writing I'm sorry, gonna come back and edit this to be better some day lol

★• ——— –– -

Beelzebub is a lot more perceptive than people like to give him credit for. With brothers like his and being an athlete, he has to be in order to know what's going on.

Which is why it doesn't take him long to notice the way that MC shies away from a lot of foods, clothes, and objects. Completely random to the common eye, but Beelzebub is most concerned with the food issue.

It's not like MC doesn't eat, not at all, they're healthy and never skin out on a good, fresh meal, but they're always so odd with what they eat.

Meats are off the table most of the time, which isn't all that bad. A lot of people just don't like meat. But some drinks and a good few veggies and fruits added onto that is what confuses him.

Maybe MC was just a picky eater, which again is fine, Devildom foods are weird to get used to, but it also seemed prevalent in human foods, too. To Beel, it seemed completely random, from a few spicy foods to a few sweets and sours, in his eyes he couldn't find a common connection.

So with a breath, he knocked on MC's door and entered when he was allowed.

Beelzebub wasn't normally so nervous or anxious, but he knew human bodies were delicate and didn't want MC and their odd aversions to certain objects or foods to somehow leave a bad mark.

"MC," he began after entering and shutting the door. The human sat in their bed with their D.D.D. in hand, "I have a question."

Intruiged and curious as always, MC responds.

"What's up, Beel? Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" MC blinks, a little caught off guard at the vague question. The giant demon stood above them, looking down and vaguely reminding the human of a large dog looking at a toy it was attached to.

"Uh- elaborate?"

"You don't eat some stuff and you don't touch some things."

To their credit, MC understood after a moment, and they tried not to seem rude by the way they gave a laugh and smile, shaking their head.

"Do you mean how I don't like touching certain fabrics or eating certain foods?" The ginger nodded at the question.

"That's kinda common for humans," MC explained, "It's called sensory sensitivity. Some textures feel really bad to touch or to eat, so I tend to avoid them. Nothing is wrong with me, I promise."

Beelzebub nodded in solemn understanding, sitting beside the mortal on the rather Plush and comfortable bedding. In his hands was a small box of cookies he knew they favored a lot that he'd taken with him. It took everything in Beelzebub's power not to tear the box open and have at the cookies himself.

"So you can't have some foods or wear some things because they feel weird?"

MC nodded, though they didn't seem very down about it. To them, it was simply another day like any other, knowledge as common as grass is green and Luke despises anything demonic.

To Beelzebub, though, it solidified his resolve as he passed the now opened box of cookies over, one in hand and another in his mouth.

"What food can you not have? I'll eat them for you."

The serious expression to the previous words caused another laugh to bubble out of MC, and they took their own cookie from the box.

"It's hard to explain, but I'll pass you any whenever they come with a meal I have. Deal?"

Beelzebub nodded and put a hand on MC's head (the demon struggled sometimes with such casual affection and touch with most people, but had recently picked up on simply resting a hand on the mortal's head and leaving it there for a minute), and after a few moments a comfortable silence and sharing cookies, he spoke once more.

"Hell's Kitchen?"

"Hell's Kitchen."

#blanketbvby #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #i did beel's so dirty im sorry 😭

[xvxni]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

#the vampire diaries #tvd #the mikaelsons #the originals #xvxni posts #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore angst #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fluff #tvdu #tvd imagine #damon x y/n #damon salvatore x y/n #stefan salvatore #elena gilbert

[lcvesjj]

Helloo 😊 can I pleeeeaase ask you for a Connor Rhodes imagine where you're a nurse and dating Connor but recently didn't have much time together so you barely talk and your mood is not the best. So you also don't tell him that you're feeling not well and suffer from chest pain. One time you pass out during your shift and Connor gets called immediately by Maggie and is worried as hell. He stays by your side the whole time till you wake up and first lectures you why you didn't talk to him but as you tell him you didn't want to put more on his plate he feels bad for not being there for you and promises this will change? I craaaave some Connor fluff if that's fine with you 🩷

Title : "Talk to me"

A/n : I loveeeee Connor fluff! thank you for this request and I hope you’ll enjoy reading! :) (sorry it took me so long to write this)

Warnings : passing out, hospitals, tiny bit of angst (if there is anything I should add please lmk!)

Lately Med was really busy since it was the middle of a hot summer and nearly everyone was on summer break or something. Which meant you and Connor couldn't spend as much time together as you used to. Usually you would at least have the time to eat a meal together or just talk, but now you both barely had the time. Which made your mood a little sour. 

You also started to experience some chest pain and you were feeling sick, but you decided to not tell Connor about it since you knew he had a lot going on. And you didn’t want to burden him with your problems. 

That was until one morning you just felt horrible, but you knew you had to go to work since the ER would be crowded and you just brushed it off thinking it's not that big of a deal. Maggie immediately saw something was wrong as soon as you stepped into the ER.

While heading towards the breakroom you started to feel dizzy and the world began to spin. Before you knew it your legs gave up under you and you nearly collapsed onto the floor. 

Luckily Will was following you and he caught you in time. “MAGGIE!” He yelled, gently placing you onto the ground. Maggie quickly ran over and ordered Will to take you to an empty spare room while she paged Connor.

Connor ran as fast as he could to the ER as soon as Maggie paged him. “How is she?” He panted leaning on the door to your room. “She’s alright, just a little dehydrated and weak. Y/n is currently asleep but you’re welcome to stay here till she wakes up.” Maggie smiled, patting his shoulder and walking out.

Softly walking up to your bed, he sat down next to you, intertwining your fingers together. He was exhausted and he felt guilty since recently he barely spent time with you. It made him feel like the worst boyfriend ever.

Connor simply sat down next to your bed and grabbed you hand, softly tracing small shapes into your palm. Sighing to himself, he kept on asking the same question over and over again in his head. “Why didn’t I notice something was wrong?”

And he sat like that in the uncomfortable hospital chair, holding your hand while waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Maggie came in to check on you and bring Connor some water, gently saying that he should also stay hydrated.

He was beginning to fall asleep when he felt that you were starting to wake up. Getting up as fast as he could, he yelled for a doctor, while reaching to check if you were alright.

You woke up feeling so confused. The last thing you remembered was walking towards the breakroom and then collapsing and now you were in a hospital bed. “Y/n you scared me so badly. Are you feeling any better?” Connor asked, leaning down to place a small kiss on your forehead. You just nodded in response, feeling to weak to speak. 

After Will finished checking you over, he announced that he would go get your discharge papers ready. Connor just nodded and sat back down, still holding onto your hand. “What happened?” He asked you, looking at you with concern written all over his face. “I started feeling dizzy and then I just collapsed…” You trailed off, not looking Connor in the eyes.

“C’mon sweetheart. Talk to me, what’s wrong?” Connor replied, placing a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you with how I’m feeling, since I know you have a lot going on and I just…I just didn’t want to bother you with the random chest pains I’ve been having and stuff.” You mumbled, Connor sighed at your words. 

“Y/n/n you have nothing to apologise for. You didn’t do anything wrong. I should be the one apologising to you. Since I never wanted to make you feel less important to me or something. I promise this will change. I’m really sorry, I never wanted for you to feel like you couldn't talk to me. No matter what, I'm here for you and once again I’m really sorry.” He said sadly. You could see how bad he was now feeling. 

“I love you Connor and I always will. C’mere.” You said, shuffling a little on your hospital bed, so that Connor could sit down next to you. Pulling him into a big hug you simply sat like that holding each other. He pulled away for a second, to place a soft kiss onto your lips. “I love you more Y/n/n. Just please don’t ever scare me like that again.” You nodded in response, while Connor simply buried his face into your neck. 

Nothing else mattered in that moment.

#one chicago #chicago med imagine #chicago med fanfiction #chicago med #one chicago imagine #one chicago x reader #chicago med x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader

[adsmae]

ꜱᴛᴀʏ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

You and Rodrick recently had a bad fight and it ended up with you ignoring him for days. Every time he tried texting you or calling, you would ignore.  You kept re-hashing what went down that day. You were upset that he was being secretive and sneaky around you. You noticed before everything that he would turn his phone away from you anytime you saw him texting. It made you think of the thing you both promised each other; loyalty. Every bit of you wanted to trust him But you couldn't. Maybe Heather finally gave him the attention he craved and you were just a second choice. After all you've only been dating Rodrick 6 months.

After a long day of doing nothing but laundry and moping around, you decided it was best to take a break from everything. You have been so upset about the fight you had with Rodrick that you forgot about yourself and what was important. You just wanted to chill and get things off your mind. It was getting dark out so it was the perfect time. It lead you to call the only person you could think of.

"Hey Bill. I know it's late but I was wondering if you could do a favor for me?"

"Y/n! heyyy. What can I help you out with little lady?"  

"Uh- well,  I was thinking you could get me some liquor. I'll give you money if you bring it"

"Hmm…okay. Is everything alright? You never drink."

"Mhm mh… yeah everything is fine. Now are you going to get it for me or not?"

"Sure thing. I'll see you in about 10 minutes."

And with that you hung the phone up and waited patiently.

You knew what you were doing wasn't the smartest Idea but you wanted to take a risk. You weren't a goody two shoes but you weren't so bad either. You've never smoked, drank, or did any drugs but you have done things that you probably could have easily died from like; Hiking with Rodrick at the Burnside lake. It was quite the experience.

As you thought of all the bad things that you've done and haven't done, you heard a car pull up. You jumped up from you bed and walked straight downstairs and out the door to the end of your driveway. The cool breeze hitting your cheeks and a blondie in your sight.

"Hey y/n. I hope this is okay for you." Bill smiled as he handed you the bagged bottle of liquor.

"Yeah it's fine. Thanks"  You quickly shove the bottle in your zip up hoodie

"I hate to ask but does Rodrick know about this?" Bill asked with concern.

"This doesn't concern him. I should probably go inside."

"Uh yeah..right. The money?" Bill looked around and whispered.

You roll your eyes "Here." You hand him a 20 dollar bill and head inside.

When you get to your room you grab the  'life is peachy' Cd by Korn and play Good God on your player. You walk over to your bed and sit down and grab the wrapped bottle from your night stand and unwrap the bottle.

"I guess this will do" You shrug and grab the cup that you brought from downstairs from your night stand.

You watched as the clear liquid filled the cup but realized that you didn't have anything to chase it with. You didn't really care but your friends always say "If you don't have anything to drink liquor with then why are you drinking?" You ignored it anyway.

"Here's to my boyfriend that I apparently know nothing about" You raise your glass to the fake audience and shoot back the harsh liquid in your throat.

***

It's been about 30 minutes and you were really starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. You were jumping around and dancing like a crazy person. You were so drunk you started laughing at your own jokes that you could barely speak out.

"Why haven't I done this beforeee oh my god this is soooooo fun ahaha"

You began to get dizzy so you walk over to your Cd player and pause the music to take a moment to breath.

*Tick…Tick…Tick*

Just as you were about to go sit down, you heard tapping and ticking noises at your window. You weren't sure who it was but you were curious.

You open your window and appear down at the dark figure with messy dark hair. Just what you needed right now.

"Rodrick? What the hell?" You quietly yelled from your window.

"Y/n Can I come up?" Rodrick carefully asked. You were contemplating it but you didn't have the energy to think.

"Yeah sure" You left the window open and rushed to your bed and waited for the emo boy. You missed him but you were still mad at the fact he hasn't told you why he was being secretive or what was going on.

Rodrick slid in and closed your window and locked it before walking to you

"I know you probably don't want to see me r-" You cut him off

"Why have you been sneaky around me? I thought we w-were honest with each other." You said with a bewildered tone. Your eyes locked onto his and that's when Rodrick knew he extremely screwed up. You had the look of disappointment and he didn't ever want to make you feel like that towards him.

"That's why I'm here. I want to explain to you that it's nothing you're thinking" Rodrick sat next to you on the bed.

"Sh-so then what is it?" You slurred out. You notice Rodrick's confused face.

"Wait- have you been drinking?" He looked you up and down and glanced around the room and saw a half drunken  bottle of liquor on your night stand. You knew he was going to be pissed and angry but you didn't care

"Yeah I have. Sh-so  wh-what" You rolled your eyes and laid back on your forearms. Rodrick looked at you with guilt written on his face.

Rodrick shook his head "Forget it. Let's get you some water." He grabbed the cup from your night stand and walked to your joined bathroom.

"Here" Rodrick handed you to cup of water and sat down next to you.  You took a few gulps then put it down on your desk.

"Why are you taking care of me right now?"  You questioned. He furrowed his brows in response and scooted closer to you.

"Because that's my job. Jeez I'm not a bad boyfriend." He reached for your hand and clasped his hand with yours. You couldn't help but smile at the way he was being with you.

"I unfortunately agree. Is-it's so hard for me to be mad at you." You confessed.

Rodrick laughed before sighing "You should probably try to lay down and rest" He stated.

"Yeah but-"

"We can talk tomorrow. Just lay down." He unshed you to get in the covers.

You rolled your eyes and nodded. He tucked the blanket around your figured and started heading towards the window.

"Rodrick?" You called out.

"Yeah? is everything okay?" He turned around.

"Yeah. Can you stay?"  You asked with a soft tone. You felt bad for everything you had put him through tonight and with him having to deal with your mess.

"Yeah but are you sure?" Rodrick walked to the side of the bed and stood in front of you.

You turn to look up at Rodrick "Mhm. I'm very sure" You replied and moved closer to the wall for Rodrick.

He couldn't refuse the offer. He missed you so much and wanted everything to be normal. Rodrick took his shoes and shirt off before turning the lights off. He walked over to your bed and slid under the covers.

"C'mere" Rodrick whispered. You scooted closer and laid your head on his chest. It felt just right being in his arms. You hated to admit it but you've missed this. His fingers tracing circles on the side of your hip and you having your hand placed on his chest occasionally tracing it. It was very comforting to say the least.

"I've missed this." You whisper softly. You felt him move you closer.

"I've missed you stupid." Rodrick chortled out softly.

"Goodnight Rockstar" You smile. You felt him kiss the back of your head.

"Goodnight beautiful."

(N/A this kinda sucked but I hope everyone had a good day/ night. Comment some ideas of what or who I should write about next)

#rodrick x reader #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrickheffley #emo kid #emo boy #not my rodrick #oneshot #greg heffley #rodrick imagine #rodrick smut

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Part One | Part Three

With your Captain at the brink of death and little supplies left to keep you covered, the two of you do what little you can to hold out and distract yourselves until help arrives.

TW//: Blood, Mentions of Death

Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Suspense, Tense, Near Death Experiences, Confessions of Love, Light Fluff, Confessions, Light Bickering, canon inaccuracies probably, but hopefully not, slight character study, medical inaccuracies, I'm no nurse, I'm a film major :(, a mopey rollercoaster, but the ending is worth it hopefully

Word Count: 4.2k

Took me a few days to ponder what I wanted to do with this (I'm so indecisive), but at last, I finished. I wanted it to be sad, I'm not sure if I succeeded, but I promise it's not pointlessly sad (probably isn't even sad). Also, let me know if I should follow this up with a Part 3 (which would be the final part of this, might do it any way but if this was actually garbage I will keep it pushin'). Regardless, I had fun typing this, I felt rusty typing something actually angsty. I hope you enjoy! ( ㄕཀ ʖ̯ ཀ)

taglist: @tapioca-marzipan @spooky-pomegranate

Thank you again, I hope it was worth the wait (T^T)>

Stay awake. You tell yourself again and again -- stay awake. Don't succumb to the fatigue, ignore the pain in your arm, and keep your foot on the gas. It's either that or you lose Price right here and now.

You look over at your Captain after five more minutes had passed, with nothing but the rocky road and its hills ahead of you to keep you company. Price kept his pistol in hand and his tired blue eyes on the perimeter outside the convoy. He didn't have much to say anymore; it was taking all his energy just not to bleed to death.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he forcibly conjured out of himself. By now his blood stained his seat, growing larger with each hill you've passed. Your Captain would be an angel already had you not found more supplies in the vehicle to temporarily patch him up with. Though he seemed adamant about staying alive, nonetheless.

The night sky darkens, and the road ahead demonstrates its need to be endless. Price had told you before that he had no intention of bleeding to death. You desperately want to believe him.

Clouds roll over the moon, which for a while had shared its glow alongside the headlights of your recently stolen convoy. Its absence only makes you feel more boxed in, placed behind the wheel with your dying Captain. The outskirts of Urzikstan appear an even less welcoming place than before. With its encompassing darkness, your fears of what lie in them only grew, the longer you drove and yet to encounter your destination.

The hills now tower around your vehicle like walls, painted pitch black, becoming mountainous the further out you drive. Had you not seen the fallback zone around the corner, you would have thought yourself lost.

You park the convoy a short ways to the rear of the location: a small, rundown house long abandoned since all the fighting in the area re-escalated. The house was on the outskirts of some empty town not too far away that both AQ, the Russians, and the locals avoided, seeing as the next nearest town was where you just left, and anywhere beyond this point was under AQ and Russian control. It should be a safe place to lie low until your exit is available again.

Price made sure there were a few safe areas to fall back to, in case things went wrong during the mission. Which they most certainly did. You wouldn't even have needed to be here in the first place, had everything not continued to go wrong after acquiring the vehicle. Your bad luck has hopefully since ceased.

However, the night hadn't been over yet. That much had been proven true only a half hour ago.

In a matter of minutes after making your vehicular getaway, AQ had caught up to you, all in convoys, and armed to the teeth. Had Nikolai not been around the corner with his helicopter, you and Price would have surely been run off the road at some point, being as injured as you both are and with hardly any ammo left to spare.

You could only see in your rearview mirror the destruction Nikolai created behind you, the sky having lit up with the flames of your unwanted pursuers. It had almost been perfect, until shrapnel and gunfire damaged Nikolai's helicopter too much during that last-second rescue, forcing him to retreat.

You could still picture watching him fly away, seeing that shadowy monstrosity fly off into the sky, until the hills had swallowed it whole. Watching your only exit out of here fly off into the distance absolutely gutted you. The small sliver of hope you hadn't yet lost had all but gone away with him. Yet you knew it was the safest thing to do. Your LZ had been compromised, and it wouldn't have done any good if you all piled on just to get blasted out of the sky moments later.

So instead, a change of plans was made. Nikolai, being the resourceful individual he was, had other means of escape worked out. He just needed to get there first.

Knowing this, your new objective had been clear and simple for you both: Stay alive.

You park the convoy and shut the vehicle off, watching the headlights die and a chilling silence fall in the air. All you can really do is take a moment and breathe.

Your right arm -- still very much broken and in pain -- rested limply in your lap, begging for a sling. A throbbing headache has not left you since taking that RPG blast only an hour or so ago. With having to wait to be saved now, time felt as though an hourglass had just been rested on its side.

You peek back through your window, seeing the empty hills behind you. No one's been in pursuit since Nikolai's interference earlier. Hopefully, their absence meant you'd finally lost them. You felt you had run all out of hope tonight, yet it's all that felt real and obtainable anymore.

"It seems quiet enough," you start to unbuckle your seat belt. "It's probably safe to head inside now."

You wait for your Captain's reply, only to be met with silence.

"Price?"

You look over to find the Captain lying slumped against his seat, his eyes closed and as still as a statue. The sight makes your blood run cold and your heart quake with fear.

"...Price," you reach over and rest a hand on his shoulder, beginning to shake him. Praying that he'll wake up. "Price, stay with me, Captain. Come on, wake up."

You shake and shake him, but the man doesn't budge from his sudden unconsciousness, his body only moving along to the hold you had over his shoulder. At each little shove you make of him, your eyes further lock on the still features of his face, desperation filling you.

You've tried so hard to keep your composure tonight, if not for yourself then for him. You had wanted to return the favor for all the times he's helped you from the brink of death before. The many times Price has been your last glimmer of hope when you feared none was there to have. You wanted to be that for him now. To show him he needn't shoulder such things alone. He couldn't die now.

"Price, please-"

The Captain starts to cough himself out of whatever slumber he'd found himself in, his face grimacing with pain as he hugged his wounded side. "I'm good..." he claims. "...'ave we made it?"

You look at Price, frustrated at his cavalier attitude, despite having been so used to it before. Frankly, your emotions could not handle it at the moment, given the fact that only a second ago you could have sworn he'd just died.

"It's getting worse," you state.

"I'll be fine," he protests.

"Price," he can hear in your tone you're trying to be real with him now. "Just because you wanna act like it's nothing, doesn't mean that it is-"

"Last I checked, we've little time for us to fuck about right now, lieutenant."

"You just passed out."

Price opened his mouth, prepared to argue more, but pauses when he realizes that he can't really argue at all. He had passed out, and he wasn't so prideful to claim that it wouldn't happen again either. So he instead settles down, allowing you to take the reigns and go back to focusing on the important matters.

"...I know," he says. "I'm sorry... Are you holding up alright?"

"I'm doing better than you."

Then that's what matters most, Price had thought. "I don't doubt it," he says. "And here I was hopin' I'd go out in a more dignified fashion than this-"

"Stop it," you take his hand again, shutting down whatever pity talk he was beginning to spew. Not wanting it to worry you that he's gotten to this point. "Look, we're at the safehouse now. That should make not bleeding to death a hell of a lot easier."

"Or at least more comfortable," Price quips. Though your humorless expression only makes him digress. "There should be more supplies inside."

"Let's just get inside before you pass out again."

It's a struggle to get him inside, and twice as much a struggle to patch his wound up. Price had the place generously stocked with a resupply of weapons, ammo, and medkits, though it wouldn't be enough to change the current dilemma that your Captain was in.

Once your arm had been slung (DIY style), you immediately tended to Price. However, having to help stitch with your non-dominate hand was an absolute nightmare, as much as your Captain tried to take over for himself. His hands had grown too shaky to hold the needle, it would slip from his grasp every so often, and you hadn't wanted to see him grow more frustrated with the task.

Of course, watching you struggle to stitch only upset him more. You were mostly silent, though Price would see your throat move hesitantly, swallowing heavily at every sudden urge that came to you that wanted to cry. You hadn't wanted to in front of your Captain, you didn't want him to worry about you.

You wouldn't let any amount of hindrances stop you, you closed the wound, redressed it, and checked on it a second time before Price finally had to tell you it would hold. Though closed or not, it mattered little. He'd lost so much blood at this point that it was a miracle he wasn't dead already.

But miracles only last for so long.

In and out of consciousness, Price thought a lot about how silly it would be if he bled to death right now. In such a helpless state, forced to rely on his subordinate to keep him alive. Someone who had felt more than a subordinate, now more than ever. You've seen him blown out of the sky, near beaten to death, stabbed, shot, and then some.

Twenty years of all the shit he's been through in the force, and a gut wound from shrapnel is what takes him out. He almost found it funny.

Price has told himself his whole life he'd be ready when the time comes. He accepts death every day he wakes in the morning and steps out the door. It didn't mean he'd lay down and die, however, ironic now. One way or another, the man just always knew that when he went out it would be fighting. Because he's fought his whole life, it's all he knows how to do.

All he could ever ask for is to die doing what he loves, and this had been that. However, now that this love has brought him here beside you, giving him the fate he's all but manifested for himself, over years of growing pessimism and a longing to be dignified, suddenly, he finds it funny how life can be. Now all of a sudden he doesn't feel so ready to go. He thought he'd be more prepared.

And it's what's killing him most of all. This helplessness death has now brought him.

Had Price not gone ahead and made sure Nikolai stashed medical supplies in the safehouse in advance, he's certain he would be dead right now. Though as it's been said before, the night's not over yet.

"Lieutenant..." Price calls to you faintly.

You look over at the Captain, seeing him still seated beside you, his back resting against the living room wall. Though he still looked pale, cold sweat dotting his skin, and with labored breaths, at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. You did what you could with what was available, however, you were no field medic.

"What's up?" you reply, though your attention stays out the window, towards the dark perimeter outside the safehouse. By now these hills would haunt your dreams.

You remain posted by one of the front windows, your pistol clutched in your feeble hand. Since redressing Price's wound (and your own), you've been on watch; despite numerous failed (and delirious) attempts by your Captain to take watch himself. He was as adamant to see you in better health as you were to him.

As far as you're concerned, you're the one who's in the best shape here, broken arm or not. Beyond the exhaustion, you still had all of yourself with you. That alone made you obligated to be the one that gets you both out of this mess.

However, this is the clearest the man's ever felt, and something else had been on Price's mind. A thought which crossed him, after some realization came, somewhere between silences.

Price asks you faintly "...Will you talk to me?"

You look at your Captain now, perturbed. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothin' beyond the obvious, love," Price shakes his head, before bringing a weak hand up to clear his hoarse throat. "Just tryin' not to livin' the night up by passin' out and fallin' into a coma," he admits.

Fair enough.

"OK..." You turn back to the perimeter, running a million possible icebreakers that you could say right now. It's hard to settle for just one. "Where are we going out to eat after this?"

Price chuckles to himself. "Somewhere with good steak and Guinness would suit me," he jokes.

"Can it be somewhere fancy?" you ask. "I'd love to dress up."

"Mm," Price hums.

You've dressed up a few times before whenever the team went out and there was time. He's always liked how you always kept up appearances, and that it wasn't for any other reason than the fact that you just enjoyed doing so. Evidently, Price has had passing memories of a few choice outfits you've worn, many he wished to see again.

"You've any outfits in mind?" He asks you, wanting you to paint a picture for him. Give him something nice to think about.

You think to yourself for a moment, your ponderous hum filling the silence. "A dress," you state, thinking out loud and conjuring it as you speak, as Price hums with affirmation to each suggestion. "I'm thinking something skin tight... low cut with strings and spaghetti straps. Oh! And with one of those little leg slit things too! And heels."

"That's quite a detailed description," Price teases.

You've had a lot of time to think about it, though you'd never admit that. "Does it sound nice though?"

Had you two been having this conversation elsewhere, Price's mind would have undoubtedly gone somewhere vulgar, only picturing how that dress might look bunched up at your ankles or pushed up in a messy bundle around your waist. He's sure that was your intent when describing it as well.

However, with his mind repeatedly giving way to the black throughout this conversation now, his body gone from numb to feeling light as a feather, all he could picture of you in that dress was the smile you'd have for him instead, with a cluster full of joy shining in your eyes. How happy you would be just to be beside him, just as you are now. In these brief moments where your mind has been taken away from reality.

Does it sound nice, you ask him. You could narrate his dying breath, and the man would have thought it a beautiful thing, having been your words he last could hear before the world finally takes him.

"It sounds lovely," he says.

You swallow, your brave front cracking ever so slightly at his honesty. For some reason, it felt as though gravity just came back to you. You hadn't noticed its absence until now.

"Which is exactly why we're gonna get out of here," you reassure yourself. "So I can model it for you in person, yeah?"

"Exactly why..."

It had been nice talking about something else. Seeing you smiling again had warmed the grown man's heart as greatly as any time before. Price had been itching to see it one more time.

No doubt, he hadn't forgotten about his promise to take you out to dinner once you've both returned. Thinking about it now, at the brink of death without you even knowing... it's a sweet thought, nonetheless.

"I've no idea why you even bother with me..." he says suddenly, his mind fading so much he can hardly hear the words which leave him when they do. However, it had been a growing thought all night.

He's never understood your fondness for him. Price knew he could be hot shit, and he's earned respect from countless of his peers and subordinates alike, but it wasn't because he had been special, he always thought. He saw himself as no different than anyone else on his team choosing to do the same mission.

And surely he was a sorry excuse of a man for putting you through such a thing as this, tonight.

However, the scoff you let out after he says this would suggest you beg to differ.

"Are you kidding?" You say, keeping your gaze out the window, though even from there, Price could see the sudden pride fire up in your eyes. "You're like the greatest guy I know, Captain."

Price chuckles. "...I appreciate that"

"I mean it too," you continue. "We wouldn't be 141 without you. You're smart, you're resourceful, you're kind, but you get shit done too. Not to mention you're a total hunk. You're literally the entire package."

Yeah, you thought, Price is the whole package. There wasn't a man around that you trusted more than your Captain, nor was there anyone you ever wanted respect and companionship from more than his.

You still remember the first time you ever met Price. Laswell practically had to fight the man just to let you onto the team, having doubted your capabilities at the time. And in turn, you were doubtful of him as well.

You'd heard the stories of him back even during your SAS days, talking to the man in short, and tuning him out whenever he grew too overbearing during training. You wanted to say you weren't impressed with him, but even then you could see he wasn't just all talk. So the respect had been begrudgingly earned, to start with.

It wasn't until after a few high-tense missions with him that you finally started to get along. You both may bicker and avoid one another on base, but on the field you two worked together like fire and lightning, perfectly complimenting each other.

Price always was fair and reasonable, giving no doubt to his abilities as a leader. His confidence always felt reassuring in the most stressful of operations. While he could be a hard-ass, he was equally proud and gave praise whenever credit was due. Eventually, you started to crave it.

Price always liked how you listened to him, trusting his judgment and taking his advice. He's seen you grow and learn, watching you bleed for your comrades and step into the fire ready, just as he does, and that alone had been respectable to him. You had been so happy to have it too.

The hostility simmered into being cordial, before becoming neutral, and then casual. Your talks warmed, as did your times together. After a while, Price had been as synonymous to you as home ever could be. With all you two have been through, and all the times he's helped you since knowing him, you owe it to him to be his support this time.

"Whenever I'm around you I..." You speak again, but pause shortly, trying to think of the right words to say. "I feel safe," you say. "Like everything's going to be OK, and that soon it'll all be over. Because you're here. I mean, when you pulled me out from that rubble and I saw that you were OK, I just..."

It had felt wrong to ever even have had any doubts then. Because of course Price had been fine, it was Price. That's just who he was.

"I don't think I've ever met a man I've felt so safe around before in my entire life," you say. "Even now-"

You look over, only to be greeted by your Captain lying slouched against the wall, his eyes closed and completely still. Irresponsive. Your smile drops, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

"Captain?"

No response.

You immediately rush to his side and check for a pulse on his neck, your heart shattering when you couldn't find it.

"Price?" Your voice is practically at a whisper now, unable to use your vocal cords to full use, from fear of your voice breaking apart altogether. You place your hand on the side of his face, his skin so cold it makes you shiver, feeling your lip start to quiver and your vision blur with hot tears.

Even now, a small part of you was simply waiting to see him open his eyes again. Expecting him to shrug this off like he does with everything else so easily.

The whole time you sat kneeled in front of your Captain, you kept questioning how you could have let this happen, scolding yourself for this catastrophe. So many emotions flooded within you at one moment, you almost felt unable to process. You wanted to throw up, it was so much. It instead halts you there like a statue, your face frozen blank.

Your grievances are interrupted upon hearing a vehicle approaching outside. Suddenly, you really take in the fact that you're by yourself now. Your heart races, your hands starting to shake and your breathing growing quick. You were on your own.

You press your back against the wall, keeping your pistol close to you. You watch the headlights from outside pool through the window, illuminating the living room and remaining there.

The comms were beside Price; Nikolai would surely notify you if it was him outside. AQ couldn't have found you so soon, could they have?

With a broken arm and your own intuition left, you close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall, repeating to yourself at a whisper, "Please be Nik. Please be Nik. Please be Nik..."

Your comms buzz. "Price, Price, come in," Nikolai radios in. "Help has arrived!"

You let out a broken exhale. For the first time all night, you actually felt some real relief. Though, it was quickly drowned out once you looked back over towards your Captain, still lying there. Only a few minutes shy of being able to know you both would have been rescued tonight.

You reach around Price to grab the comms and radio back in to Nikolai. "Give me a minute, Nik."

You set the comms down, kneeling back in front of your Captain, tears burning in your eyes, your chest on fire.

Seeing him like this had felt so surreal. So unfitting. So unfair.

"Oh John…" You bring your hand down to Price's, holding tightly as his large fingers sat limp in your grasp. Cold and bloodied. You couldn't bring yourself to part from him now. "…I'm so sorry."

Price's hand suddenly twitches in your palm, making you gasp rather meekly. You watch him slowly pry his heavy eyelids open, and he reciprocates the hold you have over his hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Letting you know he was alive.

"… I'm right here," Price breathes out. "I'm here…"

Your gasp is broken with both relief and joy, a smile growing on your face and tears streaming down your cheeks. He was alive after all. Of course he was. This is your Captain. This is who John is; forever the class act.

A ping of frustration then hits you, bringing you to shove your Captain suddenly.

"Easy now," he says sarcastically.

"Don’t ever do that again!" you yell at him. "You scared me half to death, you asshole!"

Price raises an eyebrow at your outburst. He then sighs to himself, looking ahead of himself. Content.

"Ah, well…" He retakes your hand again, holding it in his lap for a spell, letting his thumb caress your skin, as he thinks slowly to himself. His breath is as broken as his hand feels in yours, with so much on his mind still left to say. He wouldn't miss these chances no longer. "I love you too."

You open your mouth to speak but then pause. Did he just say that to you? He loves you. Your heart jumped for joy. You didn't lose him after all.

You no longer cared if you looked weak, or unprofessional, or even too emotional, the tears come out and everything you'd been keeping bottled releases into broken sobs, and it feels so good to let them out. You lean into your Captain, burying your head into his chest to cry, which springs a pained "oof" from him in return.

"I'm sorry, Captain," you sit up and wipe the tears from your eyes. "I'm sorry... I really thought I lost you."

"I'm not goin' nowhere," he says. "We've still got that dinner later."

A big, giddy smile paints your face, and then, with a lifetime of moments worth of waiting and build-up to help guide you, you lean forward and let your lips come to Price's. Just in case. You didn't want to take any more chances.

You kiss Price softly, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the sting of his beard against your face. He could have been covered in mud for all you cared. You pull your lips away quickly, not having wanted to take up too much time. However, Price chases your lips as you part, finding your mouth again and kissing you back just as longingly. He finally lets himself celebrate the end of this night and the start of tomorrow.

( ´•̥̥̥o•̥̥̥`)♡(˘̩̩̩̩̩̩ ⌂ ˘̩̩̩̩̩̩) part three

#call of duty #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain price #mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #Spotify

[hot-take-tournament]

Here's a fandom take, as promised!

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT!

PRELIMINARY #228

Submission 770

Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell were a bad endgame.

(only recent FMA experience is Brotherhood) I'm an avid fan of childhood best friends. to me, Winry, Al and Ed were and still are an inseparable trio. the Rockbells are Ed's last remaining family aside from Al and to me I don't see why you would put romance in there, especially due to the fact that in Brotherhood at least, they call each other siblings a lot. I think childhood best friends to lovers can be written extremely well some time but in this instance, it felt rushed and poorly executed and forced. I didn't see any slow buildup to show that they're falling for each other; there was one scene where Winry went "am I, am I falling for him?", and then Edward going "HAHA WHAT NO SHE'S JUST A CHILDHOOD FRIEND, NO THERE'S NOTHING THERE HAHA" when Riza asks if she's his girlfriend, and then Winry muttering to herself "I can't believe I fell for this idiot". To me, that was it. and then they're supposedly in full love with each other? that scene where Winry was in her bedroom and Ed caught her changing clothes as their first introduction after the 6-7 months timeskip and Ed was like "I. I just wanted a quiet place to eat my sandwich of course" while flustered made me so uncomfortable. And then in the final episode they became a thing or something? and then there was family photos with their kids? what happened? In my opinion it felt so poorly put together and rushed and forced like "of course they're together! she's the main girl and he's the main guy!". and not to mention how Winry's character changed after it. I feel like she became much less of a strong independent girl and more someone that needs to follow Ed around everywhere, and especially when they took her hostage in the Briggs arc, because she was his cute girl friend and she just became a damsel in distress who was there to serve as bait so Ed could do Kimblee's bidding. Over time the more her crush developed I feel like she became more of a typical powerless female protagonist who's life revolved around Ed and it's so sad.

Propaganda is always encouraged!

And remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure!

#hot take tournament #tournament poll #tumblr poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #unpopular opinion #hot take #fma #fma brotherhood #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #edward elric #winry rockbell

[sphireath-wisp]

#My Kind of Lover

Sypnosis: I have no idea what this is about, I'm just rambling (Inspired by "My kind of woman")

Warnings: Not proofread (again), might not be in character for Kaiser because I didn't read the manga,

Featuring: Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Micheal Kaiser x GN! reader

Itoshi Sae

If there was something else other than soccer that could ever reach his heart, it would be any sort of breathtaking scenery.

The smell of salt, the hues of the setting sun, and ocean waves overlapping. He would find himself staring at the sea for longer than he actually wanted to. The stretch of white a white sandy beach with the soft occasional cries of seagulls, washing down that lump in his throat with some excessively fruity drink his assistant left on the table, maybe he didn't mind forgetting soccer for just a small moment during these times.

If anything, these calm - supposedly serene moments made him feel at ease again.

But recently, Sae has found himself more captivated by you. It didn't matter what you were doing, he could and would stare at you for hours. Waking up next to you and seeing your face the first thing in the morning, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Oh, you don't like this? He'll remember that. You seem really fond of this flower? He'll buy extra to see that smile again.

If I'm being honest, you didn't really understand why he liked looking at you so much. At first, you would be worried if you had something on your face or if he was judging you - Sae doesn't have the nicest look in the world, okay?

Nevertheless, you got used to it, giggling when you could feel his eyes gazing at you. You would often stare back and see him blink, turning away immediately, insisting that he was not staring.

In public though, his... foul mouth would get the better of him if it wasn't you who caught him staring.

Itoshi Rin

"Stepping stones" was something Itoshi Rin would often call every match he went through, every rival, and every person that had some sort of irritating or impressive skill on the field. His teammates were the closest things he could call a friend, but if he considered them a friend was an entirely separate matter.

Of course, there would always be an exception - you. Though, you weren't really safe from his sharp tongue despite how much he softened up when it came to you.

You would once in a while get called "idiot" by Rin when you happened to hurt yourself accidentally or when you tried to do something stupid. Rin didn't really mean anything bad despite the insulting name-calling and you could tell.

It was his own personal way of telling you he was worried or concerned about you, his weird and confusing method of telling you he cared. Through the blunt and overly serious exterior he has, you melt all of that away and reached somewhere in his heart that made him crave you even more.

He hated being vulnerable around others, so you understood him down to the last detail. Sometimes, he's worried you took his words to heart, so he promises himself to melt in your arms once both of you are in private. You'll have his attention, just wait.

If he visibly notices you flinch or frown at his statement, guilt will eat him up from the inside. Despite not enjoying any display of affection, he'll quickly kiss you or holds your hand under the table in hopes of cheering you up.

Micheal Kaiser

This mischievous little shit is watching your response to everything as if it's an experiment. You were so... interesting - like a mix of chemicals that he was so curious to see the reaction of.

He was like an annoyingly enjoyable bee to be around, but you had grown to love his constant buzzing around you. He'll randomly spurt and ramble about how much he loved you just to see that blush adorning your cheeks.

Teasing was always a must to him when it came to you, that shit-eating grin on his face after he happened to snatch that last slice of pizza from you or win against you in a game made you fall deeper in love again.

Pranks? Games? Surprises? He was all in for it.

And wow - this guy loves to boast about you. It doesn't matter who it is, his teammates, his rivals, online, who cares? That mouth of his couldn't be glued shut because he just loved to go on and on about you.

I JUST KNOW this guy loves to show you off in public too. When the both of you first announced your relationship, you could predict from that notorious smile of his that he would do this right at the stadium, where his charisma shines the brightest.

You're like a trophy, his most precious one. The whole world would have their eyes on the both of you, basking you in their attention, but painfully aware that such a gem like you belong to him and only him.

#~𝕾𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘~ #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi rin #rin x y/n #rin x reader #rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi brothers #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #micheal kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser