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loriache · 2 months

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Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

#og post #marcille donato #falin x marcille #farcille #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi meta #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dunmeshi

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sunkissed-zegras · 1 month

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒; 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "oh my gosh, paige bueckers x uconn wbb athletic trainer intern with a situation at a game where paige gets a bloody nose (like the uconn vs seton hall) and paige like refusing to get cleaned up and reader like commands.. (i feel so silly typing this) but basically forces paige to let reader clean her up and the internet GOES CRAZY BC OF THE WAY UR HOLDING PAIGES FACE AND THE CLEAR TENSION BETWEEN YOU TWO (reader and paige can be like friends with clear sexual tension or secret relationship whatever u like girl pop 😛)"

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | friends with tension type shit!!!!! mention of aggressive playing, paige being slightly mean (due to her being frustrated), descriptions of blood noses, kissing and making up,

─ ev's notes | i saw that video and IMMEDIATELY saved it to camera roll, i am so down bad

THE GAME WAS going pretty well up until the second half, everyone was playing aggressive and obviously, that was when people got hurt.

Usually, Paige tried her best to stay out of trouble. But tonight was different, these players were too cocky for their own good and Paige knew she had to humble them really quick.

As the second half kicked off, Paige felt a surge of determination. She dribbled past defenders with profencity, her moves as smooth as silk. As Paige drove towards the basket, weaving through defenders, one player decided to play dirty. With a swift elbow to the face, Paige staggered backward, feeling a sharp pain erupt in her nose.

Blood gushed from her nostrils, staining her jersey crimson. For a moment, the gym fell silent as everyone watched in shock. But Paige refused to let the pain stop her. She wiped away the blood, her determination burning brighter than ever.

Paige's frustration bubbled over, but she knew arguing with the referee wouldn't change the call. With a heavy sigh, she begrudgingly made her way to the bench, her jaw clenched with pent-up anger.

Paige stormed to the bench, her nostrils still dripping with blood. She clenched her fists, struggling to rein in her anger as you, the team medic, made your way toward her. She caught your worried gaze as she got up from the bench, pacing as she kept arguing with, you really weren't sure at this point.

Her teammates exchanged worried glances, knowing that Paige's fiery temper could sometimes get the best of her. But they also understood her frustration. They had felt the sting of unfair calls and dirty plays themselves.

"I'll put you back in when I know you're hot hurt and angry," Geno urged, his tone firm. "We can't afford to lose you to a technical foul or worse."

"I'm fine," she mumbled as she sent her coach a glare. You tried to dap the blood on her face with a towel but she moved her head away, her stubbornness getting the best of her. "I'm fine, for God's sake," her voice came out annoyed as she gripped your arm, pushing you away.

You felt a rush of frustration and something else — something you couldn't quite name — as Paige pushed you away, her grip on your arm firm but fleeting. It wasn't the first time her stubbornness had grated on your nerves, but there was something different about the way she looked at you, the way she touched you.

"Hey, look at me." You spoke sternly, only to be ignored. "Hey, I'm the damn medic and I'm telling you to sit the hell down so I can get you back out there, do you get that? Or you can't hear me now?"

When she ignored you for the second time, your patience with her finally snapped. You grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bench, gripping her face as you began cleaning up the blood on her face.

Paige's annoyance was evident as she glared up at you, but didn't say another word. She knew how you got when she didn't listen to you and she didn't wanna feel your wrath right about now. However, she just couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Would you just lay off already?" she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration as she jerked her face away from your touch. "I don't need you bossing me around like some child."

"You're acting a fucking child, you need to relax and trust your teammates." You snapped back, Paige's eyebrows furrowing in anger as she let you continue clean her up.

As you wiped away the blood, your movements were firm yet gentle, your touch a silent reassurance that despite your clash, you were still there for her. And though Paige remained stubbornly silent, her gaze softened ever so slightly as she watched you work.

"Paige, I just want what's best for you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I know you're strong, but even the strongest of us need help sometimes."

Paige's gaze softened, her anger dissipating quickly. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her thoughts ─ she knew that you were her soft spot, a place of comfort and understanding in a world that often felt overwhelming.

As she opened her eyes, she found herself gazing into yours, a warmth spreading through her chest at the sight of your familiar face. With a sigh, Paige leaned into your touch, a silent admission of acceptance.

"I know, I'm sorry for snapping at you," Paige murmured, her voice soft.

You nodded in understanding, your gaze never leaving hers. "I get it," you replied, your voice gentle as you continued to brush her hair back from her face.

You finished up cleaning her nose and she sighed, her shoulders relaxing as the last of the tension seemed to drain from her body. As you finished cleaning her nose, Paige let out a deep sigh, the weight of her earlier outburst lifting from her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude as she met your gaze. "I appreciate it."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. "Of course, Paige," you replied, your voice gentle as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just glad you're okay."

But before she could respond, she heard her coach call out for her. She gave you a quick smile as she jogged up to Geno, her steps lighter now that the tension had been lifted. You watched her go with a sense of relief, glad to see her back.

As Paige jogged up to Geno, you couldn't help but admire the way she carried herself with confidence.

──

"Hey," Paige's voice rang out in the empty medical room as you glanced back at her with a smile, your head turning back to the task at hand as you heard Paige's footsteps toward you.

"Hi," you replied, your fingertips stretching as you attempted to reach the tissue box perched on the top shelf. Paige let out a soft laugh as she reached over your shoulder, effortlessly grabbing the tissues and passing them to you.

You blushed under her gaze, your fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment as you took the box. "Thank you, P."

The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down your spine, a sensation you couldn't quite shake as you turned back to the task at hand. Paige smiled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned against the counter beside you.

"No problem," she replied, her voice soft but filled with amusement. "So about the game..."

"Don't worry about it, it was in the heat of the moment." You answered quickly as you glanced back the blonde. You could see the guilt in her expression as her gaze lingered on yours, a flicker of regret dancing in her eyes. But before you could say anything else, Paige spoke up, her voice tinged with sincerity.

"I'm really sorry for snapping at you earlier," she said, her tone earnest as she met your gaze. "I know I can be a handful sometimes, especially when I'm worked up."

You smiled, a wave of understanding washing over you at her words. "It's okay, really," you replied gently, your voice soft but reassuring. "And I know how to handle you when you get like that, and I know you didn't mean it."

Paige's lips turned upward as she heard you talk, her shoulders relaxing visibly as a sense of relief washed over her. "Thanks for putting up with me, even when I'm being a bitch."

You let a small laugh as you shook your head, looking back at the blonde with a sense adoration. You felt your stomach do a flip as you met Paige's gaze, a warmth spreading through your chest at her words.

"Hey, you're not an ass," you replied, your voice filled with genuine affection. "You're just passionate, and I admire that about you."

"Oh come on, you don't have to get all professional on me now." Paige joked as she gazed at you.

You shook your head, sincerity in your voice as you spoke. "No, I'm being honest. Seriously, that's one of the million other things I admire about you," you spoke softly as Paige's amused expression dissipated into a soft one.

You felt the atmosphere shift slight as Paige gazed back at you, you thought your heart was going to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

Paige leaned closer before she spoke, her voice much softer than before. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the room. "That means a lot to me, coming from you."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Paige leaned even closer, the air between you crackling with an electric intensity that left you both breathless. With a soft smile, she reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch lingering as you savored the closeness to Paige.

Paige's hand cupped your cheek as she leaned in slowly, her lips barely touching yours in an almost-kiss. She then pushed your lips into hers, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you as your lips met in a sweet, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away around you, leaving only the warmth of Paige's touch and the gentle press of her lips against yours.

With a soft sigh, you melted into the kiss, your hands finding their way to Paige's hair as you pulled her closer, your heart pounding in your chest with a wild abandon. As the kiss deepened, you found yourself lost in the sensation, the taste of Paige's lips against yours intoxicating and exhilarating all at once.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the kiss, the softness of Paige's lips against your own filling you with a sense of warmth and longing that you had never known before.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy with emotion, you found yourself gazing into Paige's eyes, the depth of her gaze reflecting the same feelings swirling within your own.

"Wow," Paige whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

You smiled, a rush of joy and relief flooding through you at Paige's words. "Me too," you admitted softly. With a soft smile, you reached out to take Paige's hand in yours, the warmth of her touch sending a surge of warmth through you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn #uconn wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #uconn women’s basketball

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opbackgrounds · 4 days

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This scene with Sanji is one of his most important moments in the series, and in my opinion also one of the most difficult passages in the manga to interpret, because to completely understand it you have to look at the manga holistically rather than this scene by itself.

The big question that needs answered is why does Oda let Zoro "win" here by having him be the sacrifice instead of Sanji. Both are equally willing and both are identified much later on as the Wings of the Pirate King, implying that they have similar importance (although vastly different roles) within the Straw Hat crew.

If we go back to Sanji's introduction on the Baratie, his big flaw was that he lacked the "spear of spirit" to pursue his dream. Since he's been a boy he's wanted to find the All Blue, but even when he had the opportunity to go after that dream he chose to stay on the Baratie out of a feeling of obligation to Zeff. Sanji put the continued existence of the restaurant over his own life, something Luffy rightfully called him out for at the time, and even at the end of the arc had to be pushed away by Zeff and the other chefs before he finally set sail for good.

On Drum, Sanji once again almost died protecting Nami and Luffy during the avalanche, resulting in a broken back that required surgury from Dr. Kureha. Luffy again calls him out (note the English translation here isn't entirely accurate, see here for a breakdown), and with his power there's a good chance Luffy could have gotten them all out of trouble without all the dramatics by Sanji.

Something similar happens on Skypiea, when Sanji puts himself in the way of Enel so that Usopp and Nami can be saved. This case is perhaps more justifiable given the extreme situation they were in, but nonetheless he was still quick to throw his life away.

Then on Enies Lobby Nami--while not criticizing his chivalry--calls out Sanji for simply not running away from Kalifa, instead just accepting that he's going to get the shit beat out of him, and possibly die.

So there's a pattern of self-destructive behavior. Sanji repeatedly puts his life on the line when he doesn't need to in order to preserve the lives and dreams of the people he loves. Even him constantly simping over Nami and Robin falls a little into this category, because if either of them told him to take a long walk off a short pier I have no doubt he'd comply. It's that same extreme willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for that we see in Baby 5, except Sanji was fortunate enough to not be surrounded by people that encourage these worst impulses of self-destructive behavior. As he says here in Thriller Bark, he's just the cook. Luffy can always just find someone else.

(The glory of Whole Cake Island being Sanji realizing, no, Luffy can't, and he won't).

And it is finally on WCI that get to the heart of why Sanji is like this with yet another episode of putting his own dreams and happiness aside for the sake of others, and not until Wano that we finally see him take the first steps toward asking others for help instead of passionately throwing his life away when he doesn’t need to.

When Zoro first offered his head to Kuma, the prominence of his dream was first and foremost. Notice that Sanji never mentions the All Blue. One Piece is a series that places the pursuit of one's own ambition above all else, even if that ambition is selfish. Sanji hasn't yet learned to be selfish, so Zoro knocks him out and ends up being the one to accept Luffy's pain. Sacrifice isn't sacrifice if the person doesn't value what they're giving up, and right now Sanji clearly doesn't value his own life compared to the rest of the crew.

Next chapter Oda will speak through Brook to confirm that Sanji's willingness to give himself up wasn't foolish or stupid. It's just that he's missing a piece of the puzzle, and that's not something he'll have for a long time yet.

#opbackgrounds #one piece #ch485 #themes threads and throughlines #sanji #characterization #character development #character analysis #god tumblr's search function sucks finding all those links was a nightmare

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envy-of-the-apple · 3 months

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LOVE the new fic. The betrayal literally made me tear up.

I was just curious would Gojo have given up on Ms. Moon if she were married or maybe had a kid.

oh fu c k such a good idea whydidn'tithinkofthis- (this got so long i am so sorry)

in the fic, ms.moon is pretty traumatized after the gojo incident to have any real relationships after.

But maybe ms.moon gets into therapy, works through the issues of intimacy. You meet someone, nice, kind. You settle down, have a kid. It'll be nice for a few years...but when gojo comes back into your life. he'll shut it down quick.

Gojo's worse than his high school self now. He might not beat your husband up, but that might be a blessing compared to the tsunami he's about to havoc on your family. Using his connections, he'll make sure your husband never finds a job in the entire city, the entire region even. He might even dig up something your husband did in his past, a small drug problem he had with highschool-something that would get swept under the rug normally, but with Gojo's scrutiny, it's about to become a lot bigger.

You could stop it. With enough begging. After you'd cry your heart out, he'd shush you, wiping away your tears, saying that he'd forgive you for your transgressions.

You'd be expected to divorce your husband. Your husband would be pretty pissed with your flimsy reasoning of 'my childhood bully isn't done with ruining my life' but then he'd remember that there is a reason the Gojo family is so big. And they don't take kindly to competitors who stand in their way. You'd understand why he lets you walk away without a fight, but a part of you wished he would have pushed more, even if the result would have remained the same.

It's your child who suffers the worst through all of this. Maybe you had a daughter. Perhaps gojo would be a bit more tolerant towards her if she looked like you but she was clearly her father's daughter. In the past, you adored it, now it's another curse for you.

You have to keep her away, for her sake. Gojo is already more than upset that you dared to start a family without him. Besides, why would you want her with you? Why would you want her to suffer under gojo's whims?

A part of you has to admit that it's also for your sake. You don't want your daughter to see you like that. Weak, rolling under that man's thumb.

She's probably just a toddler when you have to leave. She's too young to understand when you say 'mommy's going away for a while'. Maybe you'd lie to her, say that you're going overseas and when she asks if she can come with you, you'd shake your head because talking anymore would be too much because Satoru's waiting in the sleek black car right on the curb. It doesn't matter what you say, she screams and sobs the entire time.

You don't touch your ex-husband, you don't even hug because you know Satoru's watching. You just ask him to take care of her before you walk into the car, getting into the passenger seat. Your daughter's still begging you to come back. You make sure the car is out of her sight before you start sobbing.

There's a hand on your thigh, squeezing, a mocking act of comfort. You're sure Satoru's grinning.

"Aw. Don’t cry, baby," you can barely hold yourself back from slapping him, though you doubted even pain would wipe that look off his face.

The hand drifts up your thigh, playing with the hem of your pants.

"Once we have our own kids, you’ll get way too busy to think about your old one.”

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #yandere gojo satoru #SEM

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pinkyqil · 1 month

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I'm sorry

Lucy bronze x ona batlle x r

Summary: childhood bestfriend to lovers to strangers

Warning: just toxic bestfriend, jealousy issues to many spelling mistakes for me too care for at this point in life

You and Lucy had always been together 24/7 has you both grew-up together like the childhood friends you're. Never letting go of one another. Always following each other, most people would think that you both were together.

"You've always felt attracted to lucy. Because of the way she treats you, always taking care of you getting the stuff she knows you'll need and most of all dealing with your massive sassy princess attitude.

Back in 2020 where she played for Manchester city around the covid out-break. You both decided to moving in together, always needing each other's company. After a while of living with lucy she finally confessed her feelings which you felt the same way.

Making you both finally official has most of your friends have been anticipating the moment.

You and lucy relationship had been going amazing. a little fights here and there but nothing to serious that would go way too far. Until she announced that she'll be leaving to play for Barcelona meaning you'll both have to do long distance until she comes for break or international duties.

Which you were okay with until now you've both been arguing way more recently all you ever wanted was for her to make more time on her busy schedule but she couldn't has they've been having game after game. Making you upset which would start random yelling match from the phone's.

"Another yelling match". said ona

lucy and ona had gotten really close for the past months. that she been playing for barca has she was found by her in the locker room crying from one of your arguments. Since then they've both gotten really close

"Yeah it just getting way worse and I don't think I know what to do".lucy said

"lucia I think we both know what you need to do" replied ona.

"but ona you know I can't I love her too much to do that she's been through everything with me all I want is to is too fix the holes in our relationship but nothing seems to work".

"I know but you can't keep pushing it like that do what best for both of you". ona told her while holding her hands.

That night you got a call from lucy which you weren't expecting.

cause it would have been really late for lucy which meant she was definitely up thinking about something but what she told you honestly couldn't comprehend.

She was breaking up with you over the phone from 1,137.96 kilometers away from each other that night you cried your heart out from the heavy feelings to now feeling empty.

You lost the love of your life the person that made you smile gave you whatever you needed that assisted you without asking you lost her.

And now feeling broken pices that no one could ever pick up again you hated this banging pain.

It been months since you're break up with lucy some people could've seen it from a distance but other's likewise.

it came shocking to both families who were sure that you both would have worked it out and get married in the future.

But they were wrong cause now she was with ona.

Ona is a pure soul nothing compare to you. you've tried hating her but couldn't the girl was way to nice for her own sake everyone around her loved her which you couldn't get that much what was so special about her but not you.

The last time you saw Lucy was around her vist back to england but instead of as lover you both we're now mere strangers who were once deeply inlove.

A/n : this has honestly sleeping in my drafts for the longest of time and I just got it done there's probably a lot of mistakes cause it wasn't proof read yet but other than that hope y'all enjoy this and don't forget that my request are open

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niki-phoria · 2 months

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Hello! It's one of my first times asking for something, so forgive me if it seems strange or if I spell something wrong! Feel free to ignore this too!

I was looking at your Jjk list and realized that our beautiful boy Yuuji doesn't have a story there yet, so I had an idea!

something like Itadori and Reader (gn or male) were in a fight together, and Sukuna ends up appering to deal with the whole situation, and as a result, he ends up hurting the reader on purpose to bother Yuuji, so he is left feeling very bad and guilty , so ends up “ignoring” reader, because he keep blaming himself

I only thought until this part (srry), I would like an ending with something cute and fluff ig? 👉👈 (i like angst with a happy ending)

WEREN'T WE THE STARS IN HEAVEN?

pairing: itadori yuuji x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: angst word count: 758

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, poorly written fight scene

notes: thank you so much !! i hope you like it :)) split this into two parts to make it easier to write lol, possibly ooc sukuna but i did my best, title from adrianne lenker - anything

part 02 here !!

shibuya is empty. desolate, even. eerily so. even after spending only a few months in tokyo, ITADORI YUUJI had grown accustomed to the noise. the bustling crowds and noisy tourists had become commonplace - almost a comfort at the end of a long night. if nothing else, at least the people were safe.

until they weren’t.

your lungs burn as you race through the remains of shibuya station. the walls are splattered with a mixture of blood and curse remains. there are no longer complaints from people about being trapped inside of the station. there are no longer stray groans from mahito’s transformed humans. there are no longer screams of terror.

you feel sick.

you force yourself to run faster when you see a figure standing in the distance, near what remains of the bathrooms. water seeps across the tiles from nearby, probably damaged in the midst of a fight. “yuuji!”

he doesn’t have a visible reaction. your footsteps slow to a stop as you take in the sight of him. his clothes are ripped and tattered but there are no visible injuries on his body. beneath the flickering lights above, you can just barely make out the blood stains littering his clothing.

“yuuji?”

he turns to face you, smirking over his shoulder. you take a step backwards, shoes slipping on a puddle of water on the floor. there’s a dark glint in his eyes - one that you’ve never seen before. “not anymore.”

“sukuna,” your breath hitches.

he frowns, mockingly pouting as he begins walking towards you. “that’s not how you should address your lord.”

anger flares in your chest. your hands curl into fists, nails digging into your palms. you grit your teeth, aiming towards sukuna’s jaw as you swing.

he evades it easily, languidly pushing his hands into his pockets. “i’m hurt, y/n,” he mocks. “i can’t believe you would hit your own boyfriend.”

“shut up!” another swing. another miss.

sukuna laughs. he watches you with amusement; like you’re an ant beneath his foot he’s pushing around just for the sake of his own entertainment.

he’s fast. almost faster than your own reflexes. your punches only ever meet air as he dances around you. “does it bother you?” sukuna asks. his breath ghosts against your ear as he leans in. “knowing that yuuji’s power comes from a curse. does it scare you?”

you swallow your insults, instead focusing your attention on aiming your punches at the right time. he frowns. “ignoring me now? that won’t do.”

sukuna raises his leg, swiftly landing a hit against your side. you’re barely given time to react before your body slams into the wall.

the pain comes hard and fast. it’s agonizing. it feels like you’re on fire. every part of your body begs you to give up; to lay down and crumble into a ball on the ground. but you can’t. you won’t.

blood pools in your mouth, dripping down the corners of your lips. debris surrounds you. you can feel pieces of rock and concrete digging into your hands as you push yourself up onto your hands and knees.

your attempts are quickly ripped away when sukuna kicks your side once again. you land on your back this time, staring up at the ceiling through blurry vision. your head aches.

“pathetic human.” sukuna smirks over you. the heel of his boot digs into your chest, pushing your body down further into the rubble. your eyes flutter shut. if you’re going to die, you’re not going to give sukuna ryomen the satisfaction of being the last thing you see.

the force of sukuna’s weight forces a weak cough out of your lungs. he raises his foot once again before he pauses, humming to himself. “i wonder what the brat would think of this.”

time seems to still as your consciousness begins to slip. you can feel yourself growing weaker. your breaths are shallower. it’s harder to get air into your lungs. your racing heartbeat has also slowed. it no longer pounds loudly in your ears. instead, a dull ringing has replaced the noise.

nothing feels real. yuuji is yelling your name. he’s on his knees; his face hovers over you.

yuuji looks different. the black marks across his skin have disappeared, leaving only pale skin behind. hands that have the power to snap bones and destroy buildings are gentle as they cup your cheeks. he wipes away blood and dust and tears.

“yuuji,” you whisper. at least, you try to. and then-

the world goes black.

shibuya is empty.

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 11 months

Text

Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night.

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired.

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life.

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter.

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.”

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand.

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly.

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby.

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen.

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own.

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours.

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees.

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.”

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.”

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you.

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley fluff

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bamsara · 2 years

Note

"Don't bleed on my carpet" I can see YN maybe getting a booboo and Sun and or Moon freaking out

Moon-Centric | Wordcount: 1,648 | AO3 Version

Contains some spoilers for ARC 3 (Post-Fire) of Solar Lunacy, so please consider this a crumb! Notes: Contains blood mention, obv, and character exibihiting some subtle signs of PTSD.

Nosebleeds sucked. Unpredicatable most of the time, and inconvienent. You don't even feel it happening until droplets of blood splatter on your phone screen as your looking down. So you sigh, stand up from the table and attempt to hold your nose back as you fumble your way to the bathroom.

The Daycare Attendant isn't here at the moment, downstairs helping Gramps with something, so it's a bit of a fummble to the bathroom without blood dripping everywhere by yourself.

The flow was heavy. You inwardly cringe as you hear a few droplets hit the floor, and holding your head back, you hold out a hand to feel against the wall to guide you, and scold yourself when you realize you just probably smeared blood on the wall as well.

You make it to the bathroom, don't even bother turning on the main lights, flicking on only the nightlight that you keep in the outlet under the mirror. Your friend doesn't like it when some rooms are dark, and others are brightly lit. Could cause rapid changes, or a possible Eclipse. You find the toliet paper and bunch it up easy enough with what illumination you have.

Winter was such a pain sometimes. You were prone to nosebleeds when the air was so dry like this. You should look into getting a humidifier or something.

A few scrunched up balls of toliet paper shoved up your nose later, the blood isn't showing any sign of stopping, and a pile of bloody tissue is collecting into a pile by the sink. You sigh, head light. That's gonna be annoying to clean up, as well as the rest of the stains. You also made the mistake of wiping your phone onto your shirt without thinking about it before. THAT was going to be one nasty stain to get rid of, if you can even salvage it.

On the sixth tissue ball, you hear the front door open. You'd call out if it wasn't for the sneeze you felt rising, and for the sake of now spewing blood and snot all over your bathroom mirror, you put your effort into holding it back.

The door shuts, clicks and locks. A few padded footsteps for some paces, then stop. There's a quiet pause as the sneeze subsides, and then the sudden sound of hurried movement through the house, walking quickly over your own path-

The door to the bathroom that was cracked open is swung completly outwards, an ridged animatronic grips the doorhandle with a tightens that almost cracks it.

Moon's smile is strained, eyes as wide as the times nightmares only bring forth, and shrunken pupils scan before they find you.

A heartbeat passes (and you probably look stupid, tissued-up and stuffy nosed) as the robot blinks, the tension in his form lessens, and gaze softens.

You talk stuffy and dry. "What? What's wrong?"

Pupils, no longer small, fall down to where blood drips off your chin and onto the bathroom mat. "Don't bleed on my carpet."

"YOUR carpet?" You scoff, and it comes out a bit choked. The last thing you wanted was blood traveling down your sinuses and down your throat. "Excuse you! My house! My Carpet!"

"Laundry mess." He talks low again, and it sounds like teasing. Whatever strain that was in his fave prior has melted away, and the robot leaves the door open as he steps forwards. A hand comes to you without permission, fingers gripping your jaw and positioning your head towards him for a better look.

Moon doesn't tut at you, but his expression spells the idea. "You're doing it wrong."

You've half a mind to sneeze on HIM just to get your space back, and to be annoying on purpose, but the hand on your jaw slides against your skin to the back of your neck, and you feel fingers wrap around there, a few running up into your hair. Your head is promptly pushed to face downwards, another tissue is brought to your nose as you feel the blood rush.

"Look down. Not up." Moon speaks. Whatever argument you have is muffled by tissue and trying to breathe now that you've been flipped a bit. He presses the tissue to your nostirils, blood soaking through to his fingertips. "Drain it. Breathe through your mouth."

"Yeah, okay, Doc." You talk, a bit breathy because yeah maybe he had a point there. It's a gross feeling, and it feels awkward, but the blood flow starts to lessen after a minute, and it's nice not having to keep trying from swallowing anything in the sinuses. "Did you have fun with Gramps?"

Moon makes a small sound of aknowledgment. He does not move his hands from your face or the back of your head.

You talk to fill the silence. "Whattya guys do, anyway?" Raising your hands, you try to replace his own. "I can do this part myself, by the way."

He does not let you, that is, until the tissue needs replacing and has no choice but to pull away the old one. "Magic tricks."

"Magic tricks?"

"He wanted to learn." A quick hand replaces the space of your own with a new tissue. You give up, letting your arms fall to your side. Moon is attentive when it comes to your face, and low-lidded as he wipes the blood stain on your upper lip. "Be still."

You stick out your tongue. He pushes it back in with his thumb. "I said, be still."

"Whatever." It's a bit demeaning, this act. It also feels nice to be cared for in such a gentle manner. Maybe it's his programming, but you know it's just what they like to do. Still, he's slow in movements, and you glance back to the mess you've made on the sink. "Does the blood not bother you anymore?"

Maybe not the best thing to say, and you realize that instantly after it leaves your mouth. Moon's movements pause, if only for a moment. "No."

"I can clean up the blood."

"It's okay."

"And the mess in the living room."

"It's fine."

"I can do this part too, you know, if you're still-"

A tighter grip around your face, Moon's smile thins into annoyance. "Stop. Moving."

Fine, sure. You raise your hands up into the air as a mockery of surrender as he runs a rag underneath the sink water and dabs it in places where blood traveled and you did not see. Your faces is scrubbed clean (ratherly harshly, and probably thanks to your commentary) along with your neck and collarbone. He doesn't bother with the stains on your shirt or shirt collar and you take that as inward confirmation that this shirt was done for.

So you stand in the process, eyes closed and thinking about what to make for dinner as the animatronic does his work. Finally after a good five minutes of silence, he lets you go. Opening your eyes, Moon steps back, looking you over once more. The blooded rag is tossed into the garbage bin instead of the laundry basket, and he turns from you to gather the tissue paper on the sink and dump those in the trash as well. "Shirt."

"Yeah, yeah I know, I know." You're pulling the shirt off before he even finished the sentence, running a thick part, unstained part under the water before exiting the bathroom. Might as well use it to clean up the rest if you can't salvage the clothing.

Luckily for you, the stains on the floor and wall come off with some hard scrubbing and some cleaner you keep under the kitchen sink. You've tossed the ruined shirt into the trash as Moon exits the bathroom, presummably finished cleaning in there, and make eye contact in the hallway.

He looks normal, almost default as red eyes and white pupils look over your rather disheviled, shirtless form. But your gaze glances down to his hands, twitchy, stuffed inside of the sweatpants you scored for them at a thrift store, and you know better.

You sniff with a clear sinus this time. "I'm all better now."

Moon's faceplate turns to an sharp angle.

"How do you feel?" You test the waters. The dark of the hallway feels warm, the glow of his unwavering gaze feels warmer. "Moon-?"

"Fine." He cuts you off. The animatronic walks up to you, a hand raised, it comes to your face, his own unchanging. A warm palm presses against your cheek, to your neck, against your pulse.

Double checking. It's all it is. Double checking.

"Fine." He repeats, and his palm drops. "Go sit."

You wish you could read his expression. Sometimes you can't. The animatronic turns his back and you do the same to the living room, finding your phone on the coffee table where you've left it. You're screen is still-mid spot where the mobile game left you, so you save your place.

A moment later, a shirt is thrown over your head, and crinckly package tossed in your lap. Lifting up the frabic, some basic crackers are in front of you. The weight on the sofa shifts as Moon plops down as you're pulling on the shirt, his own form criss-crossing.

It is better not to push. Not unless you wanted to trigger an unwanted, stressful change. "Wanna see this game I'm playing? You take care of digital little cats."

His head tilts again, this time more of curisoity than something else. You crawl into the lap waiting for you, pulling up the game and positioning the screen so he could watch. No words are said, but comfortability is had, and the two of you settle. Silence is broken only by the sound of the buttons clicking and game music playing.

Moon chuckles, though, when you capture a cat and that's half-black and white and name is after him.

#Solar Lunacy #writings #tw blood #fnaf sb #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #moondrop #moon x reader #moondrop x reader #ARC 3

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enchantressiren · 5 months

Text

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐒𝐡𝐡, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.❞

What sexual fantasy does your lover imagine of you?

YouTube | Masterlist | Tips | Paid Readings

Normal intuitive readings: @sefinaa

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

Divider

Pile 1:

I see them wanting to tie you up—not the normal BDSM handcuffs or ropes; I’m speaking of them using their tie if they wear suits, a scarf, or something that’s silky and soft enough to tie tight around your wrists without causing any marks or pains. I’m getting they have this fantasy or idea to devour you whole, so with your dick, they imagine their mouth fully onto your cock, small or not, and simply using it to warm it up, like cockwarming. And with those who have vaginas, I see them inserting their whole tongue into it as they grab and squeeze your ass to balance themselves, and I’m also seeing some facesitting. Now, speaking of tying your hands, they have this idea of not allowing you to grab onto the sheets, the couch, the handle, whatever, so all you can do is whine and whimper in ecstasy as they pleasure the living hell out of you for their sake and, I suppose, your pleasure. I’m seeing a little bit of sadomasochism. I’m hearing they want to leave hickeys on your thighs and suck on them so they can show it off to themselves, not to others. The people who show off hickeys on their partner's necks—that's what I'm feeling, but with your thighs, and they only care about what they think, and I see they respect your privacy. Yes, so I hear that some of you are uncomfortable with PDA or something with sexual acts and showing it to others, so I feel like in a way, that’s how they can show it off but also respect your wishes.

Another thing with the tying is that they would also use it to pound into your anal fast regardless of gender. They use the end part to pull it towards the downward part of their hips and use your shoulder to push you forward so that way they can hit your sweet spot. For those who aren’t into that or don’t want to be pegged, I can see them using it around your wrists and neck, a little neck or choking play—nothing to hurt you but just in a way to cause a thrill. I also feel like some of you are scared and not interested in this, so I can see them tying you up with your ankles as they play with your pretty vagina or dick with a vibrator to tease you as you cry for release. But of course, in this fantasy, they won’t show you mercy, and they have this idea of going through many rounds so they can give you oral later.

Pile 2:

I can feel them envisioning you and them kissing passionately, the lust fueling their minds as they lay on the bed. I can see them imagining you wrapping your hands around their necks and deepening the kiss as they pick you up and put your butt onto the kitchen counter as they press their groin into yours. I hear both of you making sounds; they're groaning as you're moaning. I see you start playing or pulling their hair sensually, and I can feel your heart beating fast as they caress your thighs and start to move their hands up to your chest and fondle your chest (regardless of gender) as they go for your neck, then cupping your cheeks. I can see them imagining pulling back and kissing you one last time before they slide down your underwear and go for oral.

Another fantasy I see of them is that they’re slapping your pussy or dick. I can sense that this is simply a moment when they’re very, very horny. For those with vaginas, they will be slapping it like it’s a game, and they imagine recording it for their own use when they miss you. Now for those who have dicks, I see them doing the same, recording you, but I also see them using a vibrator as they do this. Extra spice is what I hear.

The last fantasy I feel for them is anal play. It seems they are making you go on all four as they lube up a vibrator and insert it very gently as they wait for you to become adjusted. They won't let it set in you for a bit; no, they’re thrusting it in you as you are told not to grip the sheets, and I can feel they want you to sob for the need to do it. I am feeling a bit of sadistic energy from this fantasy.. just from them not letting you hold the sheets, chuckling as you beg for release and to cum, and well.. slapping your ass and thighs if you do not follow or listen to them. (Remember, this is just a fantasy because I feel like some of you are getting scared or uncomfortable). Anyway, I see this going on for awhile; maybe 2 hours tops, and when the 2 hour mark passes (estimation because I hear long rounds and hours), they will let you cum, but you won’t even be able to, and so they leave you to be. They will give you a bath as you have tears stained, and when the bath water reaches the right temperature and you become relaxed, they will come to your crotch area and finger you (vagina) or rub you (dick) until you're crying and screaming their name as you squirt and cum like crazy.

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ronkeyroo · 5 months

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A positive Update

Friends, kind folk - Hello Again 🤍

Ever since my last update post, I've been thinking about it , a lot ;; I knew I needed time to cook and reflect, and im so glad I gave myself that...

2024 started rough for me; I fell severely ill again - I was too busy cursing my life and dwelling over how betrayed I felt by things still not getting better despite my efforts that I didn't realize I was walking into a self fulfilling prophecy. Its true that the struggles I'm going through are yet to be solved, that its gotten so much to the point giving up seemed easier, and that a couple individuals haven't been making it easier on me either; I swayed and i rattled and I steered within feelings ranging from confusion to anger to dismay and all of this back and forth did nothing but remind me of yet another self-destructive loop I just don't want to allow in my life anymore. Its exactly the kinda stuff that made me ill to begin with, and I've been so lost dealing with everything in between that i forgot to tend to the actual core centering all of this...

It grew unbearable how much emotional and physical turmoil I was pushing myself into, and knowing how intertwined these two elements have been; I had to draw a line before i majorly screwed myself over, gathering any bit of inner will to discipline myself back into some sort of clarity, enough to at least look through a lens OUTSIDE my pain for once, towards the kind of life I want to lead, and the kind of life I don't; and I came to an understanding.

From my physical state to my mental, to the people and memories I've experienced, both the good and the bad - I want to prioritize the good.

Not in a shitty ass, toxic optimism kinda way but in a "I want to prioritize knowing and living the possibility that even when it hurts, even when i want to be gone, even when life doesn't align - There's still every good reason in the world to keep moving forward, to face things from a perspective of growth & compassion, and to grow to love the promise of a better tomorrow even when today was unbearable." To know that I don't end or begin in my suffering, that the infinite potential I speak so fondly of applies to me, as well...

I want to be able to wield and create and share that goodness, too, Especially when it is already in decline...And for all gods sake, to internalize that all of this STILL exists and STILL matters even when it doesn't work the first couple or dozens of times.

As for my place here in Tumblr...I know the sentiment might feel silly to some but the experiences, memories, and connections I've made here have truly been such a significant force in my life, and i don't want to give up on that ;; Not because of my own insecurities, or an inner state of hopelessness, and especially not over a bunch of emotionally immature Anons that dont know how to handle themselves; I want to forgive all of that.

I'm stubborn, and there's an unyielding force within me that no matter how many times it is struck down, it proved itself ridiculously resilient. I'm perking up with with a fiery confidence realizing just how many times it rose back up, enough to realize it is an unchangeable part of me ;_; I shouldn't underestimate that force, and I want to keep living by its side. Whatever positive change I can sprinkle onto my life and the lives of those I care for, I will! And the reason why this space in particular is so important to me, is because so much of that already exists here, alongside you folks;

THAT'S the kind of energy i want to nourish and walk into the new year with! I want to continue growing as a person, challenging my inner turmoils, undoing the self punishing dogmas that still haunt me, stop flexing my teeth over things that don't deserve my time and god DAMN, just - indulge in the stuff that makes me happy, even when I'm going through unhappy times.

So yeah...I guess that means, I'm back & I'm staying ;_;)🧡

I know i may seem like a broken record when it comes to expressing gratitude but - Thank you, thank you thank you everyone who have reached out for me, who so fondly kept me in their thoughts and kept encouraging me whenever i was hurting, both then and now...You folks mean more than whatever ailment or struggle I can go through, and while I'm unsure of how the future will look like as I'm still going through various challenges- I couldn't have asked for a cooler, sweeter audience to have by my side whenever Its time to take a rest or hype over our sexy delicious blorbos!

Speaking of which....................I have been cooking quite a lot of things in the time i was away 👀✨ I most definitely intend to serve them, eheheh

#Ronkey Posts #Waving a tired yet happy hello #Back from the dead and ready to SLAY or just to relax and chill and remember that goodness is a force undying ;_;#i missed you folks so much...

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lethalchiralium · 2 years

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Almost Out Of Time | Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

a/n: how i wrote this so quickly we’ll never know. if it sucks, it sucks.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

summary: you couldn’t believe it, your eyes, your heart, your brain - not everything was as it seemed. plus, ghost has a few… choice words for you.

WARNINGS: Violence, talk about bodily harm, surgery, bullets, guns, cussing (let me know if i missed anything!)

Next Parts! Obvious | I Heard A Rumour

“Holy fuck.”

Whispers won’t save you now.

You watched the building explode into an inferno through your sniper rifle scope, your left hand immediately on your radio.

“Anyone from 141, copy! This is Riot.” Your voice was almost shaky, almost panicked - you just had eyes on Soap and Ghost before Hassan’s assholes exploded the building into flames. “Copy!” You could only watch in horror from your position as figures crawled out of the flames, silently screaming as you felt tears prick your eyes.

“-Price.”

“Captain?” Your voice almost began to shake as you watched through your scope - enemy soldiers were vacating the building. So, you began to pick them off. “Captain, what’s your status?”

“We’re pinned down - Shit-“ Another explosion. “Call for backup!” One, two, three more bodies drop by your rifle before your body went on auto-pilot, calling Graves in for an immediate evac. Pulling your bolt back, reloading another bullet as you continued to pick off men on fire, trying to put themselves out because they weren’t Price, Gaz, Soap, or Ghost.

“Evac is five minutes out, Riot - get in there and get them out!” Graves’ voice entered your ear, you pulled back your bolt again, watching as the enemies now slowed down at the threat of your bullet.

“The place is engulfed in flames - the enemy is all around the building, I’m picking them off so they can escape.”

“That’s an order, soldier.”

Pull back the bolt.

Wake up.

“What did you say?” You stifled an alarmed noise from your throat as you stood now, holding your rifle at your side. “Graves-“

“Evacuate the Task Force, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

Your voice didn’t feel like your own, when you looked down at your hand, it felt disconnected from the rest of your body.

Wake up, Y/N.

Your hand went to your head, your eyes closing as you whispered, “What?”

Wake up.

When your eyes opened again, your body erupted in intense pain, a gut-wrenching scream leaving your lips. Your hands immediately tried to lift away from your sides but was met by handcuffs, trying to fight off the assailant from continuing to hurt you-

“Riot. Ri.”

“Fuck off!” You answered, teeth immediately gritting and eyes closing again. “Fuck! Don’t you have any morphine?!”

“It’s either keep the bullet in or take it out, Riot.” Price.

“What-What happened?” You exhaled, still feeling some sort of metal dig into your stomach, almost screaming again. A hand gently pressed onto your forehead, pushing your head back onto whatever surface you were laying on. If you had free will of your hands, their neck would be wrung like a towel.

There was a cough a couple feet away, you took a deep breath again, trying to not scream again as you assumed that Price was the one pulling out a supposed bullet from your abdomen. “They released some sort of gas in the room, you were the closest to it and you sort of went berserk. Price n’ I were already out and Ghost had to get ya.”

You squeezed your hands tightly, trying to breathe but it was getting harder. “Ghost.”

“‘Ere.” How close his voice was almost scared you, you opened one eye to see that familiar mask hovering above you, it was his hand on your forehead.

“Morphine’s in my pack.” You whispered through your teeth. He looked up and away.

“Soap - get Riot’s med-pack,” Ghost barked, he looked towards Price. “Can’t you hurry up?”

“I’m sorry that my medic is on my table.” Price snapped back, another jolt of pain and another scream left your mouth.

“For fuck’s sake-“ You couldn’t look at Ghost anymore before closing your eye again. “Soap!”

“I’m comin’, dammit! Give me a second!”

You began to feel numb now, head rolling to the side and eyes into the back of your skull. The throbbing in your abdomen disappeared completely and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat and the distant words of Ghost.

“Riot, Riot!”

•••

When you woke again, you recognized the ceiling. It was a beautiful ghostly blue, which meant you were in Vienna - the Vienna safe house. How long were you out?

“Y/N.”

If you had the energy to jump out of your skin, you would’ve. Your eyes darted to your right, noticing as Ghost walked towards you. Your head felt like cement, every part of your body being held tightly by chains. Your throat was itching.

“Water.” Ghost reached behind him and detached his canteen from his pack, unscrewing the cap as he finally placed himself in the seat beside you. He reached forwards, one hand pulling down your chin and the other not-so delicately pouring water into your mouth. If you weren’t so damn thirsty, you would’ve coughed it up but you drank every drop.

Ghost pulled the canteen away, moving his touch from your chin and you only stared at him. He screwed the canteen shut, eyes not meeting yours just yet. “Simon.” Your voice was just a croak but his head still moved up towards you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking right now, because of the drugs in your system and the balaclava on his face. You would be able to if he looked you in the eye and in the next twenty seconds you magically became sober, but you’re not - you’re stuck in a shitty bed in a shitty safe house with injuries that you couldn’t name just yet. “What…what happened?”

“Russians. Threw in some kind of mind-control gas and it only really effected you - you almost killed me. And when you missed me, you almost-“ Ghost cleared his throat, still looking down at your bed as he sat back in his chair. “They stabbed you, shot you in the abdomen before I could take ‘em out. I-I’m sorry.”

Then the fire must have been a dream.

“And about what I said the other day-“

“Simon.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just- hurt you.” That was the moment you two locked eyes again. If you didn’t know all that you did about Ghost, you would’ve thought he gave you just a blank stare. But there was guilt, a hell of a lot of it. “No. No, I shouldn’t have told you that I regretted what I said to you our first night.”

You stared at him now, still feeling the heaviness of the drugs but also the intense feeling of confusion. “Si…”

“You mean everything to me.” He whispered, didn’t even dare to breathe as he continued, “I know you don’t want a relationship with me, I can live with that. I know you don’t want others to know, I’ll live with that too. I can’t live if you aren’t mine.” One of his hands reached forwards, pressed gently against your cold cheek. “Tell me I can be here for you, tell me that I can stay because I want to. I was a fuckin’ asshole for saying that I wouldn’t stay with you - I just- I just didn’t know how deeply I loved you. Still, love you. Because I saw you so helpless, I couldn’t do anything and I realized just how important you are. To my friends, to my team, and to me. So, please…”

If you had any control of your body, you would’ve held his hand. Would have leapt into his arms but your brain took hold again, ever the cautious Riot.

“You’ll never leave?”

Ghost nodded.

“Good.”

He smiled, you knew it by how his eyes closed a little.

“Guess you’re haunted now.”

———

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley cod #ghost cod #cod mw22 #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 8 months

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Gentle Hands

Back on Kamino after successfully rescuing Echo and retaking Anaxes, you know just how to soothe Wrecker’s lingering back pain.

Pairing: Wrecker x f!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: established relationship, pet names, little bit of angst and comfort, flashback to how Wrecker got his scars, minor mentions of blood, fluff, soft love, light sprinkle of the hots for this giant mans size/strength, slight suggestiveness.

A/N: saw a headcannon that Wrecker doesn’t have a cybernetic eye and is instead partially/fully blind in that eye, and now I can’t get that out of my head.

Translations: ner kar'ta – my heart

“Urgh.” Wrecker’s grunt echoes through the barracks as he flops face-first onto his bunk. You’d just arrived back on Kamino from Anaxes, another successful mission accomplished and a new squad member onboard.

Tech had disappeared off with Echo in search of better armour and weapons for the ARC Trooper. Crosshair had slunk off in the direction of the shooting range – not that he needed the practice - while Hunter had remained on the Marauder, needing the peace of the empty ship to finish his mission reports.

That had left you and Wrecker alone, and your man had wanted nothing more than to nap.

“At least take your armour off first.” You gently nudge Wrecker’s shoulder, earning a grumble of protest. He pushes himself up, big hands prying his armour off his body, depositing it with various clangs beside his bunk. You loved him, but Maker above, he could be messy.

Back on the bed, face pressed into the mattress, Wrecker winced, feeling a tweak in his lower back. “Babe…” He called for you, turning his head to watch you take your armour off, stacking it neatly on the large table in the middle of the room.

His gaze roved across your body, admiring the soft curves of your frame as you turned back to him, hands on your hips and an eyebrow arched. He couldn’t help but feel lucky to have you. You’d started as their civilian handler, feeding them missions and making sure they came back safely – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – but somewhere along the way, you’d stolen his heart, with your soft smile and easy nature. You laughed at his jokes, stayed up to watch holofilms with him, cooed over Lula the first time you saw her, and were always happy to hand over a detonator or two when he had the urge to blow something up. At times, you tempered the big kid in him, while other times, you let go of the reins and let him run wild.

“Yes, ner kar’ta?” You ask, taking a few steps over to his bunk. For the sake of appearances, you had your own bunk, though it was never used. The rest of the squad knew of your relationship, but it was a well-guarded secret, not wanting to risk the Kaminoans finding out.

As you draw closer, Wrecker drags an arm out from underneath him to gently snag your hand, tugging you in. He’d always been hyper-aware of his size and strength, but he was especially cautious with you. Hurting you was something he never wanted to do, even if it was an accident.

“Think I’ve tweaked my back,” Wrecker admits, offering you a sheepish smile.

You can’t help but smile in return, the corners of your lips curving as your loveable giant gives your hand a soft squeeze. For a moment, you admire him, still in awe that he’s yours. But as usual, a flicker of guilt passes through you as your traitorous eyes slink to the web of scars across half his face, his damaged ear, and the milkiness of his right eye. It was your fault he was partially blind.

You’d only been with the boys a handful of months when you’d missed a tripwire as you’d been pushing forward through a cave, setting off a nearby explosive. You’d been out in the open while the others could duck for cover. Wrecker had decided to protect you, turning you and pressing you to his chest, shielding you from the blast, taking the brunt of it himself. The memory of the dust settling, the blood as you pulled back from his chest and looked up, the panic and fear that had consumed you as you’d taken in the damage he’d sustained right before he passed out... all because you’d forgotten for one moment to look where you were stepping.

He’d been medevaced to a nearby Venator. You’d gone with him, his brothers insisting on it while they finished the mission, knowing it would upset Wrecker if they lost their 100% success rate. Washing his blood off your hands in a small fresher as you waited for news from the medics almost broke you. You’d been so close to handing in your resignation and retreating back to your quiet home planet.

But then he’d woken after surgery, after his brothers had successfully completed the mission and returned, and you’d all been briefed on his condition. His first questions to the medics had been about you – were you safe or hurt? Tears had rolled down your cheeks as the medics had relayed this to you all, Tech subtly pressing a tissue into your hand, and you’d known then in your heart that you could never leave.

“You’re doin’ that thing again,” Wrecker says, having watched a faraway look cross your face. He knew you still struggled with the guilt of his accident. “You’re thinkin’ too much.” He tacks on, gently bringing you down to sit sideways on the edge of his bunk, big arm sliding around your middle. “I don’t blame ya. It was my choice, and I’d do it all again.” He reiterates, pressing a kiss to your body. He said it every time he saw you slipping back into the memory, and he’d keep repeating it until you believed it.

Pulled back to the present, you offer him a soft smile, one of your hands moving to rub across his broad shoulders. “Sorry, ner kar’ta.” You murmur, focussing instead on the quiet noise of delight falling from his lips as your hands stroke his tense muscles. “Those tri-droids are probably the cause of your back pain.” You comment, watching his eyes flutter shut at your touch, the peacefulness of his expression chasing away the lingering guilt.

“They were stronger than they looked, but I wasn’t gonna let ’em crush the locals.” He comments, feeling himself melt into the mattress the more you rub at his shoulders.

You loved seeing him work, the effortless way he shoved assault tanks around or pried blast doors open, lifting up gunships like they weighed nothing, and how his thick fingers somehow nimbly managed to disarm explosives. “It was hot.” You admit, feeling warmth in your cheeks.

A rumble of laughter leaves him, the deep noise setting off butterflies in your belly, but he winces again as it jostles his back.

“Here.” You shift, gently easing the top of his blacks up. He helps you remove the garment, settling back on the bed as your hands return to his body. Broad shoulders taper down to his narrow waist, scars crisscrossing his warm, tanned skin. Evidence of a lifetime of war.

You get up momentarily, moving silently to your bunk to snag your unscented lotion – constantly aware of Hunter’s senses – and return to Wrecker a moment later. He shifts over, and you sit at his side, squeezing some of the lotion onto your hands. Rubbing them together, you warm them up before you press your hands against his back, dragging them across his body in firm, even strokes.

Wrecker’s moans of appreciation fill the barracks, and you stifle a giggle. Your hands keep working across his body, feeling solid muscles give with every pass, the knots loosening. Pressing your thumbs into his lower back, he grunts, hips rutting against the mattress. “Not until your back is better.” You tease, giving his butt a playful swat.

He grumbles in protest but knows you’re right – he’s too tired for anything anyway. The ache in his back is easing exponentially under your soothing touch, and he smacks his lips together as sleep beckons him, shifting on the mattress into an even comfier position.

The first drag of your nails across his warm skin makes him shiver, the corners of his mouth curving upwards as you start lightly scratching, fingers drawing patterns across the vast expanse of skin. The patterns shift to words, Aurebesh spelling out how much you love him, how handsome he is, how strong he is.

“I love you. You’re so good to me.” He mumbles, feeling the weight of your adoration, his eyes heavy with sleep, his mind struggling to focus on the words you’re scrawling across his body.

A warm smile passes over your lips, and you dip down to kiss his cheek softly. “I love you too.” You whisper back, fingers still moving lightly over his back as you hear his breathing turn deep and heavy, face going slack as he falls asleep.

You scoot to lay beside him, drawing his arm over your body. A nap wouldn’t hurt you, either.

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker the bad batch #wrecker x reader #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #wrecker #star wars #fluff #established relationship

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piratefalls · 4 months

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it's been a week and it's only tuesday. my brain is so tired i almost uploaded a snapshot of my dog's vet records. here's the greatest hits of everything i've read in the last week. (mind the tags on a few!)

masterlist

might blow up in your pretty face by crybabie

“I see you liked my gift,” Alex’s voice was light, but lower than Henry had ever heard it. His belly swooped at the sound. And then the words caught up with him. “Gift?” He felt the color drain from his face and frantically reopened Snapchat to confirm his worst fucking nightmare: his most recent outgoing messages had been sent to Alex, and all of them had been opened already. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you,” Alex told him, still teasing, but he sounded muffled through the ringing in Henry’s ears. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting you to even acknowledge them, let alone send pictures. They look good on you.” - or, the next box was indeed full of thongs :)

When I Met You (I Could Not Speak) by @sparklepocalypse

Following the latest string of disastrous first dates with beautiful women to whom he’s decidedly unattracted, and with yet another circular argument with Philip about duty still ringing in his ears, Henry’s summarily fled to the countryside. Here at least, he reasons, there’s no pressure to woo the locals. (A modern fairy tale AU.)

A thousand dreams that would awake me by @kiwiana-writes

“It’s not about punishment.” Alex just nods; Henry had been very clear on the form that he wasn’t looking to be dominated or put in his place, so that won’t be new information. “And it’s not the pain as such.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the mug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to feel it, but I’m not looking for pain for the sake of pain. It’s more about… control, I think.” There’s a long silence. “Taking it?” Alex prompts finally. “Or giving it up?” “Does it sound ridiculous if I say both?” Or, Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

Foreign Bodies by clottedcreamfudge

“We both know it's not a doctor you need,” Henry says, sharp and beautiful, hands hovering just in front of him like he wants to touch Alex, but knows exactly how it would be received; like he knows Alex would burst into fucking flames at the first brush of his fingertips. Three hours ago, Alex had been quite happy to live without being burned. Now, he thinks he'd pay for the privilege.

Well It Ain't Missionary by everwitch

Alex Claremont-Diaz, a ballet dancer, is asked to list his ‘favorite positions.’ His hilariously suggestive answer goes viral, as does the unexpectedly flustered reaction to it by the Internet’s very own FoxySexEd. So obviously, Alex has to slide into Henry’s DMs. How could he resist? When a man that attractive wants your dick, only a fool would pass. Henry is surprising. He wants to be pushed around, thrown for a loop, and he wants Alex to do it for him. But whenever Alex tries to soften his landing, Henry clams up like he’s been burned. Alex can work around that, obviously. He's a dancer. If you're gonna toe the line just right, pointe shoes are a must. Or: Alex and Henry fuck. Not in missionary.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27

Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much. He should investigate.

i told myself don't get attached (but in my mind i play it back) by coffeecatsme

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” the woman behind the counter says, eyes wide and apologetic. Alex grits his teeth so he doesn’t say something inappropriate in a lobby full of scared families, crying kids, and the obscenely tall British guy that’s currently giving him a fucking migraine. “Due to the snowstorm warning, all the flights are cancelled, and unfortunately the room you’ve booked is currently occupied.” “Occupied,�� Alex repeats dumbly, nails digging into his palm. “I booked this room three months ago.” “Yes, well, the previous occupant—” “Should’ve been out of here by now.” Alex knows he sounds harsh, he knows the stupid blond is hovering somewhere behind him listening to the whole conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s not spending what’s supposed to be his vacation alone with another guy in his room. Or, Alex and Henry are stuck in the same room in a hotel during a sudden blizzard

how do you want me? by rizcriz

“Christ,” Henry curses quietly, lowering the camera. “You’re beautiful.” Kneeling on the bed, his ankles crossed behind him, a hand tucked into his briefs, the other carefully weaved through his hair, is Bea’s friend Alex. The light sits on his skin, a delicate shadow of eyelashes fan over his cheeks, and when Henry speaks, he opens his eyes and looks at him from beneath those eyelashes, a careful smirk slipping over his lips. He doesn’t move from the pose, though, as he says, “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.” - Or Henry’s in over his head.

The Next Draft by graceofgrayskull

“This is so unfair,” Alex says, still eyeing Henry. “What?” June asks. “That Henry Fox is talented, successful, and also mind-numbingly good-looking?” says Nora. Alex nods. “Exactly. Like my perfect nemesis. He’s coming for my brand.” -- Alex has read Henry Fox's debut approximately three times in the past three months. The novel, featuring a wary protagonist coming to terms with his sexuality, is garnering Fox critical acclaim. And maybe Alex is a little jealous — his own novel generated a surprising amount of success last year after going viral online, but it just wasn't cut out for the type of buzz Fox was receiving. So Alex jumps at the chance to meet Henry at a book signing, despite knowing very little about the man himself. What starts as a bad first impression quickly leads to fast friendship, many Instagram DMs, and a whole lot of mutual pining.

Shoot Your Shot by RoseHarperMaxwell

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “First celebrity crush?” As usual, Alex’s mouth is moving before his mind can catch up. “Oh,” he gestures, like this is both obvious and the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Prince Henry.”

No Laughing Matter by inexplicablymine

Ellen is leaning over him, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfectly coiffed updo. He had never managed to understand why exactly she was always dressed so impeccably in her scrubs as a dentist. But she seemed almost presidential, even with the eyeglasses that had magnifying glasses sticking out of them making her look a little like some kind of bug. She only needs a quick look before she is snapping her gloves against her wrists pulling away. “Wisdom teeth come in and then they come out,” she says, and then as an afterthought tack on, “just like you.” Or, who said a meet cute couldn't happen while getting your Wisdom Teeth out?

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by @myheartalivewrites

Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

i'll bet it all on me and you, i'll bet it all you're bulletproof by anincompletelist

“Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.” This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common sense skills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate. They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

in an emergency by metacrisis

Alex gets in his own head about a meme Henry liked and decides to take matters, quite literally, into his own hands. OR, Alex gets a sex toy and other nonsense.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by happinessofthepursuit

“Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond. Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift… “Which one?” Alex asks. “I think that’ll immediately be clear.” Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

More Amour by surveycorpsjean

Alex discovers something in Henry's closet that changes everything.

Confidential Memorandum by sherryvalli

"Hello, Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's office. How may I help you?" "Hello, can I speak to Mr. Fox-Mount-krishen, please?" Alex blinked. After two weeks of hearing nothing but the voices of snooty men and frazzled secretaries calling in, the person on the other line now sounded decidedly neither snooty nor male nor in any way adult. It was a little girl. "Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's unfortunately in a meeting right now,” Alex began slowly, “but I could take a message?" "Oh." The girl paused. "You're not Mr. Hunter." Alex starts a new job as Henry's new assistant. Henry's daughter keeps calling the office and leaving him messages.

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

don't want you like a best friend by @priincebutt

The thing about marrying your best friend who you also happen to have a very secret crush on, is that you don’t take into account how much it will hurt. When they’re around his family and Alex holds his hand so easily, like it’s second nature, it makes Henry’s heart skip a beat, but when they return back to his apartment the distance is deafening. Alex purposefully sits at the opposite end of the couch, and Alex sleeps in the guest bedroom, and Alex calls him ‘man’ like two bros who definitely aren’t in love with each other. So he pines, and he’s heartbroken already, because he knows how much this is going to shatter him when it’s over. Because Alex is integrating into his life like it’s nothing, like it’s easy and this could be their new normal, and that kind of thinking is fucking dangerous. Or, Alex and Henry get married, conveniently.

everyone adores you (at least i do) by matherine

Rain is coming down in sheets against the stained glass windows of the brownstone when the door swings open, ushering in the howl of the wind and the man Henry loves more than anything in the world. “Why didn’t you use your colonizer blood money to buy a place closer to the train station?” Alex calls from the doorway. Henry hears the familiar rhythm of the lock tumblers turning and Alex’s copy of the key to the brownstone clinking against Henry’s signet ring and the key to the Austin house on his chest, only vaguely muffled by the rain. “It’s miserable out there.” Or: Alex comes into the brownstone in the midst of a rainstorm, and Henry realizes he never wants him to leave.

know how to cover up a scene by HypnosTheory

“That’s how Alvie kisses Harry,” Alex says, squeezing Henry’s wrist. Henry’s eyes dart down to the slight red mark on Alex’s cheek. He hit Alex the last time they were together. Henry didn’t get to watch the bruise form then with Alex between his legs. “That’s why Harry wanders, but he always comes back.” Henry draws in a shaky breath. “Alvie’s a lucky man.” Alex’s eyes drop to Henry’s neck, where the diamond of his pendant hangs amid the forming marks Alex left behind. “Sure is." __ Henry Fox, needing an extraction, must rely on his part-time rival, full-time problem Alex Claremont-Diaz. To get that extraction, Henry needs to pose as Alex's date for a high-stakes dinner. They get in character - and stay that way behind closed doors.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged, and i'll see you next week!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift

#RWRB rec list #rwrb #RWRB fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #RWRB fanfiction #alexhenry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Changes - Joel Miller Imagine [The Last of Us]

Title: Changes

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 2,158 words

Warning(s): gunfire, murder, awkwardness, abandonment

Summary: [Episode 6] (Y/n) thought that Joel and them were finally making some steps forward in their relationship... in a few ways. If only progress didn't run the constant risk of going backward.

Author's Note: I have a friend that asked if I had written The Last of Us fanfiction... I am adding to the collection for their sake... totally not my own.

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

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Working with Joel was strange.

There were these times when he was completely closed off. Gruff and abrasive. Acted like he had never smiled a day in his life. I would affectionately call him Oscar to Grouch at those times. In my head. The last time I said that one out loud, I'm pretty sure he had to use all of his self-restraint to keep himself from shooting me.

But there were other times when the shell cracked. He would smile at me. He would actually participate in my admittedly stupid banter. He was sweeter. Not a lot, but enough for both of us to relax.

I sometimes thought that I clung to those "other times" a little too tightly.

That was why I stuck around him for so long. Those looks behind the curtain were enough to get my attention. I held onto them as much as possible. It was like holding a burning candle and watching the flame dim until you could find another match.

I tried to believe that I wasn't seeing things that weren't there.

But that would have been too easy.

I had to face the possibility that there was nothing there between us.

That realization came like a slap in the face.

We had gotten a truck and supplies from Bill and Frank's compound. The three of us were hidden away in the woods, far away from the road.

Ellie was asleep.

I was sitting next to Joel. I had always had trouble sleeping, even before the apocalypse. The constant threat to my life didn't help.

"You should rest."

"Don't tell the chronic insomniac to sleep," I replied. "It's like telling a psychopath that they're a psychopath."

I looked over just in time to watch his eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"It's very upsetting," I explained.

"Right," he mumbled. "I will never get how your mind works."

"Keeps me interesting," I shrugged.

I leaned my elbows on my knees as I watched Ellie a bit longer. I took a deep breath.

"It feels weird how protective I feel over her," I said quietly. "It hasn't been all that long, yet I feel like I'd burn the world down to keep her safe."

Joel hummed in response.

"You are so talkative," I mumbled. "It's one of your best qualities."

"I've been saying that for years," he replied sarcastically. I scoffed.

"I think you're obsessed with the gruff, mysterious reputation you have going on."

"I would've changed it if I could," he explained. "Damn thing made it so you're stuck to my side, why would I choose to hold onto it?"

"Oh, hush, I've grown on you."

"Like a tumor."

I chuckled at the sarcastic response. "Asshole."

"Keeping up the reputation."

I rolled my eyes as I turned my head to look at him. He looked at me.

Maybe it was the silence. Or the loneliness of the whole thing. Or some stress spilling over into the current moment. Maybe it was just something about the woods. Something around us made me braver for just a few moments.

And those few moments were all I needed to push myself over and pressed my lips to his.

It was nothing more than a peck before he pulled away from me. Abrupt and sudden. Like a scared animal.

I felt a sliver of pain slide through my heart as I turned my attention away from him, looking straight forward.

"(Y/n)," Joel said.

I didn't respond. I felt dizzy from my own stupidity.

"Me and you... we're two people that happen to do jobs together," he muttered after a while.

I nodded, trying to ignore the embarrassment that wanted to come out as projectile vomit right about now.

"That's it-"

"I got it," I cut him off. "I... I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat. "You should-"

"Get some rest. Yeah."

There it was. That shell.

I should have just grown accustomed to it.

We continued on like nothing had happened. It was all work. Nothing more than that. We just needed to get all of the work done.

I held onto that as we drove off the next morning.

It was easier to focus on Ellie than it was to think about Joel.

She was a smart kid. Smart and resourceful and brave. She was ready to kick ass at the drop of a hat. I admired her. Maybe that was part of why I was so protective of her.

It was especially easy to ignore my embarrassment when the chaos broke out around us in Kansas City.

The truck crashed through some old store. The gunfire followed soon after. We had gotten Ellie some hole in the wall. Safety.

The silence after the gunfire was almost scarier than the sound of the shots. It was the adrenaline. The fear meeting caution. It was like a closed soda bottle getting shaken up.

I heard the door slam open before I saw anything move. A guy tried to pin Joel to the ground.

Shooting him was the easy part.

Getting my hands to stop shaking after was the worst. I let out a loud sigh.

I heard Ellie climbing out of the wall to check on us.

"You alright," I asked her. She nodded. I took another deep breath.

Joel had pulled himself off the ground by then. He was just staring at me with this shocked look on his face.

"What about you," I asked.

"I'm good," he nodded. "Thanks."

"We'd be kinda screwed if I let you die," I replied. "Just doing the right thing."

There was a long pause as the tense air seemed to dissipate. I barely managed to drag my eyes from Joel.

"Head back in there," I told Ellie. "Look for a door for us to get through."

She nodded.

It wasn't until she was gone that I turned to Joel again. "You sure you're okay? You got a... look."

There was no response from him.

"Joel?"

"Ellie, turn around," Joel said, still looking at me. I glanced back at the wall, chuckling a bit at her little face poking out.

"Why," she asked.

"Just do it," he muttered.

I heard the dirt and gravel shift under her feet as she grumbled and spun around on her heels.

I raised an eyebrow at Joel. "What is it?"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I stumbled a bit as he awkwardly kissed me. I grinned against his lips as I balanced myself and kissed him back.

I pulled back first. I smiled before stepping away a bit. I saw a grin pulling at his lips as I did.

"You can turn around, Ellie," I chuckled.

"Did you guys kiss," she asked as she did, popping her head out again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged as I walked over to her. "No idea at all."

"You're full of shit!"

"Am I? Joel, am I?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Ellie looked between Joel and me. She finally scoffed and rolled her eyes.

It felt like something had changed. Shifted.

And I liked it. I really, really liked it.

After the heartbreak in Kansas City, I expected that shell to build itself up again.

Joel wasn't romantic. I knew that much. But I found enough comfort in how his hand touched my back. It was barely there, but it was enough. I offered him a sad grin.

Three months.

Three months after that change initially happened.

We developed some patterns.

We found ourselves in a camp. A commune of survivors that made a life for themselves. A new beginning. It gave me a moment of pause. A small shimmer of hope that I felt silly entertaining.

Ellie and I ended up following Maria around while Joel caught up with his brother. It was nice. Knowing that he found him again.

We were put up in some house to shower and change. It was in amazing condition. Unfair, honestly.

I stuck next to Ellie as much as I could.

We snuck out of the movie they were playing that night. She was reading from some old diary. I was looking at the old photos and posters. It was a museum. A perfectly preserved image of the past.

Joel walked in a while later.

He stood in the middle of the room. Tense. I stepped over to him. I didn't want to cross any lines, but my brain was yelling at me to grab his hand or touch his face or something. Do something to bring him back down to earth.

I stood halfway between him and Ellie.

"Why are you here," Ellie asked from her seat.

"I came here to talk to you."

"No, why are you still here," she corrected. "If you're gonna ditch me, ditch me."

"No one's ditching you," I shook my head, looking at her for a moment before turning my attention toward Joel. The guilt was etched into his face. "Isn't that right, Joel?"

"I heard him," she spoke up. "Talking to his brother while you were focused on the lights and shit. 'I have to leave her. You have to take her.'"

I clenched my jaw. "Goddammit, Joel."

"I stood up for you today because I thought..."

Ellie trailing off broke my heart.

"I made this decision for your own good," Joel spoke up. "You'll be way better off with Tommy."

"You didn't think to talk to me about this," I asked.

He ignored me, "He knows the area better than I do-"

"Do you give a shit about me or not," Ellie slammed the diary down as she snapped at him.

"Of course, I do."

I looked down and let them argue.

I knew where I would be at the end of all of this. The only question was whether or not Joel was going to join me.

"Then, what are you so afraid of?" she stepped closer as she spoke. "I'm not her, y'know?"

I tensed.

"Maria told us about Sarah and-"

"Don't," Joel stopped her. "Don't say another word."

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel," Ellie walked closer to him. "But I've lost people too."

"You have no idea what loss is."

"Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you!"

I barely moved forward as she went to shove Joel backward. He didn't flinch.

"So don't tell me that I'd be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared."

I touched her arm.

"You're right," Joel said. "You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad. Now, come dawn, we're going our separate ways."

"Joel," I muttered, following him out. He slammed the door shut. "Let's talk about this. Because that should have happened long before you made this choice."

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied.

I scoffed.

"Be ready to go in the morning."

"Joel, no."

"Our job's done."

"She's terrified," I said. "We're probably the most stable things that she's had in years. I'm not gonna abandon her. She's a kid-"

"She's not a kid, she's cargo. This was a job and now the job is done. Let's go."

"You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that you actually still think that?"

"What did you expect to change?"

I froze.

The last thing I wanted to do in that moment was cry in front of him. But I couldn't help the burning behind my eyes. After all that had happened... all we had been through... the kisses... I thought that it was safe to assume that things were different now. That something had shifted in his mind.

"Have a safe trip, Joel," I muttered, blinking away any tears that tried to fight their way out.

"(Y/n), come on-"

"Job's done, right," I asked. "And nothing's changed?"

He paused.

"You said it before... we are just two people that sometimes do jobs together. Well, the job's done so you don't have to worry about me being 'stuck to your side all the time' anymore. You can finally get rid of me. Go do whatever the hell you want. I am going to make sure that kid isn't completely abandoned."

"(Y/n)-"

"Have a safe fucking trip, Joel!"

I walked back inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

I looked over at Ellie, who was standing in the middle of the room with tears in her eyes. It broke my heart. Damn near shattered the thing.

I stepped forward and yanked her into a hug. "I'm not going anywhere, got it?"

She hugged me back.

"I am not leaving you," I repeated, finally feeling the tears fall as my voice became shaky. "I'm going to stay right here and keep you safe. For as damn long as I can. Got it?"

She nodded against my shoulder.

"We're gonna figure this out, kid."

I just hoped that time would prove that I wasn't lying to her.

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Author's Note: I know it takes him all of like a minute to turn his ass around, but I needed the dramatic cut off. Let me have this one.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

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ist4rgirlo · 11 months

Text

𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨? : 𝐈𝐈

Summary: Growing up with the Conklins and the Fishers has been a wonderful experience for you; you feel as if you were a part of another family. Your days of stress as a child were over, well at least you thought that was the case not until you had to choose between your two childhood bestfriends, the one who did you wrong and the one who has been waiting his entire life for your decision.

Prev ; Next || Steven Conklin x fem!reader || My blog

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating. (lmk if i missed anything!)

Requested by: Anonymous

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Steven’s Pov

“Steven..” Conrad slurred, his eyes closed — he was leaning against the chair — decided earlier to move his seat down so he can lay down.

I looked at him for a moment before answering “What’s up?” I asked.

“Do you… do you think y/n hates me?” he said — I looked at him, and I saw him looking at the window — his brows furrowed.

I sighed, “Well, did you do something that’ll make her hate you?”

Conrad looked at me, moving his seat up. “Well, yeah. I think you already know what I did” he said, crossing his arms — slumped against the seat.

“There you go then, you answered your own question” I looked at him, nodding — smiling gently.

Conrad is a genuine guy, he's got his ups and downs, but he's a good guy. Sometimes people misunderstand him, but sometimes they're right. I guess you have to know him that well to see what he really is.

I heard him sniff “You know, I.. I never wanted her to hate me…” he paused “I shouldn’t have done that to her, she doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak, Steven. She’s… she’s too precious for that.” Conrad looked at me — his eyes filled with sadness, with guilt — he was disappointed in himself.

“But… still you did, Conrad” I looked back at him “We thought you guys had something special, everyone saw that. You both loved each other so much, everyone saw that in your eyes. I saw how much you loved her, you guys were inseparable” I said looking back at the road.

Conrad sighed “You know.. w-we never made things official?” he chuckled a little bit. In Conrad’s mind — he was questioning himself, asking himself why they didn’t make it official, why he never made it official.

“What? But you guys were all over each other. You would do things couples do, what do you mean you guy’s never made it official?” I looked at him — confused.

Conrad looked at me “We just never did? We never really talked about it” he said throwing his head back on his seat.

“But did you want to make it official?” I asked Conrad — he just at me and then nodded.

“She’s.. she’s worth it, Conrad. She’s literally the best girl we know, we both know that.” She is, she is worth it.

“You know... you should shoot your shot” I felt Conrad push my arm a little — I looked at him, and he smiled at me gently.

My face filled with confusion. “Wh-what are you talking about?” I felt my face heat up, I looked at myself through the rearview mirror, I was blushing.

“Oh come on, man! I know you can treat her better.. than I can.” Conrad smiled gently — pushing my shoulder before looking away, his smile faltering.

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Conrad’s Pov

It is painful to face the truth, and everyone knew it, even me. I tried my best to be a better person for her and I still try to be that person - I wanted her to forgive me, but I need to forgive myself first.

There is no denying that I love her, I truly do. It hurts me see her suffer. I regret cheating on her, I regret not putting a label between us, and I regret not talking to her to make it official, because trust me, I wanted to.

And Belly, she’s a great person friend — she never deserved any of this, she never deserved to be in the middle of this.

For goodness sake, I grew up with them and messed it all up, I messed up badly and I hate myself for it, my mom would hate me if she were still alive.

We finally arrived at where I am staying at. I hopped out of the car and Steven did the same thing. I walked towards the entrance of the hotel — with Steven right behind me.

He patted me on the back “Conrad man, about what you said earli-”

I turned back to him, smiling at him — shaking my head

“Hey, no worries. I know you can, you’re a great person man” I said walking closer — patting Steven’s arm.

“Are you sure?” Steven asked, looking at me. “Yeah, I mean you deserve her more than me, Steve.”

That was the truth, I knew that he does and he probably thinks the same thing.

Initially, my mom believed it was me and Y/N, but I guess I ruined everything, I never intended for things to get to this point - never wanted to hurt her this severely - never wanted to hurt them both, y/n & Belly.

But still, I did — because of how fucked up everything was. Everything just crashed down and I was drowning and I just didn’t know what I was doing anymore

Steven looked at me before asking “So, you’re just going to give up like that?” I looked back at him.

Am I giving up? I’d say no, If I can’t be better for y/n — Steven can be better for her. “No, I just want her to be happy,” I said before walking inside, leaving Steven confused.

I simply can’t hold her anymore and continue to hurt her. I had to let her go. Steven having her would make me more happy and relieved, because I know he will treat her much better. With him, she will be in safe hands.

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