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noctilucentstorm · 1 year

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i agreed with you until you said ghost game was better than all the non adventure anime

savers is really good

Savers is really good and definitely one of the more underrated Digimon series. I should probably go back to it sometime since there were elements I did enjoy, like the premise and the story. I didn't really latch on to any of the characters though and for me that's probably the number one thing I care about, which is why I would rate both Adventure and Ghost Game higher in my personal list.

Since you've brought up different series, it's made me think about my own biases to each series and why I have them and how the way one is introduced to a series can make such a difference on their impression of a show.

There seems to be this push recently (...ok, last decade) in fandom for fans to be more objective in their thoughts and feelings on a piece of media. I'm not really sure why, since the whole point of fandom is about being stupidly passionate about something and finding others who support that passion. I've tried being in fandoms where almost all the most-active members would do is analyse and critique every new work that came out. It was frankly exhausting to try and be a part of. That's not to say one can't criticise something, but in my own experience it tends to snuff out creativity in smaller fandoms.

So as a counter to that, here's my personal opinions on each Digimon series and how the way I approached each season likely shaped my viewing. Warning for lots of rambling and bias.

Interacting with media, whether they're books, TV shows or films among others, is deeply personal. The main reason I gave up doing write ups of each episode of Ghost Game wasn't because I stopped enjoying the show, but because I didn't get anything from writing my thoughts out in such a way. I've always preferred the fanfiction and fanart side of Fandom, rather than the side that analyses every scene and critiques and speculates, although I appreciate why others enjoy that.

Like probably many that still hold the original Adventure in their top spot, I started watching it at a very impressionable time. I had watched one non-episodic series before, so a plot going over a whole series in a cartoon was pretty new to me and I loved it. I started watching Digimon during the Myotismon arc at a time when there was no easy way to quickly catch up with a series without trying to tune into every episode on TV I could find. I honestly don't think I would've stuck around if I'd started watching the series sooner, but it's difficult to know for sure. By that point the dubbing changes were less obvious, although still there, and I absolutely fell in love with the characters, the settings and the plot about a bunch of kids around my age trying to save the world with all their virtues and flaws exposed. It's stuck with me even as an adult, so even if an objectively better Digimon series came along, I think it would still be an uphill battle to dislodge Adventure from the top.

I watched almost all of Adventure 02 and Tamers as they came out: weekly episodes that I sometimes had to miss due to other commitments. Unfortunately, I missed the finale of Tamers and it was literal years until I saw the final two episodes. I've done rewatches of both since and have an appreciation for them, but they just highlighted how much I missed the original Adventure kids. Is that fair? Not really. I also didn't particularly like what they did to Rika or Jeri in Tamers who were basically the only reason I kept watching (especially the former). I also wasn't a fan of the final arc, but get why others did like it.

Frontier is a weird one because I will fully admit I rate this one too highly on my personal lists compared to what it deserves. I saw it at a time when I was moving... a lot, so pretty much only saw a handful of episodes from the first half. But again, I loved the characters and I got enough of a hint of the story with Kouji and Kouichi that I was really intrigued. When I finally watched the rest of the series in it's total I was pretty disappointed like many that half the cast was side-lined and the sexism with Zoe/Izumi was pretty off-putting. Still, the initial potential of the series will always stick with me.

Savers was the first series I watched through online so went through binges and breaks as I caught up with episodes. As I said at the start, it was good, but just didn't leave an impression in the same way. Some of that was probably because I just went through episodes, leaving little time to contemplate them after. And the characters didn't hook me the same way.

I've not finished Fusion/Hunters or Appmon. The first dragged like many Digimon series and I found trying to get to where the plot picked up difficult, and Appmon was... loud. I don't think I've ever hated the partnership/evolutions scenes before, which has made viewing more than an episode at a time a real struggle and doesn't particularly leave me wanting more, despite promising characters. Both would've benefitted from me being able to watch in weekly episodes, but I missed Fusion's release and I had held out on Appmon, hoping it would be distributed legally given Tri. was.

Tri, Adventure: and Ghost Game I watched as they were released. I personally really enjoyed Tri. although understand the criticism that fans have. Given it was made by a new team, though, I never had expectations for it to feel the exact same as Adventure and I really appreciated them trying new things even if it didn't always work. In contrast, Adventure: seemed to lean too heavily on nostalgia rather than trying to be it's own thing. The expectations for the latter were too difficult for me to overcome, which is why I dropped the series about half way through. I do appreciate the pandemic may have messed with their original plans though.

And finally Ghost Game. I don't think I've hidden that I was originally disappointed when learning the series was going to be episodic and focussed on getting in new fans. I interpreted that as most of the episodes were going to be stand-alone so a new viewer could pick up the series at any point, which probably appropriately set my expectations. It was designed so someone could drop in part-way through the series without needing to go back to the beginning a bit like how TV shows aired when Digimon first started. Was it a good idea? I'm not sure, but for me I liked the comparatively low stakes in contrast to the others, while being more "realistic" on the consequences of humans and digimon trying to live together - something Tamers tried to do, but I personally thought was less successful in because it focussed more on the action and consequences to the kids rather than wider society. Ghost Game is also the first Digimon series I've watched where I feel I could stitch together a completely different story while still keeping to canon, which offers some great fanfiction possibilities I hope might get explored. I'll fully admit I was pretty surprised and disappointed a new Digimon show wasn't announced on the back of it, since it felt like Ghost Game was going to be the gateway for new fans, but with lots of newer series taking months or years off in between seasons, maybe continuity just isn't as important anymore.

Digimon has been around long enough it has a wide range of viewers since, unlike a series such as Pokémon that sticks to a formulae, it's constantly trying new things. It means some series will work for you and some will not quite resonate.

And that's a good thing!

#digimon #ghost game #wall o' text #I'm so sorry anon #you can just read the bit before the cut #the rest is my pure self-indulgence based on your ask #ghost game is such a gold mine for canon-based fanfiction #wish I had more time for all my ideas

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keigokoutarou · 1 year

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“Do you like my hips?”

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Pt. 1.5 | Pt. 2

Warnings: suggestive content

Purely self indulgent based off of a dream I had involving my crush cosplaying as ghost. Enjoy.

You sighed, eyes still in your book as your phone buzzed with a phone call. Rolling them in an annoyed manner, you shifted your eyes toward the phone resting by your ankle on the large chaise in your sunroom. Your face looked surprised at the caller.

“Lieutenant Pouty”

You swiped to answer FaceTime, trying not to seem excited about a random call.

“Lieutenant?” You questioned. “You never FaceTime me. What's wrong?

“Nothings wrong.” His voice was gruff.

You listened to the phone be moved around before sitting down against something. You watched the military grade cargo pants come into view at the hips. He was standing angled, hips facing slightly to the side and swaying as he moved to mess with things you couldn’t see off camera. You tried so hard not to stare but his waist looked impossibly good. He had on a tight black shirt that tucked into them so well and his physic was so evident. You’d always admired his body, loving his broad shoulders and how he tapered in at the waist. He was going to be the death of you and he didn’t even have a clue.

“What are you doing then?” You asked, trying to shake off the nerves.

“Wanted to show you something.” He answered swiftly, hands coming around to clip his utility belt around his waist. You inwardly groaned to yourself at how much smaller his waist looked.

“Your hips sir?” You joked, only you didn’t feel amused, you felt hot and drowning in it.

“Don’t have my mask on yet.” He continued with his short answers.

“I’ll call you back then.” You were trying, at least. Trying to get yourself out of a potential situation with your Lieutenant before you could embarrass yourself.

“Absolutely not, Sergeant.” He paused what he was doing.

You remained silent, wondering if he could even see your face that well from the angle he had the phone at.

As the unbearable silence continued, he began putting strapping things around his thighs and hooking them up to the utility belt.

“Sir, I respect you but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to be facetiming with parts of you.” You sighed, being more forward with your uncomfortableness.

“This is payback.” You heard his voice drop an octave with a hint of play backing his tone.

“Payback?” You questioned. “Sir, I'm not quite sure what you mean.” You quizzed

He didn't answer that and continued on in his doings. He reached for the skull mask, almost dangling it in front of the camera before lifting it. You could hear the sound of it slipping on over his hair.

“Perhaps I should call Sergeant McTavish to gain a better idea of what I’ve done to upset you.” You grumbled.

He still didn’t answer. You watched him pull his sleeves up, showing his tattoos before exhaling.

“Are you alone, Sergeant?” He questioned with his voice sounding a bit more muffled because of his mask.

“I’m home, yes sir.” You answered confused. “But I don’t see how that’s any of your concern unless you need to tell me something classified.”

“I need to ask you something.” He continued, voice dry as winter air.

“Alright.” You nodded, finally feeling like you could breathe again.

“I overheard you speaking with Soap.” He started adjusting his gloves to his liking and not bothering to adjust the phone. “You told him how much you loved my hips.”

You're sure if your soul hadn’t left your body in all of those near death experiences, it sure was now. Your face flushed immediately and your heart raced in its cage.

“Is that true, Sergeant?” He continued, seemingly unbothered by what he said to you.

“Sir I-“ you started, pausing before taking a deep breath. “You must have misheard me.”

“Hmm.” He quizzed inwardly. “Are you lying?”

“No sir.” You tried to even your voice.

“You know that lying to your superior could mean discharge.” He continued.

It was moments like this where you cursed the life lessons he faced that made him so unbelievably stoic at the worst of times.

You had absolutely no words for the man on the other line as he tilted the phone to face him. He didn’t pick it up though and that made you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. You were meeting his eyes from the waist up and the angle almost made you pass out.

“I’ll ask again.” His usually cold eyes almost seemed to squint in amusement. Was he enjoying this? “Do you like my hips, sergeant?”

Even from this angle, his eyes bore into yours and you knew there was no chance in lying to him.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled, speaking your truth and sending all of your dignity with it.

“Atta girl.” He sounded so satisfied. “This is your payback for wearing that shirt yesterday.”

Your eyebrows knitted together before reaching an aha moment. You wore a skin tight black spaghetti strap crop top yesterday because it was the hottest day of the year. You and the team were fiddling around with maintenance on all of the buggies so it was a no brainer to dress cool. However you remembered thinking how great your chest looked and maybe on purpose, you made sure Ghost thought the same.

“You aren’t dumb, sergeant.” He continued on, watching as you reached a conclusion in your mind. “I almost thought you didn’t catch me looking.”

And you almost didn’t. Had you not been so attentive to reading your Lieutenants eyes, you would have absolutely missed the way his eyes flickered slightly toward your cleavage when you subtly pulled your shirt down a bit by it’s hem.

“Anyhow.” He interrupted your train of thought. “I assume this won’t happen again.”

“No sir.” You we’re drowning in that heat now with no life jacket in sight.

“At least not without proper punishment.” You picked up on his excitement showing through his tone as he camera angled back at his hips and he stepped back revealing the much more obvious tenting of his pants.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sergeant.” He bed before clicking the call to an end.

A wicked smirk complimenting your flushed face came into play and you sure as hell were going to fuck with your lieutenant some more.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #mw2 imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 headcanons #mw2 hcs #cod hcs #cod imagine #cod headcanons #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley smut

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stararch4ngelqueen · 5 months

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Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc

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belovedguk · 7 days

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waiting room (teaser)

↪˚ summary: you know cutting off jungkook from your life is for the better, but your heart is not ready to leave the waiting room just yet.

↪˚ pairing: legma stud!jungkook x legma stud!fem!reader | side pairings: jungkook x legma stud!fem!oc (andi yu) + reader x comm stud!jake sim (enha)

↪˚ genres: heavy angst, romance, situationship au, filo au 🇵🇭

↪˚ warnings: this story is fiction. it does not represent the members of bangtan or any of the idols here in real life. all resemblance to real life characters, institutions, associations, places, events, among others are either purely coincidence or depicted in a fictitious manner only. there are eally no glaring warnings for this story besides depiction of toxic relationships, red flag bedista jungkook, situationships (pls don’t put yourself in this kind of relationship PLS), consumption of alcohol and use of cigarettes, ocs & jungkook are aged 24 here, age gap between reader & jake (2 years), class disparity & its implications on love and dating, and just angst angst angst. if i miss any warnings, i’ll make sure to add them once full fic is out. these are the general warnings.

↪˚ author’s note: another self-indulgent fic feat two of my fave guys rn—jungkook loml and jaeyun who’s slowly finding a home in my heart ♡ and based upon phoebe bridgers’ waiting room + all the songs in this playlist. to all the people who have been someone’s waiting room, this is for you. also animo san beda, i guess??? lmao pls do consider donating to my kofi or gcash (they’re on my pinned) <33 it’ll really help me out a lot!! lmk if you wanna be tagged by commenting below or sending me an ask (since the form on my pinned are for those who want to be on my permanent taglist). also do reblog or comment your thoughts so far :’) it’s so fun writing angst ngl

↪˚ total word count: TBA (est. 10k) | teaser word count: 1,095

↪˚ release date: within this month (april 2024)

There is only one person who calls you in the middle of the night and there is only person whose call you answer regardless how tired you are. Sitting up on your twin-sized bed, you put on your rectangular spectacles and grab the vibrating phone on your nightstand.

“Hey,” you greet in a hoarse voice.

“Hey, I’m outside,” Jungkook says on the other line.

You glance at the time on your phone—2:37 am—and without thinking twice about it, you reply, “Okay. I’ll be downstairs in a bit.”

Jungkook says okay and hangs up. You quickly make your way out of your room, grabbing your wooly hoodie hanging on your chair tucked under your desk along the way, and tiptoe to the bathroom to not wake your parents.

After you wash your face and brush your teeth, you leave your humble abode, sucking your teeth as you open the squeaking gate. Once the gap is enough for you to slip through, you see Jungkook’s car immediately. It’s parked a couple of houses down from yours, but it stands out—not only because it’s white; it’s one of the few cars parked on your street.

You make your way to the white Mercedes-Benz and hear the familiar click of his lock. Then, you open the door and step into his car. Immediately, you feel the chilly air, hear the soft RnB song from his stereo, and smell his pungent expensive cologne mixed with the obvious nicotine.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, putting his car on drive.

You nod, putting on your seatbelt. He nods back and begins to drive. Like the other nights, the drive is filled with silence. During these minutes, you rest your head on the window, watching the establishments outside pass by and let your thoughts race.

It’s Monday, you have a seven thirty class in a few hours, and a total of two and a half hours of sleep. Knowing what’s about to come once you arrive at the place, you’re sure you won’t be able to catch up any more after. The rational part of you knows that you shouldn’t have answered the call and ride this car, but when it comes to the man beside you, you always listen to your heart.

You’re not exactly sure how this began. You’re not sure what to call this too. All you know is that after spending the night with Jeon Jungkook during the block after finals party back in freshman year, just talking and sometimes kissing, the two of you started something. He began messaging you, at first, using academics as an excuse to do so, but the academic chats turned into more, then the calls came. Through the night, you’d be on the call with him, talking about everything and nothing, until the both of you fell asleep and daybreak arrived.

In those moments, you fell for him—hard. But you knew better than to let those feelings grow, let alone be known. You and Jungkook couldn’t be any more different from each other. He’s worlds away from you despite the close proximity between the two of you now in his car. Besides, you knew Jungkook would never return your feelings because his heart would always belong to Andi Yu even when he’s kissing you.

It was enough being this for him because throughout the years, it’s better to be something than nothing in his life at all.

It’s an hour later when you arrive at the bay side. After buying some snacks from the local convenience store (and a pack of Marlboro Red for Jungkook), you lead the way, as usual, to your spot with the plastic bag containing all the snacks and drinks swinging on your side. It’s quite chilly since it’s early in the morning and the water has been pulled back from the shore below. The crescent moon doesn’t cast much light, but fortunately, there are still street lamps along the bay.

Once you’re at your usual spot, you pull yourself onto the stone wall, a smile instantly appearing on your tired face as you look at the orange lights from the lamps glisten on the water below you. Moments later, Jungkook sits beside you, letting his leg rest over the other side of the wall while you have yours crossed under you.

“You walk so fast,” he comments as he takes the can of beer from the plastic bag. “Like you’re always running from something.”

“I can’t help it,” you tell him. “I’ve always been a fast walker.”

You take out the sandwich from the plastic bag along with the bottle of coffee, placing the latter beside you. The soft pop of Jungkook’s beer fills the air.

“Did you finish reading the assigned cases for Consti?” he asks.

You nod. “I did. Did you?”

He shakes his head, smacking his lips after drinking his beer. “I got distracted.”

You hum in response. “I can send you my case digests. We still have the entire day before Consti.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook glances at you for confirmation. You nod once again. He nudges your side and you look up at him through your spectacles while taking a bite out of your pepperoni and cheese sandwich. The soft charming smile is plastered on his lips. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Silence falls between the two of you again. You’ve finished your sandwich and are halfway to your coffee when Jungkook speaks again.

“Andi wants to get back together,” he shares, leaning back with his arms as support. He crosses his feet below. “She messaged me a while ago, asking to meet up, and we did. Then she asked if we could try again.”

You’ve heard of this story before. But it still doesn’t soften the blow in your heart every time that you do. You have, however, mastered the art of acting nonchalant about it.

“That’s good, then,” you reply. “You can try again.”

“You think so?” he asks.

When you look over your shoulder, Jungkook is already staring at you. As always, you can’t decipher what exactly he’s feeling or thinking at the moment. His face remains passive, stoic when it comes to conversations about his on again, off again relationship with Andi.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah. It’s obvious you still love her and she loves you. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Jungkook pokes his cheek with his tongue, nodding slowly. “I guess so. As expected, you are the smartest person I know, Lim Y/N.”

You know this. But when it comes to Jeon Jungkook, you’re a fucking idiot.

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sabersandsnipers · 6 months

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Blood Stained

Purely self indulgent steaminess with Astarion

Your day was insanity to say the least. The line of patients wishing to see you seemed to never end. And then there was a fight that had broken out in the city, one that included swords and daggers. So even more showed up to get their wounds taken care of.

But even as your feet and back start to ache on your journey home, you can't bring yourself to regret becoming a healer. A sense of pride flows through you, knowing that you were able to help lessen the pain of those who saw you today.

As soon as you're through the door, Astarion is all over you. You're barely out of the doorway when he puts his hands on your hips and buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

You laugh, hands instinctively going to play with the curls that rest at the base of his neck. "I guess you missed me today, huh?"

A soft moan is the only response you get. The vibrations against your skin causes a tight knot of pleasure to begin forming within you.

"And you always smell so delicious after work," he says. His hips rut against yours. You smother the whimper that builds in the back of your throat.

Realization twinges in your mind then. A slow grin builds on your face as you recall the last couple times you returned from work. Astarion was always on you in an instant, craving your smell and your touch.

"It's the blood, isn't it?" you ask, hands falling to his shoulders.

He pulls away from the kisses he's been placing on your neck. He plays stupid at your question. "What ever could you mean?"

You let your hands slide down his chest. His eyes darken at your movements.

"I'm always cleaning up gashes and cuts at work," you say. You draw out the words "gashes" and "cuts", and he growls. "I'll bet you can still smell the blood on my skin when I get home."

He begins to push your body back, cornering you against the door. "It drives me mad when you come home smelling of pure blood," he whispers in your ear.

Excitement thrums in your veins when you feel the hard length of him press against your lower abdomen. "The smell of all those strangers' blood on your skin..." he says. A low hum leaves his throat. "I can't stop myself from wanting to devour you."

A gasp leaves your lips as he grazes his fangs against your throat. You grab onto the firmness of his biceps, attempting to hold yourself up as your legs grow weak.

"I need you," he says breathlessly. His hands begin to roam under your shirt.

Your thighs clench together. "I should bathe first," you tell him, knowing he wants to have you while the blood on your skin fills him with lust.

You can feel his body tighten at your words. "Don't tease."

You can't bring yourself to keep torturing him as his skilled fingers begin to work their magic.

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion imagine

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bythepen98 · 1 year

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N/ purely self-indulgent hhh, plus I always wanted to do something like this when I read a good fic. First attempt at making a webcomic.

Based on @rayshippouuchiha's ShikaNaru fic "The Brightest Flame (The Darkest Shadow)" :D

Rated: M

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Genderfluid Character, Yandere Shikamaru Nara, Smitten Shikamaru Nara, Naruto with Tsunade's Strength, Love At first Chakra Enhanced Strike,.... etc.

Chapters (so far): 2/?

Summary:

Shikamaru’s never felt chakra so vibrant and warm before.

The log that Naruto’s been punching shatters clean apart, reduced to little more than splinters under the devastating force of his chakra enhanced blow.

Shocked and more than a bit startled, Shikamaru wheezes loudly, the sound carrying across the clearing and causing Naruto to abruptly turn and look in his direction.

And in that single moment Shikamaru is lost.

[excerpt]

...because Shikamaru is a Nara to the core, is the strongest they've seen in generations, and the Nara have always been a clan of Shadows after all.

and what does the shadow crave more than the light?

Naruto, with his ocean blue eyes and his golden hair swaying in the breeze his attack had created, shines as bright as the sun itself.

And Shikamaru intends to have him.

(edit: forgot to add this)

..."so much for that quiet wife and two ordinary kids idea."

"Time for a new plan." Because, really, there's no way life with Naruto is going to be any form of quiet or normal.

....Shikamaru's entire life plan has to be thrown out the window and then redrawn from scratch.

Either way Shikamaru's not actually all that upset about his entire life being thrown into an abrupt upheaval.

After all, convincing Naruto to marry him as soon as possible will be well worth the effort.

Naruto's pretty sure this is the closest they've ever actually been to one another outside of the few times they've been paired up to spar in class.

"What're you doing after this?" Shikamaru asks, one hand coming out of his pocket to reach out and play idly with the dangling sleeve of Naruto's kimono.

"After training?" Naruto keeps one eye on Shikamaru's hand...

"More like for the rest of your life," Shikamaru says. "But sure, we can start with training."

Naruto blinks.

.....[Naruto's] not really sure what, exactly, is happening here but he thinks this might mean Shikamaru wants to be his friend now.

Ah my sweet summer child.

Not an exact play by play of what was written in the fic, only the gist I guess and the moment that rly stuck in my head and got me giggling in my pillow.

My love for the "oblivious pure(?) mc and their darker, possessive s/o" trope has struck again. Couldn't've stopped myself from finishing this even when sleep-deprived, which I currently am right now. Had fun challenging myself with this too and might attempt it again with a future chapter or other works depending on my schedule. I'm occupied with studying this month so making something time extensive like this won't happen for awhile yet.

Excitedly waiting for updates :D

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brighttears · 11 months

Text

What is Thicker Than Water

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: In the aftermath of an attack on you, Joel, and Ellie, Joel cleans someone else's blood off of you. You reflect on your maternal violence, you and Joel connect without needing words.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, injury, and blood, mentions motherhood (reader is not a mother), pet name (baby)

A/n: this is purely self indulgent kind of based around inner monologue ? and perhaps a little weird . I have a request that I am going to do! just haven’t had the fluff in me past couple days 😪

—

You feel your screams more than you hear them, all of your attention focused on your fist colliding with his face. Drowning in a vengeful ferocity, you’re barely aware of where you are until something heavy pushes you off of the body. You thrash under the new grip on your arms until Joel’s voice, “It’s me, it’s me.” reorients you, “It’s okay. Ellie’s okay.”

His eyes are wide looking at you and then down to your reddened fist. Carefully, he takes it in his hands to evaluate. “We need to go.” looking past you, he adds, “Now, Ellie, we gotta move.” and then he’s pulling you by your wrist and you fall from one foot onto the next. Everything is blurred and blaring; your hand and face are throbbing hot, pain stabs through the soles of your feet as they land harshly on the concrete and you heave fire. Shouts and gunshots chase you.

“Ellie,” you swing your head around, looking.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” you find her at your side and then you’re back and remember to sprint.

When you get to the truck, you fling the back door open and shove Ellie in before you. Joel’s door slams shut as he jerks onto the road.

In the backseat, you take Ellie’s face in your hands, frantically examining her, “Are you ok?” you ask, gasping raggedly. The truck rattles and bumps.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you see doe eyes looking back at you and a harsh red contrasts in the corner of your eye. Removing your hands from her face, you find the source and stare down at your shaking hand.

“Shit.” Your knuckles are maroon, seeping bright red down into your sleeve.

“Are you ok?” Ellie’s young voice sounds over the pounding in your ears as you continue to stare, unable to understand what you are seeing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, are you ok?” you shoot your eyes back up to her, panic’s adrenaline having your teeth almost chattering.

Ellie blinks her doe eyes, a mystery flashing over her brow before she responds, “Yeah, I’m ok. Okay?” she raises her eyebrows, trying to find your focus with her eyes until you nod in acknowledgment.

“Joel?” you look to the front seat.

His shoulders are strung up, knuckles white and twisting on the wheel. In front of him is a wash of muted blue and a strip of speckled gray, the yellow divider lines rushing centered under the car. “I’m alright.” he reassures you. Staring straight ahead, all you can see of him is his tense shoulders, taut curled hands, and silver streaked hair. “Ellie, check the rest of her.”

You look down and wet red is spattered over your brown plaid flannel. Ellie takes your shoulders to turn you, leaning around to look over your back, then smooths her hands over your covered arms. She leans down, tugging at your jeans to check over your legs, and then calls to the front, “She’s fine except for her face.”

“My face?” you raise a hand up to touch it and immediately regret it when a sharp pain from your nose electrifies your entire face. You pull away red fingers. “Did I break my nose?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Joel tells you, “Everythin’s fine. I’m gonna find somewhere to stop as soon as I can.”

“Shit,” you sway as you recollect the events prior to being here in the rickety, rumbling truck—

The raider had Ellie on the ground, one hand holding her hands clasped above her head and the other pressing the barrel of a gun against her forehead. Her wailing resounded in your skull and your body went numb. Then you were straddling him, screaming and hammering your fist into his face. You look back down at your bloody knuckles. “Shit. Did you get the stuff?”

Joel sighs through his nose, “No.”

“Shit.” you rub your palms over your eyes and then drag them down your cheeks.

“We’ll find it another way. Don’t worry about it. You’re my main concern right now.” he glances at you from the rearview mirror.

You can feel the adrenaline flowing out of you as your body weighs into the cool leather seat. Knowing that the three of you are all safe, together in the small cabin of the truck, you let your head lean back as your brain smothers you with sleep.

—

“Baby, hey,” a voice ripples from somewhere above you. Barely on the cusp of consciousness, you can’t identify whose it is, but something makes you want to go to it, so you kick your legs and swim back up to opening eyes. “Hey, we’re stoppin’ here for the night.”

“Stop where.” you push yourself awake, blinking your eyes wide. “Oh fuck. Ow.” You reach a hand up to your face but Joel blocks your wrist.

“Come on, we’ll take care a that inside.”

You follow another painful ache to your hand, bloody and swollen. “Jesus.”

“It’s alright, just let me get you inside.” Joel touches your arm, urging you out of your seat, and your feet drop onto gravel.

“Where’s Ellie?”

She appears in front of you, “I’m here.” Her voice is clear and refreshing.

“Okay.” you stare at her, she gives you a soft smile, and then you bring her into your arms, resting your chin over her shoulder. You pet her hair once, shaggy and loosely held in her hairband. Ellie takes a deep breath and it flows over your neck and shoulder. You let her go and the three of you start walking to the run-down motel.

Inside, Joel unloads your gear onto the stiff, tan armchair and fake-wood side table in the corner while you and Ellie sit down on the creaky metal queen bed. He digs out his water canteen and a scrap of cloth, nearing threadbare, and turns to you sitting behind Ellie, combing your fingers through her hair before retying her ponytail, murmuring consolations. She giggles, light but warm hearted, her finger tracing over the flowers on the bedspread. Joel touches your shoulder for you to stand, and then gently guides you into the bathroom just across from the bed with a hand on your lower back.

You lift yourself up to sit on the counter, facing Joel, and he pulls the door in until it’s open only a crack. He takes your chin to turn with his thumb and index finger and you watch his eyes run over your face. “Looks much worse than it is. Just bloody.” Then he takes the cloth and presses it folded around the lip of the canteen, flipping it briefly to wet it. When he starts wiping the cool wetness over your forehead and cheek you look at him quizzically, under the impression that the only wound on your face is your nose. He avoids your eyes so you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection startles you.

The thick red running from your nose, over your lips and down your neck, dark and clotted, isn’t unexpected, but the smears and splatter covering the rest of your face are. A slit on the bridge of your nose has coated it almost entirely in red, but the rest of you is heavily freckled with blood that is not your own. It’s gotten into your mouth, it sticks in your eyebrows and passes your hairline. Looking at your reflection, you see a mutilator, a knife, a butcher, a murderer. In your eyes you recognize something that you can’t immediately place, but realize it is a look you’ve only seen in a mother’s eyes. You’re emblazoned with bloodshed, decorated by the inherent aptitude of love. You go to wipe two fingers over a large blotch near the corner of your mouth and there you are met with your bleeding instrument. With a shuddering sigh, eyelids fluttering, you continue to rub.

“Hey,” with a hand on you trap, Joel pulls you back to face him, “it’s okay, it looks much worse than it is—”

“Did I kill him?”

Joel sighs, “I don’t know. Didn’t stop to check, just ran.” he goes back to swiping broad strokes over your face with the cool cloth.

You remember the face under your fist again and Ellie, the way she looked with that gun on her forehead, and then the way she looked at you in the car.

“Ellie.” you whisper, looking into Joel’s eyes and grabbing his biceps, anxiety puckering your brow, “She saw all that. What if she’s scared of me now? What if she thinks I’m gonna hurt her?”

Joel shakes his head. “Kid’s seen way worse. You don’t need to worry about that. This is gonna hurt now, I’m sorry.” he looks back to your face instead of your eyes, moving the cloth to your nose. The pain is stifled by the burn of his words, the reminder of the tragedy of young Ellie. You can’t save her from what’s happened to her before you met her, you can’t protect her from all of it, you can protect her from very little. Death is only one of many enemies. You could kill half the country, beat anyone who even has a thought of hurting her, and you still couldn’t save her. You stay still as he mops up the blood.

When he refolds the cloth you see the bright red starting to permeate it and swallow hard as he starts brushing it over your lips. Joel tips your chin up with a finger and then takes the back of your neck to hold it in place as he slowly drags the damp cloth over your chin and down your neck. “Okay, lemme see your face again.” He whispers, then using his thumb and fingers to rub at the faded spots, his other hand still on the back of your neck. “Does your nose hurt?”

“A little. How fucked up is it?”

“It’s a little bent… kinda cute, though.” He smirks and it slices through your film of gloom and you smile. He stills his hand and watches his thumb resting in the flesh of your cheek.

“You should see the other guy.” you whisper.

Joel chuckles, “I did.” Then he sighs softly, taking his hand away from your face to scan it with half lidded eyes. “Alright, lemme see your hand.” He lets go of your neck and fully refolds the cloth, flipping it over the bottle again to wetten it, then changes his mind and chooses to first run the water over your hand.

“Fuck.” you whisper, flinching as it burns the open skin at the peak of your knuckles.

“I know baby, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Just reflex.” you take a deep breath and he starts wiping at the caking red with the near already saturated cloth.

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

“Is it broken?”

“A little. It’ll heal on its own. We’ll just keep it wrapped.”

‘We’ll’ sounds good coming out of Joel's mouth, meaning us, as in I'm with you.

He runs the last of the water from his canteen over your hand, does some final brushes and blots with the cloth, and then says, “Stay here.” He dips out of the room and comes back with a brown stained tan rolled bandage. He folds the wet cloth to lay over your knuckles, securing it with his hand under yours, palm up, able to hold each side down with his thumb and index finger. He starts wrapping your hand, taking his time, stopping to redo a roll if he’s not happy with it. You smirk unconsciously, watching his knitted brow and lips pouting in focus. When he’s done, he holds it from below again, turning it slightly to make sure it’s to his liking. Joel looks up to meet your eyes and takes his other hand to rest under your jaw and over your cheek. He takes another deep breath as his eyes flicker down to your lips and back at your eyes. He sighs.

There is still residue from the thick pour of blood from your nose over your chapped lips. He can't help himself and brings them to his, transferring copper onto his tongue, tasting the bloodshed as justified. He keeps gentle hold of your wrapped hand until you bring it to rest over his shoulder, then moving to hold your waist instead, fingers, dirty and scarred, digging soft nails into your charred and stained skin. He steps closer to you and you take your other hand to grasp his hair, raising your chest, inadvertently seeking more contact. For the sake of your nose, he’s trying to be gentle, but you thirst for each other, hooked on the stranger’s wine on your lips and tongue. Joel moves closer until he’s against the counter himself, taking the hand from your waist down to splay over where your shirt and pants meet to pull you closer; your bodies are pressed middle to middle, organs to organs. Your back is arched to adhere to him and you roll your hips into the heated contact. When a soft moan slips out of you, you and Joel pull apart, temperature falling remembering Ellie in the next room. Still connected, you’re Narcissus in the pool of each other’s eyes; revealed, wet and tragic; decoded, devastating captives of love.

Copper rolls around on your tongues bittersweet. You thumb away your red mark on Joel’s cupid’s bow and another on his cheek. It’s ironic how easily blood can be washed off of skin.

In the faint vestige spots of violence on your face, Joel reads ‘Ellie’. Again he treasures your eyes and the look he saw in them from the rearview mirror—hysteria, soul gripped so hard it was turning blue, instinctually boring into Ellie, short circuiting in it and asking her twice. He is Narcissus in your eyes. He slides his hand over your neck, finding your pulse with his thumb. “You’re okay.” he whispers.

“I’m okay.” you whisper back.

“She’s okay.”

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fic #the last us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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hisui-dreamer · 10 months

Text

a fool's heartstrings

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you are just a fool in love, and he can so easily pull on your heartstrings

Tags: fluff, first date, festival, rambling, reader is a simp, self indulgent, slightly thirsty, reader wears a skirt, bot proofread

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: this was purely self-indulgent and reader is kinda based on my own personality hehe

@v-anrouge and @azulashengrottospiano here is the awaited shoujo first date fic hahaha

Masterlist

You're acting like a fool in love.

You pace anxiously by the glistening fountain in the heart of the town square, your every movement a reflection of the swirling emotions within you. Your heart, like a fluttering bird trapped in a cage as the time ticked by relentlessly, each passing second heightening your nervousness.

Months of careful planning had led to this moment, the culmination of your hopes and dreams. It had taken courage, a delicate thread woven through your days, to gather the strength to ask Jade out on a date. And what better event for a first date than the annual festival on Sage Island?

The golden rays of the setting sun bathed the square in a warm, amber glow, casting long shadows that danced across the cobblestone pavement. The festival ambience enveloped you, teasing your senses with the tantalizing aromas of sizzling street food and the distant melodies of live performances.

You had meticulously planned your arrival, desperate not to keep Jade waiting and be punctual. The sheer eagerness within you had prompted you to arrive a whole 20 minutes early, despite the chaos it had caused in your preparations. You cast a scrutinizing gaze upon your reflection in one of the shop windows, running your eyes over your ensemble for what felt like the umpteenth time, ensuring that every element rested precisely in its intended place.

Hours upon hours were spent immersed in a whirlwind of stress where you attended to each minuscule aspect, from the intricate arrangement of your hair, artfully coaxed into place, to the careful application of makeup that accentuated your features with a touch of joyful charm. Right now, you can confidently say you look cute and worthy to stand next to Jade!

Lost in your frantic mind, you are suddenly jolted back to reality as you catch sight of those alluring teal locks. There he is, Jade, the magnetic force that holds your heart captive. With each step he takes, there is an effortless grace in his stride, as if he is moving in harmony with a hidden symphony only he could hear. The usual formal attire of his school or dorm uniform is replaced by a casual outfit, and you can't help but feel mesmerized by how handsome he looks, his sharp features illuminated by an ethereal, golden glow.

A soft, tender smile graces Jade's lips as he closes the distance between you, its warmth radiating towards you like a soothing sunbeam. It's a smile that holds a touch of mischief, yet carrying an air of sincerity, leaving you captivated by its charm.

"Prefect, I apologize for making you wait," Jade greets you with utmost politeness, his voice like a melody floating on a gentle breeze. His eyes, sparkling like sunlight on a clear day, meets yours with a glimmer of anticipation.

"N-No problem at all," you stammer, a blush blooming across your cheeks. The rush of nervousness makes your words stumble and falter. "I… uh… just got here a bit early."

Jade's soft chuckle dances in the air. "My, I didn't think you would be so eager," he remarks.

The blush deepes, and you find yourself fidgeting with the fabric of your skirt, feeling a sudden self-consciousness under his gaze. Your words spill out in a rush, as if trying to catch up with the flurry of emotions swirling within you. "Well, um… I just… I wanted to make sure I didn't keep you waiting."

He takes a deliberate step closer, and the air around you seems to crackle with shared energy. His presence sends shivers down your spine, intertwining with a tingling warmth. "How very considerate of you," he says, his voice a captivating blend of appreciation and mischief.

Your gaze can't help but wander over his frame, eagerly committing every detail to memory. Clad in a short-sleeved button-up shirt, he retains a gentlemanly air, but the outfit offers a glimpse of his surprisingly muscular arms, typically hidden beneath his polite and gentle facade. The sight catches you off guard, and you can feel all the heat in your body rising to your cheeks as you shake your head, attempting to dismiss those wayward thoughts and refocus your attention on talking to Jade, not staring blankly at him.

Sensing your flustered state, Jade's smile widens teasingly. "Are you okay, Prefect? You seem a little lost in thought."

You quickly regained your composure, replying shyly, "Oh, uhm, it's nothing, Jade. You… you look really handsome today. I mean, not that you don't always look good, but… uhm… Oh, you know what I mean."

Jade covers his mouth with his hand and laughs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I appreciate the compliment, Floyd helped me pick it out," he admits. “You look enchanting my dear, this outfit suits you incredibly well."

You dare yourself to entertain the thought that maybe Jade valued this date with you. Maybe he sees it as more than a mere passing fancy, an opportunity to spend time together and even put in effort in his appearance to the point of eliciting Floyd's help. And…

Oh.

He called you "enchanting".

As the realization settles in, your cheeks flush like the warm hues of the setting sun. The weight of his compliment sinks deep into your being. You can't help but sneak a peek at Jade's expression, hoping to catch any hint of his true feelings. Is he being sincere, or is he just being polite? You sincerely consider splashing water on your face to calm yourself, but ‘no’, you think to yourself, ‘that would just be foolish’.

At your turmoil, Jade simply observes your reaction. "Well, let's enjoy the festival together, shall we?" His smile widens as he reaches out his hand as an offer.

Dumbfounded by the rush of emotions coursing through your veins, you nod in a daze, your thoughts in disarray. With trembling fingers, you cautiously place your hand in his, as if awaiting a hidden trick or revelation. But instead, what you find is that his ungloved hand feels warm and strong, with callouses likely formed during his mountain excursions. And you hope you can join him on one of those those expeditions someday.

As if sensing your nervous energy, Jade's grip tightens ever so gently, offering solace and reassurance. It's a silent affirmation, a subtle gesture to quell your anxieties and snap you away from your reeling mind. The contact of his hand against yours infuses a sense of calm, a grounding force that anchored you amidst the flurry of emotions.

And so, hand in hand, you embark on your date through the lively festival, the world around you both fading into a blur of colours, sounds, and mesmerising aromas. Together, you navigate the crowded pathways with interlaced fingers, your heart racing as you wish for time to move slower, and if not, for there to be more moments you could be by his side in the future.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #rinnade #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland jade #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech #jade leech x reader

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ghost-proofbaby · 16 days

Note

I would love a Getting to Know Eddie with your coffee shop blues Eddie. (I’ll let Abi ask for Maroon). 😘

(oh i don’t think i could tell abi much more about maroon eddie than i already have. the space under my desk when im writing maroon literally has her name on it <3)

alright. so. COFFEE SHOP BLUES EDDIE. first and foremost, that eddie is from my purely self indulgent barista!au for those of you who don’t know. for legal reasons, it’s totally not based on true experiences or a very real company. totally not. for legal reasons. but, the entire premise is this eddie entirely untouched from the upside down — non-canon compliance so we can be happy for once baby ! — and just playing around with who he is without all that. he gets the job as a barista, he’s a damn pessimist, and- well, i liked to play around with what would happen if he was the grumpiest barista to ever exist and got reality checked by a sunshine-incarnate barista. and, spoiler alert, the boy would probably melt. he does melt.

my inspiration is drawn entirely from uh… well… can i have a lawyer if i admit this? nah im just kidding he’s based on my own experiences! and contrary to what plenty of people have said to me (if i had a nickel every time said they imagine me as reader i’d be far richer than i am which makes me so 😭), eddie is the character based around me. i think he’d react very similarly to how i do most of the time at work. being grumpy, being so easily inconvenienced by every small thing, always huffing and puffing and wanting to be better. and i think reader is what i’d like to be. at the end of the day, it’s just a nice way to romanticize life, i guess. <3

my favorite headcanon that i’ve never shared in the story is that everyone actually finds that he’s very good at his job. it’s emphasized he isn’t necessarily friends with the other baristas, and there’s a whole lot of him internally comparing himself to the people he thinks do the job better (*cough* reader *cough*), but that whole “i can do better. i have to do better” mentality has led him to being quite good at the job actually. he puts himself down, says he isn’t that good, etc. but he is. customers like that feline grumpiness (the girls that come in regularly for frappucinos in the afternoon are always secretly hoping he’s there, definitely living their ‘i can fix him’ fantasy despite reader already having set sail on that boat), his coworkers admire him albeit they get a lil scared of him due to resting bitch face, and all that. he makes a mean fucking cappuccino. his drinks always just taste better. he’s just good. he’ll never admit it, but damn is he good at his job.

on a casual day, this man is living in comfy clothes. big band tees, plaid pajama pants or sweats. the only time he puts on jeans these days is when he works. which, i mean, listen — he works often. he lives his days by what shift he has, not by days of the week. weekends are nonexistent to him. he’s earned some damn comfort when he’s just at home, ya know? (also, most of his clothes that aren’t graphic tees or comfy pants just stink of coffee these days. ugh.)

his favorite food is probably the cake pops at work. he’s a sweet tooth fiend with them. someone accidentally breaks one when opening the packages? oh no !! he’ll take that off their hands. all of his free food mark outs? 50% cake pops. he’s on food? he’s definitely accidentally bagging and slipping one or two off to the side for himself. sometimes coworkers will try to convince him when he’s on the food position to slip them a free cake pop as well, and every time, he’s flipping them the bird and a quick “steal on your own time, bud”. (unless it’s reader. unless it’s sunshine. then, he’s caving, handing over the birthday cake pop he just marked out for himself without second thought. even if he rolls his eyes as he does it — he’d give her the world if she just asked).

his family situation is pretty close to canon — wayne. and obviously he has hellfire, he has corroded coffin, but all of those are just… small things. he’s finally graduated in this universe, so hellfire doesn’t meet as often. corroded coffin’s members are still in their senior year, so sometimes studying for a calculus test is overriding band practice for them. which i mean, was a bummer and led to him needing a distraction like a part time job (also — money) but it’s all good now, cause he gets to bug Sunshine on his days off when he’s bored. they’ve definitely exchanged numbers, and they’re definitely sending each other an obligatory dumb meme a day. sorry, i don’t make the rules.

he likes pop music. don’t ever ask him about it, he denies it, but Sunshine got him into all those radio hits. he’ll find himself humming along to the radio at work constantly too. and, the one time he and Sunshine worked a very rare, LITERALLY only happened once close together, they definitely were belting out britney spears’ “hit me baby one more time”, dancing around the closed stores and eddie using the mop as a mic while Sunshine tried to stock up all the cups. the shift on duty was unamused, to say the least.

he’s pretty pessimistic in all avenues, but there’s something deep inside of him that’s just a bit hopeless romantic. especially after meeting Sunshine. he listens to her prattle about her romance books all day, and he hates the fact that he finds himself smiling at some of those different scenarios she’s gushing about. but it’s cute, okay? besides, it’s only giving him more ideas about how to wow his favorite barista. sex, on the other hand, he’s still pretty bland on. he’s had one or two one night stands, names he’s forgotten at the Hideout after shows, and he’s not really got the energy to be some sex-crazed fuckboy. listening to his coworkers’ hookup stories and relationship problems work pretty well to remind him he could be doing far worse (but if anyone were to ask him what he thought of Sunshine in that context? oh. oh the poor boy. the scary dog facade fades, and his ears have never been pinker as he’s stuttering about having to grab something from the back that he just stocked. he’s just grateful she never seems to have her own escapades to talk about — he probably wouldn’t survive the world-ending jealousy that would cloud his vision.)

pessimistic. so so pessimistic.

a couple months ago, he would have said his room. alone. or practicing with cc, on his guitar. or behind his dm screens, watching as his little sheep panicked over the latest twist he’s revealed for his current campaign.

but now? maybe he’s just gone soft, but the first place he thinks of is a rainy afternoon in the back of his van, his head in Sunshine’s lap as they listen to the slight drizzle bounce off the roof. he swears if he closes his eyes, he can still feel her fingers against his scalp.

---

JO. JO. I DON'T HAVE THE ORIGINAL POST FOR THIS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT PARAGRAPH IS ANSWERING WHAT PROMPTS. but honestly, even now that i'm free of the siren, i wanna post this. i love prattling on about our little grumpy barista. i luv him.

#tumblr keeping THIS ONE in drafts has to be grounds for fighting right?#like?#it's BARISTA EDDIE #how dare this not post? or maybe i wasn't done answering??? i don't even know anymore #thank u ily <3 #jo <3 #coffee shop blues #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #still laughing at the way i insert the under the desk joke any time i can

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sstormyskyess · 5 months

Text

Your Biggest Fan

author's note: pretty self-indulgent, but hey, what's fanfiction for if not to self-indulge? this is a shoutout to all my artists and writers!!

cw: nothing, just pure fluff

word count: 870+

John Price / GN Artist!Reader

♡ When Price first saw you making your art, he was absolutely stunned. He was so surprised that you hadn’t already shown him your beautiful work. How could you hide such a wonderful talent from him?

♡ If you make fanart/fanfic, he’s ready to learn everything about the show, movie, game, or whatever else that inspires you. It’s just an excuse to sit and cuddle with you on the couch and watch something that makes you happy.

“You’re gonna love this show, honey. It’s right up your alley!” Your smile while you move to sit next to John on the couch warms his heart. You hand him the bowl of popcorn and he holds an arm up for you to settle yourself under. He tosses the blanket over your lap and holds you by the hip, fingers tracing circles over your shirt. “Is that so?” He kisses the top of your head, watching the screen while you pull up Netflix to find the show that’s been consuming your mind for the past few weeks. “For sure!” You laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder.

His eyes shift between you talking about the context behind the show and what’s happening on the screen as each episode plays. He can’t really make out half of what they’re saying on the screen over your giddy voice speaking over it and sharing your thoughts with him, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

Somehow, he manages to hold back his middle-age urge to fall asleep, his head fallen back against the back of the couch. In fact, you fall asleep before he does; when he notices that you haven’t said anything for the past episode or two, he looks down and sees you completely passed out on his shoulder, your eyes shut and your face peaceful. He smiles and carefully picks you up, wrapped in the blanket and takes you both to bed.

He frowns a bit when you stir as soon as he’s laid next to you, but his frown quickly turns to a soft smile when he realizes you were murmuring about the show in your sleep, quietly chuckling and pulling you into his warm embrace.

♡ If you make your own stories, he’ll have you sit down with him and tell him all about it, no matter how winding and tangential your ideas may be. He may not understand everything you’re talking about but he’ll listen to you chatter on and on about it just to listen to your sweet voice.

♡ Sometimes when you both have the free time, he’ll take you out to the nearest park or beach to have a picnic and watch you sketch or write whatever’s on your mind. Seeing you put your pencil to paper completely mesmerizes him every time.

♡ Price is so damn proud of you all the time and will 100% ask you to make something for him just to bring it to his office on-base. He loves to show off your work and will take every chance to brag about how talented you are.

It was rare for John to bring you with him to base, but the holidays were coming up soon and he thought it would be nice for you to see the rest of his team. It had been about a year or so since you got to see them all, after all. He held your hand as he walked you to his office to stash away your things there, occasionally greeting a familiar face when you passed by.

Once you made it there, he opened the door for you politely and let you set your things down. When you finished putting your bag away in one of his drawers, you came back to follow John back out to the common room to relax, notebook in hand. Before you get to the door, you notice the framed picture on the wall: it was the piece that he’d asked for a month ago. You always wondered what he did with it.

Your cheeks flush and you peek out the door at him with your brows furrowed. “You didn’t tell me you were going to hang that sketch up in your room, John! How many people come in and out of there?” John raises a brow and tilts his head. “Why?”

You groan and run your hands over and hide your face. “I could’ve made it so much better! It was just a sketch!” You squeak. John gives you his signature smile and walks over to pull your hands away, holding them in his. “Darling, your art is gorgeous. Sketch or not.” He kisses your knuckles and chuckles quietly. “To answer your question, though, at least three or four people pass through daily.” He laughs aloud when you groan his name and playfully slap his face away.

♡ But, as much as he adores how dedicated you are to your creations, have no doubts that he will drag you to bed if you end up overworking yourself. If it’s 2 a.m. and you still haven’t put your hands to rest, he won’t stop pestering you until you do and come to bed and let him hold you to his chest and sleep.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #price x reader #captain john price x gn!reader #john price x gn!reader #price mw2 #price modern warfare #price cod #mwii #modern warefare ii #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #storm's creations #sstormyskyess

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yuwumeniji · 1 year

Text

Sick Days w/ Luxiem

Don't come any closer! What if you catch my cold?

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: lmao i've been feeling so lethargic lately,,, inspiration struck..... also not proofread as usual lmao

Let's set the stage!

Established relationships between the reader and the luxiem boys

Overall self-indulgence

the reader is the one sick in this scenario

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

IKE EVELAND

the type of person to nurse you back to health very well, like you'd think he's a nursing student or something like that

ike "i literally can't take care of myself" eveland goes above and beyond when it comes to you

do you want blankets? porridge(or soup, idk your choice)? maybe a little massage? ike will do anything within his power to make sure you are well rested

he also uses the time to spend time by your bed as well - he makes it sound like you're dying and he's spending your remaining hours together in bed (with him on the side)

"y/n, i can't believe you're leaving me so soon *sniffles into a tissue*"

"ike, i literally just have a cold"

"IS THERE ANYTHING YOU NEED DEAR?"

you're also forced to listen to his literary rants like, you're bedridden - the perfect victim proofreader for his manuscripts

there is a 50/50 chance he catches your cold (he also expects to be babied if that is the case)

LUCA KANESHIRO

"BABE ARE YOU DYING ??? *pien*"

"Luca, it's only a cold, i'm fine?"

"BEING SICK UNPOG !!!"

he acts as if it is the end of the world even if you sneeze - how much more if you're sick sick ???

he does baby you a little too much, even if his intentions were pure, he somehow manages to make you feel even more tired with the cold - but it's cute watching him try

he tries to mimic what the mafia members did when he was sick as a child, and he often made phone calls back home to check if he did the right thing; in fact, a lot of the family servants offered to step in for him, but he says that because you're his love, he has to be the one who takes care of you (it brought tears to the kaneshiro servants' eyes)

"ARE YOU COLD?" he doesn't cover you with more blankets, instead, he hugs you - he once heard somewhere that human body warmth is warmer than the thickest, most warmest of blankets and thought that it was true.

he's a little noisy too - you overheard a few pots and pans falling about because he was a bit too frantic in finding the right things

they say idiots can't catch colds and somehow, luca proved it to be right (endearing). however he does get the sniffles

MYSTA RIAS

he's actually an angel, like, sent from the gods and everything

after living alone for quite sometime, mysta is used to being sick on his own, so he uses whatever methods from then for you

because you're sick, his meals actually taste good - and he would melt if you said that

"Are you feeling a little cold? C'mere."

god he knows about the "body warmth" thing too and holy hell is he warm. once his arms were around you, you half expected him to do something pervy, but he didn't. he just hugged you, peacefully. he really wanted to make sure you were warm enough (he also just wanted to use you as a body pillow and fell asleep faster than you did)

you can't tell if it's because you're sick or it's because he's a little more romantic than usual - he's normally on the brash side, but even then, this is quite heart-fluttery

he definitely catches your cold. and complains about it (he wants to be babied by you too)

SHU YAMINO

he relied on wiki-how to learn how to take care of a sick person,,, don't @ me on this one... and then maybe called his mom and asked how to take care of a sick person. even with his knowledge, he can be quite the clumsy person

as a sorcerer, he takes pretty good care of his health - i mean with the profession, there are a lot more life-threatening things than a little cold, so he doesn't experience one quite often

he was half expecting something to appear out of thin air when he heard you sneeze

"Would putting this drink in my chicken mug make you feel better?"

he's so cute trying to run around the house to find things that would soothe the pain without having to use his magic (i mean if he could use his magic, he would)

he calls his mom to ask her what kind of foods to give to a sick person while you were asleep - you best know that his mom later tells you the next time you meet his family

he doesn't catch your cold at all - his health is at tip top shape

VOX AKUMA

"what do you mean i can't touch you :( "

"vox.."

"it's from the show! you know you should trust things from a tv show!"

vox is banned from entering your bed to cuddle with you - he pretends to know about the "body warmth" thing mentioned earlier from movies, but in reality he's just a very touchy-feely demon and can't stay away from you

even so, out of all the members, he knows how to take care of a sick person to the point it makes you wonder if he was a doctor or a nurse during his years wandering earth

food? he's literally a 5 star michelin chef and you could feel your sickness go away with just one bite

need to be cooler? warmer? he's got your back (literally, with a wet towel if need be) ((or a thicker blanket))

bored? he'll tell you a story of his past and even tucks you into bed before starting

he never catches your cold ever - a demon like him could withstand arrows and a measly cold will not take him down (also he becomes the biggest baby who needs to be coddled if he gets sick)

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emzalot · 2 years

Text

Thank You for Your Service

Chapter 1

Author’s Note: This is purely self indulgent. I haven’t written anything in well over a year and I know my writing isn’t the best since I’m out of practice, but this fic still makes me happy. I hope someone appreciates it. I just really think the clone troopers deserve all the love and appreciation the galaxy can offer; especially Captain Rex.

Editing Notice: If you missed my ‘Heads Up!’ post, I am turning Little!Y/n into an OC. From now on Little!Y/n will be known as Makéa Valo. I have edited chapter 1 and chapter 2 because of this. If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to pm me or send me an ask!

Pairings: Captain Rex x OC Warnings: None

Next Chapter

~~🖤~~

It was an exciting morning for the 501st. The local school near the GAR base had invited their students to make a card and prepare a gift for the clone troopers. Each class was assigned a battalion and the children got to choose their trooper they wanted to give back to. All the cards and gifts have just arrived on base and the men are overwhelmed with anticipation.

Captain Rex watches as his brothers CT numbers are called, receiving their packages from the delivery man, and enjoying their smiling faces. Rex couldn’t help the excitement rising in his chest. He patiently waits for his turn to be called up. Rex watches as the cart quickly empties and that’s when he realizes his CT number wasn’t going to be called. He didn’t get a gift.

Rex stood by General Skywalker and Commander Tano outside the ship. They were about to leave for their next mission and were waiting for the last few troopers to board so they could leave. Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing the mission with great anticipation, but Rex wasn’t really listening to them. He lets out a sigh, watching is brothers rush around the main hanger, talking about the gifts they received as they make last minute preparations before boarding.

Rex thought back to this morning, remembering how Fives nearly cried when he read the note attached to his gift. He was given a little action figure for good luck and to keep him safe. Echo sat on his bunk reading his letter over and over, cuddling the big pink stuffed bunny a little girl sent him to help him sleep at night. Hardcase was over the moon about the package full of snacks he was sent.

“Rex?”

The captain snaps to attention, finding Ahsoka eyeing him.

“Yes, sir” he answers.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m perfectly fine, sir,” he reassures her.

Ahsoka frowns a little, but accepts his answer. “Should we get going?”

“Not quite yet!” a familiar voice calls.

The three of them turn and find Senator Amidala approaching with one of her attendee's and a little girl.

Rex frowns, wondering what this was about and why the senator brought a child into the hangar.

“Good morning Senator,” Skywalker greets with a smile. “Come to with us luck on our mission?”

“Not quite,” She smiles at Anakin and continues, “We’re here to see your captain.”

Rex removes his helmet, glancing at Anakin.

“May we have a moment?” Padme asks.

“Of course,” Anakin nods, before ushering Ahsoka onto the ship.

“I apologize for holding you from your duties Captain, but we had to catch you before your battalion departed,” Padme says.

“It’s not a problem, ma’am,” He assures, glancing at the little girl holding onto Padme’s skirt. “What can I do for you?”

“This is Makéa,” Padme rests her hand on the little girl’s shoulder, gently guiding her forward. “She’s part of the class that made gifts for your men and she insisted on giving you your gift in person.”

“My gift?” Rex asks.

“Of course. You didn’t think we’d forget you did you?” Padme says.

Rex blinks at Padme before quickly shifting his gaze to the little girl before him. Rex’s heart tightens in his chest, looking at the adorable blue dress she’s wearing, the blue shoes, and the little blue bows holding her hair out of his face. She’s wearing his battalion’s color. She dressed up just to see him.

“Hi,” She says, smiling sweetly up at him.

Rex couldn’t help mirroring her smile, “Hello Makéa.”

Padme waves over her attendee who hands Makéa the colorful bag.

The bag was half the size of little Makéa. Rex was already overwhelmed by her coming to see him in person, but the size of the gift bag was making him anxious. He kneels down in front of her, setting his helmet on the ground as she sets it down in front of her.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Rex says, glancing up at Padme.

“But I wanted to meet you,” Makéa says.

His heart squeezes in his chest again. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t get over how intentional this little girl is being. Why would she want to meet him? Why didn’t she send her gift in with the other students? He’s just one clone out of thousands. He didn’t deserve this kind of special treatment.

“You’re not going to get in trouble for this are you?” She asks.

“Don’t worry about me,” He says.

“Go on, show the captain what you brought him,” Padme says, encouraging Makéa to proceed.

Makéa smiles brightly and reaches into the gift bag. “I brought you my favorite blanky-” she pulls out a folded white blanket with little teddy bears all over it and hands it to him. “-when you get scared or sad just wrap blanky around you and he’ll make you feel better.’

Rex stares at Makéa with wide eyes as he gently takes the soft blanket. He didn’t know what to say.

“Blanky's special that way, so if you take care of him, he’ll take care of you.”

“Y-yes ma’am,” he manages.

Makéa smiles and reaches back into the bag. She pulls out a small brown box and hands it to him. “I made you a bracelet.”

Rex takes the box, noticing the nervousness in her voice. He opens it, finding a white and blue beaded bracelet and lifts it out of the box. He carefully turns it over in his hands, finding words spelled out with the small beads in Aurebesh. One side of the bracelet read, ‘BE SAFE’ and the opposite side, ‘I LOVE YOU’.

Rex’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Makéa can I ask you why you added ‘I LOVE YOU’?”

“Because I love you,” she says softly.

“Why?” Rex asks without thinking.

“Because! Because- You- You’re out there in space every day fighting scary droids and bad guys to keep me and so many other people safe from all the bad people! I get to go play with friends, and- and have ice cream, and go to school, and go to bed comfy at night and not be scared something’s going to get me because you- you’re out there fighting! You’re a hero and I love you.”

Rex stares at the little girl before him, who’s twisting the bow on the front of her dress. He’s completely mystified. He never would’ve imagined that him and his brothers would come to means something to people. But to be thought of as heroes? He almost doesn’t want to believe her. It’s too much. She gave him such precious gifts; her favorite blanket to keep him steady, and a bracelet she made for him with two heartfelt messages on it. He’s absolutely blown away.

“Do you not like it?” Makéa asks, her voice a nervous little chirp.

Rex reaches forward, gently gripping her shoulder. “This is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, ad’ika.”

Makéa meets his gaze and smiles brightly, “Really?”

Rex smiles back, “Really.”

“Do you think it’ll fit?” she asks.

“Let’s find out.”

Rex slips the bracelet onto his wrist. It sits comfortably between the plastoid armor fitted to the back of his gloved hand and his forearm. He flexes his wrist to make sure it doesn’t pinch between the armor or restrict his movement and surprisingly, it doesn’t.

“It fits perfectly,” he says.

“Will you wear it?”

Rex smiles softly at her, “Always.”

Makéa rushes forward and wraps her arms around the captain’s neck, hugging him tightly. Rex tenses, hesitating as his heart pounds in his chest before wrapping his arms around the little girl. He pulls her small form flush against his armored chest and cradles the back of her head. He’s never felt so appreciated by anyone in his life.

“Thank you for your service Mister Rex,” Makéa whispers and kisses his cheek.

#captain rex #captain rex imagine #captain rex x reader #star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars x reader #rex #rex x reader #501st x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin and ahsoka #ashoka tano #clone trooper

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winchesterandpie · 2 years

Text

QuickCare and Confessions

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 1366

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, for which I will not apologize. Other than that, I can't think of anything

Requested by @katiemcrae

A/N: Enjoy some best friends to lovers! I had a ton of fun writing this. Let's just say, I absolutely love this man! Writing this also helped take my mind off of everything I should have been doing, so I hope you enjoy the fruits of my procrastination lol.

You felt absolutely relieved when Bradley walked into the QuickCare. You hadn’t gotten there long before him, so you were just anxiously filling out the forms they needed in order to see you.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said, offering a half grin to your best friend.

“I was worried something happened.” He definitely looked worried. “You texted me that you were at urgent care, I just needed to make sure you were okay.”

Your grin softened into something more intimate. It was moments like these where you realized over and over again that you were in love with Bradley Bradshaw. He didn’t know that, of course, and you weren’t about to tell him. If you only ever had him as a friend, you would take that and be grateful.

“What happened?”

“Well… I may have tripped on the stairs.” You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, a little embarrassed.

“So… why did you need QuickCare?” he asked, the words drawn out in his confusion.

“Because my ankle kinda went sideways when I fell and now it really hurts.”

There was new concern in his voice, “How the hell did you get here then?”

“It’s just my left ankle. I drive with my right foot, so it’s fine.”

He said your name in pure disbelief. You shrugged, so he said your name again. “You could’ve called me--I’d have driven you here!”

“But you were on base. I figured there was a good chance you were in the air.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said after a long moment, shaking his head.

They called your name then, and Bradley stepped to your injured side without you needing to ask. His arm around your waist supported most of your weight as you made your way to the examination room. He didn’t let go of your hand while they poked, prodded, and turned your ankle.

As you suspected, they diagnosed you with a sprained ankle. Once it was tightly wrapped up, you were given instructions to rest, ice your ankle, and keep it elevated.

Bradley took you home, and you could feel him looking over at you every once in a while during the drive. It wasn’t like you weren’t looking at him. Tonight had you wishing you could reach between the seats and take his hand. You could probably get away with it--he might just ascribe it to the tough afternoon you had. But you couldn’t bring yourself to risk him discovering your feelings, which could in turn jeopardize your friendship.

“Here we are, home sweet home,” he said as he pulled into your driveway. You had only just started to move when he spoke again. “No, you stay put! I’ll be right there.”

“I was just unbuckling the seatbelt,” you argued. You still unbuckled, but you didn’t move to get out while he hopped out and came to your side of the Bronco.

“Alright, come here,” he said as he picked you up, sliding one arm under your knees.

“Hey, I’m perfectly capable of walking,” you protested halfheartedly. It was difficult to be anything less than content in his strong arms.

He laughed, the sound rumbling through you. “I’ve got a doctor who disagrees with you on that one.”

You turned your face into his shoulder as heat crept across your cheeks. “Ok, ok, I’ll give you that one.”

“I thought you would.” He paused at the door while you fumbled for your keys. “I’ll get your car tomorrow, okay?”

“That’s way out of your way!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? You’ve already done so much for me.”

Bradley held you so you could unlock the door, then nudged it closed behind the two of you. “I promise I don’t mind.”

You acquiesced with a quiet hum as he set you down on the couch. “I really appreciate you.” That was close enough to telling him you loved him without ruining your friendship, right? “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” he said, too softly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I…” you stopped to chuckle at yourself with just a hint of embarrassment, “I was coming down the stairs to get dinner. The whole ankle thing kinda got in the way.”

“Fair enough. Pizza sound good?” He was already pulling out his phone to place an order, but you nodded nonetheless, smiling to yourself. “You’ve got an ice pack, right?”

“Yeah, they should be in the door of the freezer.” You started to offer to get it yourself, but he disappeared into the kitchen before you could blink. It sounded so strange and yet so… normal to hear him moving around in your space. Something about it just felt so comforting.

When Bradley returned, he set the ice pack and the dish towel on the coffee table. He lifted your legs up onto the opposite couch arm and held the ice pack to your ankle. His fingers brushed the skin of your leg just above the wrap, trailing fire with his touch.

“Think that’ll stay put?” he asked, somewhat rhetorically. It had frozen in a shape that made it pretty stable sitting against your ankle.

Confident in that, he came over to the cushion that was now behind you and sat down. To have your ankle up on the other arm of the couch, you had to sit just far enough from the nearer one that your muscles had to work to keep you sitting up, but there was enough space for him to sit.

“C’mon, lean back for me, sweetheart,” Bradley encouraged. The nickname made you melt easily back into him. You wished he would mean it romantically.

You shifted a little, finding a comfortable position. His arm went around you when you settled. It would have made alarm bells go off in your head except that you were just so warm leaning into him. He felt like home.

“Say that again?” he asked, and you realized you had voiced that last thought out loud. You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, a little terrified of what you would find there. Instead of anything scary, you found something akin to hope and that gave you enough courage to speak.

“You feel like home to me,” you said, more certain this time.

Bradley’s lips pulled into a smile and you wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him. “You’re home to me too.” When his hand lifted to trace down the side of your face, you finally started to think that maybe he felt the same. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, turning it around on him, though internally you were downright giddy.

“I suppose we both could have spoken up.”

“I was scared I’d mess us up,” you confessed, though it felt a little silly now.

He confided his own secret, “Me too.” You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m really glad you came.”

“I’ll always come when you need me.”

You turned your head still closer. “What if I just want you here? Instead of needing, I mean.”

“Even better,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “If this weren’t the most incredibly awkward angle, I would kiss you right now.”

You could have sworn he was glowing brighter than the sun when you laughed. He laughed too, dropping his hand from your face in favor of wrapping his arm around you. You’d never thought you would be grateful for a sprained ankle, but here you were. When you told him as much through gasps of giggles, he just laughed harder.

“Next time you want me to know something like that, you could try just, y’know, telling me?” Bradley’s arm squeezed around you affectionately. “No need for you to get injured, sweetheart.”

“Drat, there go my plans,” you groaned in mock annoyance.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he offered playfully.

You pretended to think about it. “I suppose I can agree to that.”

Falling in love with your best friend was the best thing you’d ever done, second only to spraining your ankle.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster #best friends to lovers #top gun #top gun maverick

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autistic-dream · 2 years

Text

Sick Day The Corinthian x NB! Reader

Fandom: The Sandmand

Plot: Reader wakes up sick with a cold. The Corinthian does is best to help reader feel better. Unsure of how to help, he sneaks back into the Dreaming to ask Lucienne for help.

Warnings: Reader uses they/them; Reader is Chronically ill; medial trauma?

N/A: I based Reader's chronic illness off of my own. This is just pure fluff and self indulgence. Enjoy :)

≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫

It feels nice in bed, warm and safe.

You feel particularly safe in Corinthian's arms. You know he doesn't sleep. He doesn't need to sleep. But he will still lay with you in bed. Holding you closely. If you could remain here forever you would.

You don't want to move. But the wave of nause that hits you forces you out of bed. Rushing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Throwing up in the mornings sucks. There is no food in your stomach so it's just a bunch of bile that comes up. You catch your breath finally. Resting your head on the edge of the seat.

There is a soft knock at the door. The only downside to dating a supernatural entity that didn't sleep was that he knew when you were in here.

"Y/N? I brought you some water. Can I come in?"

"Sure if you want to see this hot mess." you laugh, if you don't you think you might cry. And crying never made this better. The door opens. You look over to see the Corinthian walk in. He kneels down beside you handing you the open water bottle. You take it drinking it. The water feels nice, washing the bad taste in your mouth. He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"No, I am fine."

"You don't look fine." he says. "You look like Death on a bad day."

You laugh. "Just need more sleep..." you rest your head against the toilet again. The room is spinning, and the light is way to bright. "I am just going to stay here."

"Let me carry you." he says, scooping you up in his arms. He lays you back in bed. And you bury yourself in the covers. This is the worst he has seen you. "I am going to take your temperature," he says.

"I am fine."

"You are burning up." he says. "And you are really in no position to argue."

"I just want to cuddle."

"And I want you to feel better."

"Cuddles will make me feel better."

"After I take your temperature"

"fine," you complain, letting him take your temperature. He slips back into bed with you. Holding you close to his chest. The Corinthian waits till you fall asleep before he enters the dreaming.

He needs help and he only knows one person who can help him. The only person in the dreaming who would be willing to help him. ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫

Lucienne is surprised to see the Corinthian here in her library. Something is off about him. He doesn't seem his usual smug self.

"If Lord Morpheus catches you here..."

"I need your help" he says.

"What?"

"Your help. I need your help." he repeats.

"My help?"

"My partner is sick."

"Your partner?" she raises a brow.

"Yes...y/n call's me their boyfriend." he explains.

Lucienne nods. "I am just surprised that you have a significant other."

"Can you help me?"

"What are you looking for?"

"stuff that helps humans feel better when they are sick." he says. "I am worried that its worse than they are letting on."

"They could be sick with anything." she hands him a book. "This is the basics. On what to do to help someone feel better." he skims the book. "Do they know about you?"

"Yes." he says. "It's kind of hard to hid it when you are dating someone as observant as y/n." he chuckles. Nothing could get past you.

"They write lovely poetry." Lucienne smiles. Like she knows something he doesn't. You never let him read any of your poetry.

"Thank you." he says holding the book up.

"You better go before Morpheus catches you."

"I think I would take him over the look on y/n's face if they wake up without me there." he says. Now that he knows what he needs he returns to the waking world getting some things together.

≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ≪•◦ ❈ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫ ❈ ◦•≫

You wake up from the weirdest dream you have had to rival any of the fever dreams you have had before. The Corinthian walks into the room he has a little TV tray with a bowl of soup and what looks like grilled cheese?

"what's this?" you asked.

"I did some reading. One what to make your partner when they are sick." he says. "I also went out you some medication." he smiles. You sit up letting him set the tray on the bed. He climbs in next to you. "We can watch those movies you said you wanted to show me."

"Princess Bride?" you asked.

"If that's what you wanna watch. We can watch it." You nod in response.

"This is really sweet." you smile kissing his cheek, snuggling close to him as he turns the TV on pulling the movie up. You slowly eat your soup. It's really good. For a nightmare he is a surprisingly good cook.

After you finish eating you find yourself falling asleep again. Normally when you get sick you find sleep difficult. But now that he is here you find it much more easier to sleep. Snuggled up close in his arms. It's the best feeling in the world.

#the sandman #netflix sandman #sandman x reader #corinthian x reader #the corinthian #nonbinary pride #angst #fluff #chronic illness

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nootqueen404 · 2 years

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Eddie Munson HC: Having a Chronically Ill Partner

Yes this is purely self-indulgent, leave me be okay?! Bare in mind that much of this is based on my own experience as someone with multiple chronic illnesses. I have Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Chronic Anemia, Small Fiber Neuropathy, and Pre-Load Failure.

Even though you knew Eddie was the non-judgmental type, you were still scares to tell him about being disabled. Obviously he wasn't phased.

But on the inside all he can think about is “what can I do? What can I do to help y/n? How can I make their life easier? How can I let them know how much I love them?”

Eddie is best friends with Dustin, so he has a little experience with medical stuff. Part of the reason they are friends is because Jason Carver tripped the freshman on his first day and Eddie seriously though Dustin broke something. Eddie wound up in detention for fighting, but he still snuck out to check on Dustin and leaned about his CCD. The rest is history.

But yeah, Eddie tried to ask Dustin for advice. Dustin just acts like a smart ass and roasts him for assuming he knows anything because you and him are disabled and "must know each other." Eddie panicked and apologized profusely (we know how much he HATES confrontation,) but after he realized they Dustin was fucking with him Ed gives him a massive wedgie.

The internet didn't exist yet, so research is hard to come by. So Eddie does the next best thing - ask his Uncle Wayne for advice (he just reminds his nephew that the library is a thing.)

He probably asks Nancy too because "Hey she's pretty smart." She does help a lot actually, mostly by being the voice of reason and encouraging Eddie to learn from you.

Eddie asks A LOT of questions at first, enough to where he learns about one of the most common symptoms - brainfog and cognitive fatigue. Now he just asks the doctors you see.

Speaking of doctors he acts as your personal chauffeur to all of your appointments, even if you have a drivers license and a car. He knows you're more than capable of driving yourself, he just doesn't want you to put more stress on your body then you need to.

He's also not afraid to speak up on your behalf if a doctor or nurse tries to gaslight you. He remembers early on in your relationship of you coming home an appointment, just sobbing your eyes out about "no one believing you." That lit a fire under his ass.

He's threaten to throw hands with said doctors. But most of the time he just passive aggressive.

You've tried to explain Spoon Theory to him ("Why the fuck is it spoons?!?") So he changed it to a Health Bar, Hit Points, and Mana because he's a giant fucking nerd like that. Honestly it made more sense to both of you.

He's a lot more cautious now when it comes to his dealing, either cutting back on making deals to keep both of you safe, or triple checking the quality of his product. If what he deals could help someone, someone like you, then he knows it needs to be perfect.

When you tell him that some of the stuff he sells can help with your symptoms he makes sure he keeps the really good stuff in a safe place for you. Only the best weed for his baby.

Eddie stocks his kitchen with all of your favorite snacks and drinks, much to the annoyance of his uncle. Wayne bought him a mini fridge just so Eddie wouldn't overstock the main one with nothing but Gatorade.

Eddie is always worried if you're too hot/cold (In my personal case I'm always cold).

Too hot during those grueling summers in Hawkins? BOOM! Kiddie pool! BOOM! Pedialyte popsicles! BOOM! Umbrella!

Too cold? He keeps a bunch of regular and electric blankets in his closet.

You almost never use them because Eddie is a human space heater.

He keeps extra clothes and extra bottles of your meds for you if you don't have the Spoons/HP to drive home.

Could he drive you home? Yeah, but taking care of others is his love language.

You've made fun of him for this, but he keeps a mini cooler in his van filled with water and Gatorade because "you never know."

The pharmacists use to hate Eddie (cuz ya know) and were a little afraid of him with all of the rumors going. But after you two start dating they LOVE him! Whenever either of you need to get medical supplies the old ladies gush about how sweet Eddie is and the old guys try to hire him because he "knows so much" about different prescription medication.

They also give you and Eddie deals on supplies because they know you're both struggling financially.

After a while Wayne let's you sit in his recliner to help with your circulation.

Speaking of which, Wayne also loves you! He's skeptical at first, but all of that goes away after he sees how happy you make Eddie. Plus, he loves that Eddie is now using his dealer status to help people.

Eddie broke his own personal rule: the only people allowed to sit in his throne at Hellfire Club is him...and now you. The others did complain a little, but after Eddie explained your situation they backed down. When you need to shit you’re going to go sit wherever you can.

For your One Year anniversary Eddie gives you your own throne. The other members helped brainstorm and decorate it.

When you start needing a ramp Eddie enlists the help of all of your friends to help build it all. Everyone got a kick out of painting the ramp, but it caused a lot of in-fighting over how it would look. This is another way you bond with Eddie’s Uncle.

Eddie and the others helped you raise money for a motorized wheelchair and/or service animal by doing car washes and Corroded Coffin doing charity gigs.

You thought the crew fighting over the ramp was bad, wait until they get the idea to customize your mobility aid!

Team Eddie's Hot rod flames and skulls vs. Team Erica's Glitter and rainbow stickers.

Whenever you go to concerts with Eddie he makes sure you can have somewhere to sit away from the pit.

If its one of his shows he has you seated right off stage and with one of your friends - usually Steve and Robin. The best seat in the house!

Eddie LOVES bridal carrying you everywhere (Even though it isn't always needed.)

And giving you baths! Some times he’ll even join you! He will sit behind you and wash your hair while you cuddle up against his chest. One word: HEAVEN!

Not a day goes by where Eddie doesn't tell you he loves you for who you are - in sickness and in health.

(NSFW)

Eddie is super cautious during sex now after you passed out one time (I had this happen to be irl. It terrified my boyfriend, but I thought it was hilarious!)

You use the Stop Light Method to check in on each other. Green = keep going, Yellow = slow down, Red = Stop

"Who needs lingerie when you have compression socks?" is a running gag for you two.

Repeats after Eddie: “Hydrate or die-drate!”

Aftercare gets an upgrade in the form of baths together, “post-coitus” salty snacks, and snuggling while watching TV.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #head canon #eddie munson headcanons #chronic illness #chronically ill #POTS #ehlers danlos syndrome

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firefly--bright · 1 year

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No Big Deal (i love you)

jean kirstein x gender neutral!reader.

inspired by this song by Dodie :)

warnings : none tbh, just pure fluff and maybe a little too wordy. oh and mentions of religion. read author's note for specifics!!!!

a/n : this is a super duper self indulgent fic. uhh i was feeling kinda off and i wanted to write something for myself and something that would make me feel comfortable. i also got accepted into a French based college so,,,, inspired by that, too, I guess? but anyway, this IS very self indulgent, as said before, so read at your own risk cause some of the things might not be understood or like. they might not be your thoughts(?) usually i try to be more reader inclusive since yk everyone comes from different backgrounds, but i was really proud of the writing here so I decided to post it :) you don't have to enjoy it (!) it's just a ramble of thoughts, really. anyways have fun <3

tagging : @a10vely-yutazen taglist is open! send me an ask if you want to be added or removed OR fill the google form linked below :)

✿ masterlist can be found in pinned navigation ✿ requests are open! ✿ enter my taglist ✿

Jean’s love doesn’t feel new. His love feels more like something you’d already lived in before, something that was yours before you even claimed it to be.

And maybe it was. He had offered to sit and sketch with you in the park near your university, bringing you a warm coffee and holding you sketching materials for you before you could have a chance to complain. His free hand took a hold of yours as if it was meant to. And out of all things, you noticed his hand every time you weren’t holding it. His left hand would be free, dangling at his side, his fingers flexing and unwinding until they found yours, until you let them find your right hand to slip in, fitting in beautifully. The ridges in your hands were meant for his calloused ones, you think, and you keep thinking that maybe the slots in your hands, the folds that claimed to hold your future fit perfectly against his. Maybe it was overthinking, maybe it was wishful and stupid, but you wanted a future in his hands. If he sculpted as well as he drew, you’d let him sculpt the rest of your life just so it could have a part of him, just so he could imprint his fingerprints meticulously into the shape of your future. Your shared future, you hoped.

He's sitting beside you and you’re aware of your shoulder brushing his on the small Parisian bench, watching the people walk their dogs, listen to music, talk on the phone, hold hands, share an ice cream. You wonder if they’ve felt love like this, you wonder if they’ve tasted the same taste you have when you love him, the metallic taste of your own pumping heart and the sweet citrussy taste of the oranges he peeled for you the other day. you wonder if they smelled it too, his cologne, but then again, you’re glad they didn’t because if depriving everyone else of the love you had for him and vice versa meant that you could have it all for yourself, then you would. You would sit in this park bench forever, tasting your love, the one you stored for him, smelling his love for you, watching as his left hand danced gracefully on his sketchbook as if it had to show an audience. You don’t dare take a peek in his sketchbook – you don’t want to disturb his craft until he asks you to. Until he lets you.

He licks his lips, cold against the rainy weather. The wind is picking up a bit, you note, glad you were carrying your umbrella even if it would be futile to run home in this weather. You had come across this experience countless times since moving here – the rain starting as expected, as unexpectedly, as beratingly, and the cold pelts of the water hit you with sudden realisation that the wind was too strong against your umbrella as you abandoned it when jean took a hold of your hand, drifting to the nearest indoor establishment. His hair would be damp by the time you’d reach, and it would have made no difference to keep walking towards your home, but the quiet of the new store was welcome, as was the warmth. you’d pant, hands on your knees, and jean would run a hand through his hair, removing his scarf and handing it over to you with a small smirk.

You would take the scarf home every time.

You took a sip of your coffee, relishing it’s warmth between your hands. The heat was welcome on your cool digits. Uneven blood circulation and all that, sure, but also an excuse for him to hold your hand and stuff his and yours into the pocket of his trench coat that was almost always filled with lint, and some days, an unused napkin or a tissue he stole from your earlier café date.

Jean’s love is present. Yours hopes to be, pleads to be, desperately begs to cling on to being enough and whole and constant. You hope it is. Maybe you should ask him, you think, but all you manage is to lean your head on his shoulder and let your body do the talking your lips so stubbornly don’t. you shift closer to him, Paris is the city of love after all, and you hoped no one would bat an eye to you. not that you’d care if they did. he was yours to show to the whole world, and you were sure that he’d let you string him along to introduce him to god if you ever left Jean's side and if you ever made it do the gates of heaven, introduce god to him, abandoning the principles that shaped you, the religion that you were born from, just to smile and tilt your head and show him off.

“jean.” You called out to him.

“yes, love?” he answers with a question, glancing to his left, seeing your head on his shoulder and the way your chest moved with each breath. He waits until you answer his answer.

“you’re really pretty.” You say finally, and you swear this is the only time your mouth has worked to show your affection so openly and genuinely. Sure, you’ve called him pretty before, as he donned on his dark blue suit, buttoning the cuff of his shirt, or even while he sipped the tea you made him in the morning, sitting on the marble kitchen counter without a shirt because he ran hot ("in always hot, babe" he says). But you hoped this time he’d pick up in the massive gaps your dialogue left from your thoughts, you hoped he’d see what you’re really trying to say.

“youre beautiful, actually.” You clarify. You hope he sees through it.

Jean doesn’t say anything for a moment. For a moment, its silence, only the sound of whirring wind and leaves moving with said wind. So you speak again, like you have an audience, like you have a spectator, like this is the only thing that’s worth saying. You’re pretty sure it is.

“like… it’s more than being beautiful. I think…. I mean, ive been thinking, that you’re more than what you think you are. I know I’m probably not making any sense but… it’s unsaid, you know? How much I actually love you. like you say it a lot, and you mean it, and I say it a lot too, and I mean it but theres just so much more to it than I tell you. its not even anything like that phrase 'if you asked me to, I would,' which I would. I’d do everything you asked me to. But its also more like… I know you wont ask me anything. I know I am enough. Like…for the first time, jean, you make me feel like I’m enough. You make me feel comfortable….no, wait. You make me feel… you make me feel like I’m living inside a star. not as hot or big or threatening as the sun, not so cold and lonely and far away as the moon but just enough, like the stars, like…. Like it’s just us, you know? and you don’t have to even say anything for me to feel the love you have for me, like, I don’t doubt you or your love or my love for you which is rare, and admitting it sounds too big and scary, but….yeah. I love you in every sense of the word. Im sorry if I cant say it or if it doesn’t…sound the way it should from my mouth, but I hope you see it, yeah? Like, the unsaid things we do for each other, I hope you know I notice and I hope you know I do them too.” you say. you kept saying until he could stop you, which to your surprise, he didn’t.

He was still silent. You didn’t pick your head up from his shoulder, preferring his warmth to your own. You cleared your throat. “um… yeah. that’s all. You’re beautiful and I love you. a lot. I hope you know that, even if I cant tell it to you all the time. I draw you and write about you and to you, not as proof but because if I say it out loud I don’t know how much of it I’ll say or if it’ll even be understood and....I’m still talking. Shit. Sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry for loving you or saying this. Yeah.” you complete. Your arm had slipped through the gap of his, and his pencil has stopped sketching the moment you started speaking, hovering on the paper without the purpose jean gave it.

He still hasn’t said anything.

You finally look at him with your head still resting on his shoulder. The sky is cloudy and the sun will set in about an hour, but that doesn’t stop the rays to peak through the fog and coat the back of his head entirely. But that’s not what takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s looking at you.

Jean’s eyes have always spoken more than his tongue had, like your hands have talked for you, through you. one look at his eyes and you’d find everything he was thinking about, all of the present emotions in his boundless heart. His eyes were a reflection to his art, to his soul and his mind. Honeyed with specks of darker browns and greens scattered across, the colours being art itself. Better than you could ever try to recreate through your hands, better than the first time he’d shown you around Paris, his hometown.

And he’s looking at you now like youre the piece of art. Not in the way he’d sceptically look at art in the museums and exhibitions, but in a way where you were the only piece of art that he found meaning in, without even having to search for it. In a way that you were the only art that he kept coming back to and in a way where you were the only thing in the gallery that was his most favourite. His heart was also racing, his chest achingly close to yours. his brows were pinched together, almost touching and his nose was scrunched up like he was about to cry, and you were sure he was, noticing how glossy his eyes had gotten. And his lips were the best part.

A small smile. You remembered one time he had complained about his lips, claiming they were the least favourite part of his face, saying they were too thin, but you shut him up quickly enough with a kiss. Maybe more. And he was smiling now. With the same lips that had touched almost every part of you. his eyes spoke their own words and his lips breathed life into them, making something meaningful.

And for you. specifically for you.

His right hand cups your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I know. I see it. I feel it, which is the best part.” He says, laughing at the end. You smile at the sound, liking the way it makes him move his shoulders and chest. “I never doubted your love. I know you don’t doubt mine. I wish I could say things as beautifully as you write, but I’m not that poetic. All I can say is I love you.” he says.

And you feel it. You see it. You know it. He’s speaking in a language only you two understand now, and its not the language of love as a universal concept, but the language of your love, of the one you have reserved only and only for eachother and no one else. like the trees speak the language of the earth, like the birds sing in the language of the sky and like the fish silently swim in the language of the ocean, its you and its him and its your own words.

Your own love, the one you made yourself for so many years, the one you proudly presented to him, and his own love, the one he crafted and perfected for so many years, proudly presented to you.

And you’re smiling the smile that only he sees, his heart is beating the way only yours hears.

Jean’s love, you realise, is as lived in and comfortable as the scarf wrapped around your neck.

And your love, he realises, is quiet, but demands to be acknowledged.

Your love, jean realises, is his.

✿

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x you #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein

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