#i was almost having a breakdown on the way home from a nightly walk

[sweetcyberangel]

Inhale, Exhale

Stoner!Ellie Williams x Reader Synopsis: It's your first time smoking, luckily you have a super hot stoner girlfriend to guide you tags/Warnings: Established relationship, modern/college au, weed usage, Dom!Ellie (casually), might be slightly inaccurate, oopsies

The week had been brutal, a relentless onslaught of exams and assessments left you mere moments away from a breakdown. Each word you read is in one ear, out the other. Entirely incomprehensible. Your head hurts, your eyes hurt and your motivation is dwindling. Ah, the joys of college…

A knock on your dorm room door jolts you out of the complete disarray inside your head, which would've been a relief if the sound didn't reverberate around your skull. Okay, maybe it was time for a break.

You stand on legs that are weak from hours of sitting idly at your cramped desk. Reaching for the door handle, you swear you could almost start crying at the sight of your girlfriend. How did you get so lucky.

“I texted earlier to let you know I was coming but you never replied…” She starts as she squeezes past you, walking into your dorm room as if it was her second home (which - to be fair - it absolutely is). Her eyes scan the textbooks scattered on your desk as you sit on the edge of your bed. “"You okay?" she inquires softly at your silence, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. With a weary groan, you slump back onto your bed,  “I never want to look at another textbook again”. Ellie chuckles affectionately, sitting next to you on the bed. 

“How about you go shower and get comfy for me angel, I’ll pack all this shit up and we can just relax for a bit. You look all tense" "But ellie my exa-" "Your exams will go great. Just for tonight, kay? Even just for a few hours” Her tone is firm and reassuring. You sigh with contemplation. I mean, she’s right. Your body is tense, your head is pounding, and you feel as if any more information might just cause your brain to shut down entirely.  So you nod, pick out some pyjamas and make your way to the bathrooms. The idea of a warm shower, fresh clothes and the comfort of your nightly skincare routine is already easing all the built up pressure.

—------------------------------------

When you return to your dorm room feeling clean (and like you can actually think again) Ellie is sitting on your bed, textbooks packed away, her music playing softly from your speaker and a rolled blunt sitting between her fingers. She smiles at you softly when you step inside, patting the bed next to her “c’mere”. 

You settle beside her, then flop over into her lap, head resting on her thighs. You turn over to look up at her, admiring the way she tilts her head back to exhale the earthy smoke away from you. She looks ethereal. 

“Mmm… Ellie?” 

“Yeah, baby?” she responds, her tone gentle and attentive.

“Do you think I could… try?” you ask tentatively, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling inside you.

She seems momentarily surprised, before a soft laugh escapes her lips. “This?” she clarifies, holding the blunt out to you. You nod your head timidly. She knows you've never smoked before, it’s not that you think it's bad or are uncomfortable by it, you’ve just always been a little nervous about it. 

Her auburn hair falls in front of her face as she looks down at you, hand caressing the supple skin of your cheeks, “Alright, sit up f’ me baby” 

You sit on your knees, legs tucked neatly beneath you, watching as she takes another hit of the joint before moving all of her attention to you.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?” She checks, “Yeah, ‘m sure,” you reassure with a soft smile. You’d mentioned wanting to smoke with Ellie for a while now, and now is a better time than any, right? 

“Open,” She taps your lips softly with her thumb and you part them as she places the edge of the blunt between them, “breathe in nice and slowly for me, bring the smoke into your mouth”. You take a steady breath in. You wonder if it's the first time you've taken a proper moment to breathe all day. It is. The warm smoke fills your mouth, swirling around your senses, and you hold it there for a beat before Ellie directs you again. “Good, breathe it into your lungs ‘nd then breathe it out, nice and slow”. 

The smoke fills your lungs and for a moment you think you are going to cough, but manage to slowly breathe it out, watching as the smoke swirls around your small dorm room. You look back over at Ellie to see her watching you, eyes starting to glaze over and all filled with endearment. 

She brings the blunt back to her own lips, inhaling deeply before her hand gently grasps your jaw. Instinctively, you part your lips, anticipation tingling through you as she exhales the smoke between you. "Breathe in," she softly commands, her lips hovering close to yours, her touch sending shivers down your spine. As her lips meet yours, she places gentle hands on the sides of your face. You can feel yourself relaxing, body easing up and thoughts becoming quieter, more gentle, more sluggish. You let her take the lead, it's soft and intimate.  

As she pulls away, she shifts to lay on her back against your soft comforter, her arms opening invitingly to you. You crawl over, resting your head against her chest, finding solace in the tired ache permeating your bones.  Ellie offers you another puff of the blunt and you gladly take it, letting the comforting scent soothe your exhausted mind. Ellie takes a last hit before ashing it out, rubbing your back with one arm while the other rests beneath her head. 

“Get some sleep, okay?” she hums softly. Between your dazed mind, the gentle rhythm of your girlfriend's hands running up and down your spine, and the combined scent of her and the pot enveloping your senses, you don’t think you'd be able to stay awake even if you tried.

#ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader

[mystery-fic-anon]

Putting the pieces back together

Summary: After a brutal genocide run, Edge has to pick up the pieces of his boyfriend.

Warning: The major character death tagged is UT Papyrus, which happens offscreen, but is an important part of the fic. Read at your own risk.

Other content warnings: death, breakdowns, heavy angst, Edge using underfell PTSD tricks to help Sans, somewhat graphic discussion of wounds

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40540806

This was a gift for @yastaghr, I hope you like it! :)

One of his traps on the back door was out of place. It was very slight, but definitely off. The spiked bar was a few centimetres to the left, as if someone had opened the door and then pulled it back into place, so it was ready to crush whoever tried to open it next. To anyone who wasn’t as intimately familiar with the traps as Edge, it would have passed unnoticed.

Edge noticed, though. He stopped as soon as he saw it, his fingertips crackling with magic. Red was at Grillby’s; Edge had seen him as he’d gone past. If Red had teleported home after Edge had seen him—which was already highly unlikely—then there was no fucking way he would appear outside of the back door when he could go directly into their living room.

Edge looked around, all of his senses on high alert as he scanned the area. Nothing else was out of place, and any traces of footprints in the yard must have already been covered by the rapidly-falling snow. He glanced at his house, remembering all of the bone attacks and confiscated weapons he had strategically hidden. Well, he wasn’t going to sit outside of his own home like a fool. The only way to go was directly forward, into whatever potential ambush awaited him.

It had been a long day, but Edge always had enough magic left for a fight. It was a lesson Red had drilled painfully into him, but one Edge was grateful for. After all, his brother’s paranoia was useful for staying alive in a world that wanted you dead so they could rifle through your dust in search of anything valuable.

Besides, his own nightly routine of circling the perimeter of the house before going inside the front door had finally paid off. Whoever is inside his home has lost the advantage of a surprise attack, which was about the only advantage they would get when facing him.

Edge stepped onto the porch, avoiding the creaky boards as he stepped up. The traps stood still, and he quickly pulled out his key. He held one bone attack in his hand and kept several others summoned around him as he finally opened the back door.

There, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, was a pair of pink slippers.

Edge sighed loudly, quickly stepping inside and dismissing the attacks. He closed his door and checked that each of the four locks were secure, the chains rattling loudly.

He turned, but no one was there. Odd. Sans usually appeared by his side the moment he knew Edge was home, especially when they hadn’t seen each other in a few days. It was an endearing habit, even if Edge had almost dusted Sans the first time he’d popped up behind him.

“Sans?” Edge called out, walking from the kitchen into the hallway.

His jaw shut so hard it clicked as he saw it. There was marrow on the floor. It was only a few drops, but they were smeared and leading in a distinct direction.

“SANS!” Edge practically threw himself into the living room, back on high alert. His magic crackled in the air around him as he looked for his partner.

A whimper came from the couch, and Edge felt his soul drop as he finally saw Sans. Sans was curled up as much as possible, and his blue hoodie had a distinct patch of grey on one of the sleeves. He was holding something to his chest, and judging by the way he hissed, he was wounded.

“Oh, Sans. It’s alright. I’m here.” Edge came closer to the couch and dropped down to one knee, straining his neck as he tried to catch his partner’s eyelights.

Before they had begun properly seeing each other, Sans had insisted on explaining the resets to Edge. Edge didn’t have the same grasp on scientific matters that Sans and Red did, but he understood the basic premise: a human was coming into Sans’ world, and somehow they had the power to kill everyone and then warp reality so it had never happened. Edge had no idea why it didn’t seem to affect his universe at all, considering how closely they were linked otherwise, but he was grateful for it. After all, it meant that he had a chance of coming into Sans’ universe at the opportune time and ending that monster’s reign of terror.

He had been too late this time, though. Sans had gone through another genocide run, and Edge had been unable to stop it. All he could do now was heal Sans and pick up the pieces, like he had each time before.

Sans flinched as he saw Edge, then made another small hiss of pain. His usual poker face had been shattered, and the guilt and heartbreak that took its place were almost too much to bear. Edge reached out slowly, making sure Sans knew what he was going to do. He gently ran his fingertips over the top of Sans’ head, then pressed his hand gently against Sans’ skull.

Sans pulled away from Edge, burying his face in his knees. “Don’t—I couldn’t—I couldn’t fucking do it.” He sobbed, wringing his hands together.

Edge realised why the red cloth in Sans’ hand looked so familiar, and a shudder ran down his spine. He knew that this had happened before, but it was the first time Sans had brought something back. Edge felt a bit nauseous, but he did his best to push it aside. Sans had come to him after these “runs” for support a few times now. Edge might not be able to provide all of the emotional softness that he needed, but he knew how to heal his wounds.

He checked Sans’ HP, and he clenched his teeth. Sans was only at 0.38, and as Edge watched, it slowly ticked down to 0.37. The human must have just grazed him, but he was dying all the same, and Edge wasn’t going to let that happen today.

Edge touched Sans’ skull again, gently petting it. “Don’t think about that. It’s over, it’s over now. Come on, let’s get you some food.”

He picked Sans up, holding him in his arms without hesitation. Sans pressed into Edge’s armour in a way that must have been painful for him, but he didn’t say anything. His hands stayed where they were, holding his brother’s scarf. Edge squeezed Sans tighter in order to compensate, carrying him back to the kitchen.

Edge always kept leftovers from the previous night’s meal. With how often he and Red came home injured, it was convenient to have something that could heal quickly. His food might not be the tastiest, especially when supplies were low, but he packed as much magic into it as he could.

He doubted Sans could eat much, but Edge still warmed up a full plate of lasagne. Thankfully, Sans was able to sit upright by himself. He was slumped back in the chair, but at this point, Edge needed to focus on the small victories. He might not put on a happy face like Papyrus, but he knew that giving in to despair would only worsen Sans’ mental state.

Sans looked between the plate and his hands. Edge stared at him, and it took longer than it probably should have for him to understand the issue. Sans couldn’t eat and properly hold his brother’s scarf at the same time. Edge sat down in the chair next to Sans and picked up his silverware.

“You aren’t getting out of this so easily.” Edge cut off a chunk of lasagne and stabbed it aggressively with the fork, then held it up to Sans’ teeth. “Go on, eat it. Even if it’s only a few bites, I’m getting some food in you and you’re going to heal up.”

Luckily, Sans wasn’t stubborn enough to fight Edge now. Sans opened his mouth meekly, and Edge carefully put the fork inside. Sans’ teeth clicked against it, and Edge carefully watched him chew.

The two of them stayed silent. Edge simply cut Sans another piece of lasagne when he was done with the first one, and then another.

When Sans coughed, Edge got him a glass of water. He kept his head turned towards Sans as he filled the glass up in the sink, not wanting to look away for even a moment. He had seen many monsters in grief before, and he knew that some of them were unstable. Sans hadn’t tried anything like that before, but Edge wasn’t going to discount the possibility. When Sans was in his universe, it was his job to keep him safe, especially at a time like this.

Once Sans had finished almost half of the plate, Edge checked him again. He was back at 0.58HP. It wasn’t good, but it was good enough for now. The healing magic would be less effective if Sans got sick later, so it was better to stop and feed Sans again later.

He petted Sans’ skull as he got up from the table again. Sans leaned into it more than Edge had expected, and Sans almost ended up tumbling onto the floor. Edge quickly caught him, the plate of lasagne thumping back down on the table. Edge took Sans into one arm again, and put the plate in the fridge for later.

Sans didn’t say anything as Edge carried him to the bathroom. He shifted a bit in Edge’s grip, tucking himself further under Edge’s arm. Edge brushed his free hand along Sans’ coronal suture.

After a brief stop at the linen closet for one of their “dust towels,” as Red had dubbed them, Edge took Sans to the bathroom. The healing would help, but for monsters with low HP, it was better to clean wounds as well. Once the debris was clear, Sans’ magic would have an easier time repairing his bones.

Edge remembered the first time he’d touched Sans’ ribcage. Even if it had been over the shirt, Sans had violently recoiled. Edge wasn’t surprised to find a scar; Sans’ underground was less openly violent, but that wasn’t the same as being safe. Sans had been lucky to survive, and Edge had told him as much. Sans had given him one of his hollow smiles, and Edge had quickly moved on.

Unfortunately, Sans’ scar was now an open wound, and Edge needed to take care of it.

“Let’s get this off,” Edge said, lightly tugging at one shoulder of Sans’ sweater.

Sans reluctantly sat up, hissing softly as the hoodie clung to his front. There wasn’t much marrow dripping out, but what was there had already dried. Sans lowered his hands down, letting Edge take care of him. That was good. It was always a pain to tend to Red’s injuries, since he fought against Edge every step of the way.

Edge tried his best to be gentle, but he had to use some force to pry Sans’ hoodie and undershirt off of his chest. Edge pulled both of them off of Sans at the same time. He blindly reached for the sink and fumbled with the taps, quickly turning on the cold water. Edge put Sans’ clothes into the sink to soak the marrow off, then turned back to Sans.

Sans needed to hold one of Edge’s hands to stand up, and he kept Papyrus’ scarf balled tightly in the other. It was awkward for Edge to get down to Sans’ level, but he still knelt and carefully pulled Sans’ shorts down. Edge helped Sans out of everything, leaving his clothes lying on the floor. He would put them in the washing machine as soon as possible, but he needed to take care of Sans first. Even if keeping the house clean comforted Edge, he simply couldn’t focus on that now.

Edge looked at Sans’ other hand. He had been around death before, but seeing the usually-cheery red scarf stained with pale grey ashes made him feel sick. He reached out carefully, but Sans pulled his hand back.

“No.” Sans’ voice was quieter than usual, but firm. “I’m not losing this. It’s—it’s all—” Sans sighed shakily, and he was on the verge of tears again.

Edge replied with the same candid tone. “It’s alright. You aren’t losing anything. I won’t wash it, but I need to wash you. If you get into the tub, then water will get on it. Let me keep it safe, and you can have it back as soon as you’re clean.”

Sans stared at Edge for a long moment, but Edge didn’t turn away. He kept looking into Sans’ eyes, and gently squeezed Sans’ other hand. Edge got a new view of Sans’ face when he was down on the ground like this, and he studied Sans’ face intently. It was painful to see how upset it was, but Edge would never look away. He was determined to be there for Sans.

“Fine.” Sans shoved the scarf at Edge.

Edge took it and put it into his inventory. He stood up, and took both of Sans’ hands in his. Edge helped Sans into the tub, then turned on the water.

Luckily, Edge hadn’t taken his daily shower yet, so there was still plenty of hot water. Edge used some magic to drop spare towels down on the floor around the shower, then turned on the water. He couldn’t close the curtain when he was standing next to Sans, and a few drops of water were already falling outside of the bath.

Sans didn’t try to make conversation as Edge cleaned him. He just stared grimly ahead, his jaw clenched tightly shut. He didn’t move to clean himself, but Edge didn’t mind. He could take care of that.

Edge mainly paid attention to the gash, focusing on rinsing out the cut without aggravating it too much. He kept his other hand on Sans’ hipbone, both to steady him and to move him around as needed. Edge would usually object that such a quick rinse with so little soap wasn’t a real shower, but he wasn’t going to force Sans into anything tonight.

“There. Done.” Edge shut off the water, and reached for a clean towel from the rack. He bundled Sans up in it until only his skull was poking out of the top, then lifted Sans up.

Edge grabbed some cloth bandages and a healing cream from the bathroom cabinet, then carried Sans to his bedroom. He might not be a doctor, but he had some experience with treating injuries like this. Hopefully Sans wasn’t in too much physical pain, and he would heal easily. Edge couldn’t really do anything about his mental distress.

Edge kept checking Sans as he bandaged him, but his HP was holding steady. Edge wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t improving yet, but it still worried him. No matter how many times he saw Sans like this, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Sans might fall down if left to his own devices. He wasn’t going to put more pressure on Sans by voicing his fears, though.

Once Sans’ cut had been bandaged, Edge gave Papyrus’ scarf back. He wasn’t sure if the way Sans grabbed it and held it close to his chest was good, but Sans was clearly attached to it. Sans laid down on his side, curling up like a kicked dog.

Edge fetched a couple of extra pillows and a thicker blanket, then joined Sans. He was humming with energy, but he could lie down for a few minutes at least. Edge wrapped one arm gently around Sans, pulling him until Sans’ chest was pressing against his back.

“I care about you,” Edge said, nuzzling his skull gently against Sans’.

“I know.”

Sans paused for a while, but Edge didn’t speak. He waited calmly, letting Sans gather his thoughts.

“It still hurts,” Sans said, reaching down and taking Edge’s hand in his.

“I know.” Edge rubbed his thumb against the back of Sans’ hand. “I’m here for you.”

—X—

As soon as Edge woke up, he knew something was off. It took only a few seconds to recognize what was wrong. His alarm screamed for him to get up, but there wasn’t the accompanying groan of a lazy skeleton being woken up.

Edge sat up, silencing the alarm with a harsh smack. He put his hand on the bed, but there was no warmth left. Only wrinkled sheets and one of his shirts, which Sans had worn to bed the night before.

He was gone.

Edge’s brain caught up with him by the time he was halfway down the hall. He paused, looking back up at the open door of his bedroom and then slowly trailing his eyelights along the hallway. There was no sign of a disturbance, and no sign of Sans’ presence either. His clothes weren’t sitting on the chair by Edge’s door, and the drawer where Edge had placed Papyrus’ scarf for safe keeping was wide open.

The timeline must have been reset. Edge didn’t know why, but every time it did, Sans—and anything he brought with him—were automatically pulled back. Maybe it had something to do with the physics of the reset. Edge sighed, running both hands over his skull and down his face.

“Something happen to your boytoy?” Red drawled, loudly turning over a page.

Edge walked a few more steps and peered down into their kitchen. Red was sitting at the table nonchalantly, magazine in hand, with a few containers of leftovers spread out around him. He’d made himself scarce during the last few days. Sans could get jumpy when resets were involved, and even if Red and Sans weren’t dating, it must have been uncomfortable for Red to see Sans break down.

Edge was glad to see his brother in one piece, but the positive feeling didn’t last long. “Nothing as important as you PUTTING YOUR FEET ON MY FUCKING KITCHEN TABLE! I EAT THERE!”

Edge knew that Red was doing it on purpose, but he still stormed downstairs with the fury of a thousand tornadoes. Each stomp rattled the floorboards beneath him, but that paradoxically relaxed him. It was his familiar routine of bickering with Red; more aggressive than their ‘tale counterparts, but no less vital to their dynamic. It was also a welcome distraction.

Sans would be back. Edge knew that. He… He really did believe it. He just hoped that Sans would be in a better state the next time he stopped by for an overnight visit.

#undertale #underfell #genocide run #major character death #kedgeup #ut sans/uf papyrus #uf papyrus/ut sans #uf papyrus #underfell papyrus #undertale sans #sans #papyrus #angst #hurt/comfort #haflway to gyftmas #halfway to gyftmas 2022 #fic exchange #dead dove do not eat #ptsd #this gets a bit graphic #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #my stuff

[revengeparasite]

.

#personal #sorry for venting again but i’m just </3 #depression is getting worse #or if i didn’t have it at first i definitely do now #anything i do apparently makes me #1. lying 2. victimizing myself 3. overreacting 4. being dramatic 5. being a baby #i was almost having a breakdown on the way home from a nightly walk #where i had to walk alone with my brother #and my dog tripped and my brother blamed me #and wouldn’t stop until i admitted it was my fault #and so i said “i cant even do that right” “i’m sorry” #and he said “stop victimizing yourself!!! your being a baby! oH LoOk At mE mY LifE iS sO hArD iM so SaD #stop lying.” #and i honestly feel like he doesn’t want me alive anymore. #i told my parents about it and guess what? #“your being overdramatic and waaaaay overreacting. stop your fine” #they don’t do anything and i can’t do anything and i don’t know what to do #sometimes i really wish i didn’t exist

[an-idiot-in-fandoms]

The Less I Know The Better [Jason Todd x Reader]

A/n: just cried for a very long time about my appearance so here’s a comfort piece it’s literally so self indulgent Warnings for angst, very deprecating thoughts

Sometimes, life was a fucking bitch.

No, no; that was too nice. All the damn time, life was a fucking bitch. But, it seemed today it wanted to be particularly petty, and laugh from the sidelines as fate tossed around your broken doll like a dog toy. It wasn’t unordinary for you to have thoughts like today; you didn’t have a very high opinion of yourself; but god, this morning you’d gotten up, looked right in the mirror, and almost had a breakdown.

Why were you so ugly?

So, looks like I’ll be having a fucking awful time, today, you’d thought to yourself, in preparation for the shit show that would begin shortly. You left early, not even bothering to say goodbye to your boyfriend, who laid on the bed, knocked out cold from him nightly, vigilante activities. Usually, you’d give him a little pat, to let him know you were going, and he’d open one sleepy eye, give you a sleep sodden smile, and mumble something about being careful. 

But not today. Today, Jason was the last person that you wanted to see you.

Your fractured, unshapely—

Enough.

Arriving at work, you instantly felt even more overwhelmed, seeing all the perfect faces around you. Why were you cursed with the fucking genetics of a turd? Why were you deformed and disgusting?

Every hello that came your way seemed like an attack, a personal sneer, a pitiful gesture. Each time you walked past a corridor, you swore you could hear the mocking whispers and jeers from the other employees you passed, giggling amongst themselves, discussing your grotesque features. When you walked out of any room, your mind would paint an unsightly picture of every person, laughing so hard they clutched their stomachs: “Did you see their face? God, I’m glad I’m not them! They look hideous!”

The hours seemed to drag by, as you tried to settle yourself into your work, to distract yourself. But, the conversations around you were subtle, tiny digs, even if unintended, towards your appearance.

“You look lovely today, Joanne! Is that a new lipstick?”

“Yeah, it is! I’m surprised you noticed!”

“Are we still up for that date tonight?”

“Of course. I couldn’t ditch my handsome knight in shining armour.”

“Some of us don’t have knights, so you stop bragging.”

“And some of us do — but don’t deserve them.”

You juddered at that comment. You’d felt inferior in your relationship with Jason many times, but never really brought it up with him; insecurity wasn’t a very attractive trait.

Well, you’ve got a face to match it, the vicious voice in the back of your head cooed, why don’t you just let out all of the ugly, so it can match the revoltingness of your appearance?

You had to hold back a sob.

By the time you got home, you were a wreck. You regretted going to work in the first place, you regretted listening to other people’s conversation, you regretted getting up this morning at all. But most of all, you regretted not saying goodbye to Jason.

Would he be angry? Did he feel betrayed? You hadn’t heard from him all day, so if that wasn’t a sign, you didn’t know what was. Had he left you? Had that been the final straw, since he couldn’t stand your face any longer? Had he packed up and left, already thinking of his next new significant other, preferably one with a pretty face?

It got to be too much, too quick.

You collapsed onto the shared bed, and let out an anguished howl, every pent up bit of self-hatred coming out, as you sobbed vicariously into the duvet. Usually, you kept your crying quiet, so you wouldn’t worry others — but Jason wasn’t here, so there was no one to worry about. So, you just wailed and wailed, like a newborn baby, coughs and choked whimpers wracking your body with malicious intent.

However, barely a minute had passed, before the door burst open, causing you to jump in surprise, and sit upright; Jason tumbled into the room, his expression one of deep concern and panic, as he took in your tear streaked face. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, rushing to your side instantly, pulling you against his broad chest. “What’s wrong? I could hear you crying a mile away.”

You couldn’t even respond properly, too relieved that he’d actually come back, your fears of him leaving you had been completely disproven by his return. Instead, you started to blubber once more, grabbing a hold of his jacket, to make sure he was here. And he held you, rocking you back and forth gently, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, gradually calming you down.

After about five minutes, you were finally able to form a coherent sentence, now no longer snivelling. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily.

Jason’s gaze of complete disbelief made you wince. “What in fuck’s name — what are you sorry for?” he demanded incredulously.

“For being ugly,” you at last decided to be honest, and spilled your guts. “I hate the way I look, so much — it hurts. Every time I look at myself I see nothing but a worthless, ugly piece of shit, who doesn’t deserve you, and one day you’re going to realise that I’m fucking hideous and you’ll leave me, rightfully so—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he pressed a finger to your chapped lips, before moving to smooth over your mouth gently, to try and reduce the downwards curve it was pulled into. “Doll, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Can we get that clear? First of all, I need somewhere to live,” he elicited a small chuckle out of you with that, “but more importantly, I can’t live without you.”

You sniffed slightly, and nodded, feeling a little better at the confirmation that he was staying.

“But all this talk about you being ugly? That’s not gonna stand,” Jason frowned, cupping your face so you had nowhere to look at but him. “Listen here, sweetheart. I didn’t decide to ask you out because I pitied you. I want you because I love your personality and your looks, got it? I don’t know what shit has been fed to you, but attractiveness is subjective. And to me, every single part of you,” his gaze adoringly flitted down your figure, to admire you, “is fuckin’ beautiful.”

A lump caught in your throat at his words. He could be so sincere and romantic when he wanted to; a product of all that Jane Austen, you supposed.

“Can you say it for me?” he coaxed, his fingers trailing up and down your jaw in a relaxing pattern. “C’mon, say you’re beautiful.”

An embarrassed heat spread across your body, and a swarm of butterflies invaded your stomach. But, you knew he’d never leave it alone if you at least didn’t try. So, you screwed your eyes up tightly, and tried, tried so hard.

“I’m... I’m beau—” you inhaled a shuddered breath.

Jason paused, before leaning forward, and pushing his lips to yours gently. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, travelling up your back at one second, then tracing the curve of your face, or rubbing your thighs; he drew back for a second, to murmur, “You’re so beautiful.” Then, he tugged you even closer, his hot skin against yours, now desperate and amourous.

You whispered Jason’s name in between kisses, trying to get a word out edgeways, but each time he’d shut you up with his messy love, complete with his characteristic husky hums as he enjoyed you. You could feel yourself getting backed further and further down, till your back hit the mattress, and his grip fondled your waist. He dipped down, to press his mouth against your neck, fingers still everywhere at once.

“If you don’t say it,” he whispered, “then I’ll say it for you, sweetheart.”

And he did. Jason said it again, and again, and again.

#Jason Todd #Jason Peter Todd #jason todd angst #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #batfamily #jason todd fluff

[rhys-rambles]

FIGHT CLUB | 1999

I was introduced to the movie Fight Club around 3 years ago. It wasn’t until recently I’ve become interested in it. So here’s my Fight Club breakdown :) WARNING FOR SPOILERS!!

For those who don’t know, Fight Club is a cult favorite novel that was later adapted into a film released in 1999, directed by David Fincher. Starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter.

The story of Fight Club revolves around three main characters. It’s told from a first-person perspective by a nameless character that’s commonly called ‘the narrator’, who has a dead-end white-collar job at a major car company and has fallen prey to what he calls the ‘Ikea-nesting instinct’. Dictated by social norms he walks perfectly in line like a docile sheep, which translates into an inauthentic, repetitive and empty life.

He suffers from a bad case of insomnia, which causes him to be neither fully awake, nor fully asleep. Sometimes, he entertains self-destructive thoughts: as he flies around from state to state for his job, he prays for a crash or mid-air collision every time the plane bankes too sharply on takeoff or landing.

During a flight, he meets an eccentric and hypermasculine character named Tyler Durden.

Tyler seems to be the direct opposite of the narrator. He’s a wolf rather than a sheep, disentangled from society, and impervious to social norms. He takes what he wants, without asking, and whenever he pleases. He’s self-sufficient, has no superiors, and doesn’t care about material possessions.

The movie later reveals that Tyler and the narrator are the same person, as Tyler is a product of the narrator’s imagination, that’s probably induced by severe insomnia combined with dissatisfaction with a dull, meaningless existence and a lifetime of repressed urges.

The narrator is addicted to going to support groups for specific illnesses because these give him the opportunity to cry, which seems to be a remedy for his insomnia. The downside of his behavior is that he isn’t genuine; he has no testicular cancer, or blood parasites, yet acts as if he does, so he can reap the benefits of these sessions.

But these benefits come to an end when another non-genuine visitor starts to join the sessions as well. This is a woman named Marla Singer, and her motive for joining these sessions is, and I quote: “It’s cheaper than a movie and there’s free coffee.”

Marla is a self-destructive, chain-smoking fatalist, who’s expecting to die at any moment, but finds it tragic that it never happens. She steals food and clothes for a living and attempts suicide by overdosing Xanax.

Even though the narrator, Tyler, and Marla are totally different personalities, they all live their lives accompanied by a nihilistic undercurrent.

Tyler seems to have figured out what causes this emptiness, and during the course of the story, his solution unfolds. Unfortunately, his character slides from a sage-like father figure to an anarchist terrorist, who’s out to destroy modern civilization. Nevertheless, he exposes a series of harsh realities about modern life that are worth contemplating.

Anti-consumerism

The anti-consumerist stance of Tyler Durden becomes obvious when he verbalizes his concern about the modern way of life. Shortly after the narrator meets Tyler, he discovers that his apartment went up in flames. After this unfortunate event, realizing that he has no friends to call, he calls Tyler. The two meet, and the narrator complains about losing his furniture, and his respectable and almost complete wardrobe. Tyler responds rather indifferently and slightly sarcastically before he begins to express his views on the matter. Quote:

“We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra…”

It becomes clear that Tyler has quite an unconventional view of what’s good and bad. Murder, crime, and poverty are generally considered bad things, while consumer goods like televisions, clothing from a certain brand, products that help to hide aging, enhance bedroom performance, and help us with weight loss, are considered preferable.

Tyler has a contempt for the artificial, as opposed to elements that have been a natural part of the human condition, probably as long we exist. This way of thinking touches upon an ancient Cynic philosopher named Diogenes of Sinope, who believed that modern, civilized life hinders our natural state.

At the end of the movie, it appears that the narrator has destroyed his apartment himself when he was taken over by his alter ego, Tyler Durden. This deed was the first step onto the road of detachment from his property, into a more authentic way of life and to (how Tyler puts it): “reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.”

The narrator moves in with Tyler, who lives in a dilapidated house with ongoing leaks, power failures, and no Ikea furniture. Slowly but surely, the narrator indeed detaches from his previously destroyed property. “Things you own end up owning you,” Tyler tells him. And this simple piece of wisdom probably hits home, when the narrator realizes that he doesn’t need all these worldly goods, and is actually much happier without them.

Non-conformity

Tyler Durden is a non-conformist, and shows, again, similarities with Diogenes, who not only purposefully lived in poverty, but also rejected social norms. For him, social constructs are nothing more than a superficial layer of culture that represses our true nature.

Diogenes lived in a barrel, Tyler lives in an abandoned building. Diogenes urinated in public, Tyler urinates in the soup of a restaurant.

The narrator, on the other hand, seems to be the embodiment of conformity, as he adapts his lifestyle completely to societal expectations. The problem with this behavior is that we dedicate our existence walking the paths that people other than ourselves have laid out for us. This need to conform, the fear of falling by the wayside, this sickly preoccupation by what others think of us, this necessity to keep up with the Joneses: what an exhausting way of life, just to feel ‘accepted’.

So, what if we stop caring? What if we reject the generally accepted norms, and choose our own values, elect our own leaders, determine our own goals, regardless of the social expectations? This is a fundamental difference between the narrator and Tyler Durden, who puts it like this: “I am free in all the ways that you are not.”

Ironically, later on in the story, Project Mayhem, a terrorist organization led by Tyler that grows out of Fight Club, is a textbook example of conformity, as it’s members wear the same clothes, are absolutely equal, abolish their names, and are referred to as space monkeys that sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. We could say that by rejecting one doctrine in order to be ‘non-conformist’, we often imprison ourselves in another one.

Fighting and masculinity

Fighting and the experience of pain play a significant role in Fight Club. At the beginning of the story, Tyler asks the narrator to hit him as hard as he can. He explains his strange wish by saying: “How can you know yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? I don’t want to die without any scars.”

So, the narrator hits him. Tyler hits him back, and the two engage in a fistfight. Both seem to feel surprisingly pleasant afterward and decide to do it again. Their nightly activities on a parking lot attract the attention of other men, that are also interested in joining these non-hostile fistfights. And thus, Fight Club is born.

It’s widely known that voluntary exposure to certain forms of pain makes us stronger in the face of adversity, which could be a legit reason to partake in these fights. As the narrator states: “After fighting everything else in your life got the volume turned down.”

However, Fight Club is more than just a metaphor for dealing with hardship through exposure: a physical fight, and the violence and aggression that goes with it, resonates with the primal part of our being.

Not only the men in the story are attracted to the violence of fighting; Fight Club as a movie and novel was so impactful on its audience, that real-life Fight Clubs started to emerge.

The story shows an experiment in which the members of Fight Club pick fights with random strangers (and are supposed to lose), which isn’t as easy as it sounds; most people do everything to avoid physical conflict.

But Fight Club makes us wonder if it’s a good thing that we’ve lost touch with these primal tendencies. Should we repress this part of human nature? Or, perhaps, integrate it in healthy and constructive ways?

Self-destruction

When the story progresses, Tyler and the narrator begin to see the world through a different lens. Tyler criticizes the modern self-improvement hype by saying: “Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction… ”

This statement is slightly confusing, as the increasingly destructive nature of Fight Club, in which faces are permanently mutilated and teeth are knocked out of people’s heads, doesn’t seem to be a sustainable way to live.

But Tyler might be onto something when we look at self-destruction as the destruction of a false self.

‘Self-improvement’ often points to the accumulation of external goods: a better house, a better job, a better body, more money. But why should we endlessly want to improve ourselves? Why can’t we just be happy with how things are, and take life as it comes? Or as Tyler states:

“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

We create an identity through material wealth, and social status. And as far as Tyler is concerned, this false sense of self must be destroyed, before we are free to do anything we want. Therefore, the ‘space monkeys’ of Project Mayhem live by a mantra which goes like this:

“You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler makes a so-called human sacrifice, namely a man called Raymond who works a dead-end job in a convenience store. Raymond wanted to be a veterinarian, but didn’t make it because it was “too much studying.” Tyler threatens Raymond, saying that if he doesn’t start studying within six weeks, he’ll kill him.

In this scene, Tyler points to another aspect of self-destruction: the act of letting go of fears, negative self-talk, and all distractions, so we can fully focus on our purpose. It’s the destruction of everything within ourselves that holds us back from living life on our own terms.

A near-life experience

Many people go great lengths when it comes to pain avoidance. The problem is that running from pain means running from an inevitable part of life.

The prospect of incurring pain makes us anxious, and often leads to self-indulgent decisions. That is: choosing the less painful path, even if a more painful path guarantees more success and pleasure in the future.

Tyler Durden deals with this by inflicting a chemical wound on the narrator’s hand using lye.

As expected, the narrator does everything to escape the pain: he uses visualization techniques he learned at a seminar, and retreating in his cave to find his ‘power animal’. But Tyler slaps him in the face, forcing him to stay with the pain, saying: “This is the greatest moment of your life, man. And you’re off somewhere missing it.”

For the narrator, Tyler has one central goal: he must reach bottom. After putting him through suffering, and destroying his false identity, there’s yet another aspect that must be crushed: hope. Losing all hope is freedom. And, therefore, he must reject what has rejected him: his father, and God. I quote:

“Consider the possibility that God does not like you. In all probability, he hates you.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler states that we don’t need God. That we shouldn’t care about redemption and damnation. And if we’re God’s unwanted children, so be it. Thereby, we lose all hope, but are also liberated from religious doctrine and fatherly authority.

Now we’re truly free. Now we can create our own meaning, and live how we want to live.

Tyler emphasizes the importance of knowing what we want in life. To achieve this, we must be willing to get out of our comfort zone and jump into the unknown without safety brackets.

The narrator, however, has difficulties letting go of security. He begs Tyler to not mess around when he lets go of the steering wheel in a driving car while hitting the gas. Tyler calls the narrator ‘pathetic’, and yells: “hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go!”

After an inevitable car crash, Tyler states that they just had a ‘near-life experience’.

Wrap up

Fight Club is a story about rebellion against the status quo and a plea for the simple life. It criticizes the ways in which we are so hung up on security, and material possessions, and how people let social norms dictate their lives.

‘Stuff’ has become our religion. The idols we worship are Ikea and Starbucks. And the more we immerse ourselves in such an empty and unfulfilling existence, the more we start to resemble the things that we produce: manufactured products rather than authentic human beings.

Tyler shows us a way out. And even though his insights are profound, the execution is questionable. Fight Club, and its terrorist branch Project Mayhem, show us how easy it is to oppose one ideology, in order to fall into another, and how a cult-like echo chamber built on rigid beliefs could become very destructive.

Nevertheless, Tyler challenges us to be self-sufficient and disobedient to the authorities that let us down, to live authentically and in the moment, to confront our fears, to boldly step out of our comfort zones, and let the things that don’t matter truly slide.

#fight club #tyler durden #the narrator #marla singer #fight club (1999) #i wrote this instead of sleeping #movie analysis

[thesevenumbrellas]

Alex/Willie AU

Warning: Character death

Alive au where the band is in college and Alex is dating Willie. 

One day he’s waiting for Willie outside of class, and Willie’s skateboarding to come meet him before a date. Willie’s going too fast and doesn’t look before skating into the street and... 

Alex watches him die.

He’s inconsolable

 Alex falls into depression with severe survivor’s guilt. He can’t go to class; he can barely get out of bed. He can’t tell his parents what happened because he’s still in the closet. His best friends know, and they try to help him, but there’s only so much they can do. 

There’s more though. 

Sometimes it’s like Wille never left. He’ll smell Willie’s cologne when he’s alone. A picture will move in his room. Sometimes he swears he’ll feel someone stroking his hair when he’s crying. 

Even worse... he’ll hear Willie speak. It’ll be just as he’s falling asleep or just as he’s waking up. Willies voice will go “Alex” or “I love you” or “I miss you” or “please see me.” And then Alex will jolt upright, expecting to see Willie. But no one will be there. 

He doesn’t tell Luke, Reggie, or Julie. They’re already worried enough about him... but the longer it goes on for, the more he’s convinced that he might be going crazy. 

Eventually a few weeks after Willie’s death... Alex decides to try playing music again. It’s just to get Luke off his back. His friends are so worried about him... and maybe if music helped Julie then it’ll help Alex. 

So, he picks up his drumsticks and finds a practice pad (because dorms are too loud for dorms anyway). He just figures he’ll find the beat and sing along to whatever comes up on his playlist.

Of course the first song is his and Willie’s song. He almost breaks down all over again. But he holds himself together. He told himself he’ll play one song and he will. 

So, he does. He starts to hit out the beat. He’s rusty but it’s simple enough. 

Then he starts singing along, just low enough to keep himself on track. He focuses and he sings and he tries very very hard not to cry. 

He doesn’t even notice at first... but there’s a third voice singing along. He can barely hear it over his headphones, but he swears it sounds just like Willie. 

It can’t be. He’s imagining it. This can’t be real.

 Alex looks up. 

There he is. Willie...his boyfriend... in front of him. Singing along to their favorite song. 

Alex jumps up. His drumsticks go flying. His headphones are yanked from his head. 

There’s a moment where Alex and Willie just stare at each other- and then Willie is gone. 

He’s going crazy. He’s insane. This is it. Full mental breakdown. 

He doesn’t say anything to Luke. He stops answering Julie’s phone calls. He doesn’t answer the door when Reggie comes knocking. 

He waits a full day until he tries again. Drum pad. Sticks. Song. Go. This time he’s ready. He finds the rhythm and he sings and he waits. Willie’s voice comes through first. He’s just barely audible through the headphones. 

Then suddenly he’s there, kneeling barely an inch away from where Alex is sat. This time he doesn’t stop. He keeps singing. So does Willie. By the time the song’s over they’re both sobbing through the lyrics. When it ends, Willie disappears again. 

He has to say something to his friends, right? He’s not crazy... he can’t be. Breakdowns and hallucinations usually don’t follow rules. But there are rules to this thing. They figure it out together, one song at a time. The headphones aren’t necessary, just Alex singing. The songs they’d loved together before Willie died are the strongest. He looks more solid when they sing them, and he’s louder too. They both have to be singing together. 

They can’t touch. They can’t speak.

As soon as the song ends, Willie disappears again. Those are the rules of the afterlife, apparently. 

Or at least he hopes. Because if this is a mental breakdown... He can’t think like that. Not when there’s a chance to have Willie back! But first, he has to show someone. Anyone. Just to double check. 

So, he goes to Julie. He wants to think it’s because they’re close and she understands grief... and that’s part of it. But also, he knows she’ll be the most understanding if Alex really is losing it. 

She’s obviously surprised when he invites her into his dorm room. He can’t blame her. He hasn’t talked to anyone in weeks. She answers the text immediately with a simple “omw,” and knocks at his door five seconds later. 

 “You have to trust me,” is the first thing he says when he opens the door.

“You look terrible,” is the first thing she says. 

 “Just sit there and watch.” 

To her credit she doesn’t argue with him. She sits on the floor and nods. He picks up his sticks and queues a song to play out loud on his laptop. It’s one of their favorites. He remembers belting out the lyrics with Willie during a road trip to visit Willie’s uncle. He starts to tap out the rhythm. Then he starts to sing. 

Then he can hear Willie. 

Julie gasps just as Alex’s dead boyfriend materializes into existence. He’s not crazy. He’s not crazy. He’s not crazy. 

They show Reggie and Luke together after that. At first Alex doesn’t want to. He’s selfish. He doesn’t want to share Willie more than he has to. But Julie convinces him ... she’s scared. He knows she’s scared even though she’s trying to hide it. So they show Luke and Reggie in the same way.

Alex plays, then Willie appears. 

Luke freaks out. He’s throws a chair at Willie (it goes through him) and screams and completely loses it. Reggie just stares, completely unable to comprehend. Willie is dead but he’s also right there in front of them. At first, they think it’s some sort of trick, but one look at Alex and they know that’s not true. Alex would ever use Willie like that. 

It’s takes a few more songs for them to believe it’s real but by the end of the night, they’re all jamming together as if singing with a ghost is normal.

With the others there to sing along there’s more wiggle room. Alex can speak between lyrics, and Willie can sometimes even answer, as long as he’s banging out a rhythm or plucking the guitar. 

They still can’t touch though. 

 Weeks go by. 

Then months. 

 Singing with Willie becomes an almost nightly occurrence. It stops being sad and just becomes normal. Between lyrics Willie mouths I love you. Between beats, Alex can whisper I miss you. 

 Alex starts to get better too. He leaves his dorm. He starts going to classes. One day he goes out for coffee with Julie. Another day he and Reggie go for a walk in the park. It’s baby steps but he manages it. Every time he returns, he greets his empty room with a song and Willie will appear.

Until there comes a day when Alex returns from a gig. It’d been one of the best gigs of their lives. Alex had played perfectly. But even better... there’d been no sadness. He’d gone the entire night just being happy. He hadn’t thought of Willie or his parents. It’d been nice to feel normal. Maybe that’s what did it. Maybe Alex didn’t hold on hard enough. Maybe it’d been that one night without grief... or maybe it was just a coincidence. He’ll never know. 

 He returns home and he knows even before he sings that Willie is gone. There’s an emptiness to the room that wasn’t there before. But he sings anyway. 

Willie doesn’t appear. He tries again. Nothing. Willie is gone. 

 Willie is gone but it’s not as painful as before. 

Alex isn’t crushed by it this time. 

Maybe he’d been preparing... maybe he knew this was going to happen. But ghosts have to move on eventually. Even though Alex wished oh so badly that that wasn’t the case. 

 So, he goes to find Luke instead of hiding away. Luke holds him, trying to make it better, expecting Alex to break again. 

But he doesn’t. It’s hard but he thinks that maybe this time he can survive it. 

And when it gets too much, on those days when the grief hits him full force all over again, all he has to do is sing.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #Jatp hc #Jatp au #Alex jatp #willex #willie/alex #character death #death tw #Willie is a ghost

[danny-chase]

if you want, maybe you could do "severed artery" with Dick and have Roy (or one of the other Titans) take care of him? love your writing and I hope you're having a nice day!

AHH thank you so much! I hope you enjoy!

Severed Artery - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics), Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roy Harper & Dick Grayson Characters: Roy Harper, Dick Grayson, Garth (DCU), Donna Troy (minor) Additional Tags: Can be read as pre-slash, POV Roy Harper, POV Dick Grayson, vomitting, Blood, Guns, Hospitals, Canon-Typical Violence, dick is a little shit, Roy is a Little Shit, Homophobia, Roy Harper Needs a Hug, Roy Harper gets/gives a hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Roy Harper emotional whump, Protective Roy Harper, Hurt Dick Grayson, Garth is the best, Titans as family, Confused Dick Grayson, Medical Inaccuracies Series: Part 6 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick and Roy are little shits to each other, until the night takes a turn for the worse.

Full story under cut

“Aight, Donna, you ready to go?” Roy chirped, taking a second to look himself over in the mirror, running his fingers through his (surprisingly) soft hair (he’d be stealing Dick’s shampoo more often) – getting that perfect messy, but stylish look. He fired off finger guns at his reflection – he was killing it, somehow listening to Gar of people had worked out – he gave shockingly good fashion advice.

Feeling optimistic, he sauntered into the hall, only to be met with Donna’s confused expression.

“Roy, I’m going out with the girls tonight, I told you like four times.” She leaned against the wall, gesturing to Jesse and Toni, car keys dangling from her hand. Jesse stared at him, an eyebrow cocked judgmentally, as Toni smiled, offering a little wave. He waved back, watching Jesse’s expression morph into disapproval.

“Hey, I didn’t even do anything!” He complained, glaring at Jesse. She rolled her eyes, not deigning to verbally respond. Ice queen.

Reaching out, Donna patted his shoulder, waiting until he met her eyes. “I’m sorry, hun, but we’ve got tickets to a concert, could we go out next weekend?” She fluttered her eyelids slightly, sending chills up his spine. “Why don’t you take one of the boys with you?”

“Terrible company, but babe, have fun, I’ll figure something out.” He cupped her chin in his hand, leaning forward to peck a kiss to the top of her head, ignoring the fact she squatted down to make the moment work.

“Mm, thanks.” With that, the girls were off for the night, leaving him stranded in a deserted hallway.

Well. He could do what Donna suggested and take out one of the guys – he had the reservation, and Lian was already situated with the sitter. But which guy was the question… Wally was out with the league, Garth was visiting home, Vic was with Gar, and Grant had a date. Which left Dick – no - Dick was busy working – actually yes – he likely needed a break.

Actually – was he even here?

He started towards the central control room, poking a head in Dick’s room on the way and had to do a double take.

“You’re actually in <em>your room</em>?” Dick threw a pencil at him without looking up from his desk, child’s play to dodge – Dick speak for hmm, maybe something like ‘asshole’, but he took it as an invitation to enter. But if Dick was going to call him an asshole, he had expectations to live up to.

He took a standing leap, twisting and flopping across Dick’s immaculately made bed, sending blankets and pillows careening off the side. Dick ignored him, scribbling down some notes on a pad of paper. Roy waited for a few minutes, listening to the scratch of pen on paper. Quick and noisy – Dick was likely stressed – he was pushing down harder than normal; he gave it an eighty/twenty chance something was up.

Ripping paper proved him right, as Dick frustratedly crumpled up the page of notes, throwing them behind him, hitting the recycling bin with ease. Groaning, he dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes.

“Showoff.” Dick startled, jumping out of his chair, Roy’s own reflexes were the only thing that saved him from taking a pen between the eyes.

“What the fuck, Richard?!” He yelled, yanking the little missile out of the air. A faint flush tinted the top of Dick’s ears.

“I forgot you were there.” The admission was almost too quiet to hear, but combined with the minute sign of embarrassment, it rang of truth. Roy could milk this, oh he totally could.

“What was that, why did you almost kill me?” If he played his cards right, he wouldn’t be dining alone tonight.

“I didn’t think you were…” Dick trailed off, glaring at him. “You heard what I said.” He retorted, catching on. Sucks to suck, Dickie – he was obviously tired if that spooked him – he was likely running on caffeine.

“Oh, you misunderstand.” Scooching off the edge of the bed, he hopped lightly onto the balls of his feet. “Why’d the batboy forget I was there, hmm?” He pulled a half-eaten energy bar off the desk, inspecting the wrapper. Dick casually rocked back in his chair.

“See, completely decaf, I told you I’d-” Roy yanked open a drawer, Dick darting to stop him. “This is my desk!” He slammed the drawer shut a moment too late – Roy had good eyes after all.

“Hmm, so how do you explain the-”

“Get out, I have stuff to do – aren’t you supposed to be on a date with-”

“-CAFFIENE PILLS IN YOUR DRAWER!” He shouted through Dick’s response, effectively shutting him up. There’d been an intervention years ago after too many days spent on one hour or less of sleep. “You know the deal.” Dick groaned as he ruffled his hair.

“I have to-”

“Eat, shower, and sleep. And I have reservations. For two. You’re coming with me.” Ah yes, a romantic dinner date with Dick Grayson. People would kill for this. Dick crossed his arms. Roy picked up his chair, staggering towards the door. Dick was going whether he liked it or not, a real meal (not protein shakes or energy bars) would do him good.

“No one’s even done this to me in like, a year.” He noted, gracefully leaping out of the seat. “Asshole.” Grumbling he lightly punching him in the arm before heading into his walk-in closet, stripping off his shirt as he went. Automatically, Roy scanned for any new injuries, his eyes lingering over a few of the old.

“Liar, Wally caught you two months ago. Besides, the restaurant is nice, Donna likes it and you two are basically the same person, so you’ll love it.” Dick scoffed, stepping out of view.

“Is that all I am to you? Your replacement for Donna?” He sounded mildly offended.

“Nah, you’re too ugly to replace her.” Dick hmphed. “And your personality sucks.” Roy added.

“Why the hell am I going with you?”

“It’s not like your night could get any worse.” Dinner was better than casework after all.

Dick’s head poked out the doorway, looking completely unamused. “Asshole.” He chirped a second time, ducking back away.

Roy sat across from him, speaking between mouthfuls of pasta, smacking his lips together. “So anyways this kid, Johnny is like, sitting next to Lian in class, and he keeps taking her crayons and won’t give them back.” Dick thought for a moment, watching Roy drum his fingers rhythmically on the table. “And the teacher is being ridiculous, she just believes Johnny over Lian. My Lian! Can you believe it?” He slammed his fork down, articulating the point.

<em>And you’re sure Lian gave you the whole story?</em> Was what Dick wondered, but he’d prefer not to die for questioning Lian’s integrity tonight. “Why don’t you mark her crayons with a sharpie and let the teacher know?” Roy’s fingers stopped.

“Huh, hadn’t thought of that.” He leaned back in his seat, distantly looking out the window. People trickled down the street, passing by the little café, kicking up crimson leaves from half empty trees. Streetlights flickered on; fairy lights crisscrossing the avenue, as the sun lazily sunk in the sky. It was a beautiful night – Roy was right, he did love it, the food was good – catching up with Roy was refreshing – and the location was stunning; as always, Roy always picked the perfect places for dates. Dick was past the point of being annoyed at the situation but was still determined to give Roy a hard time.

“Well, maybe if you thought about that instead of harassing me.” He leaned forward, resting his head on his hand, dramatically looking out the window – Babs was going to kill him for being late with his case reports. Again. Roy smirked as he rocked forward, reaching across the table to lay a hand on his forearm. He at least had the decency to look apologetic.

“Look, you know the deal.” Brushing his thumb against his skin placatingly, he waited until Dick met his eyes. “You’re working full time, and have your nightly duties, and you’re with us.” His voice dropped, his nostrils flaring in irritation. “It’s not like you’ll leave Bruce alone any time soon either. Dick.” His eyes crinkled around the edges – concern. “You’ve got to start taking care of yourself.” Dick rolled his eyes; he was doing fine.

“You’re working with Ollie, you have a daughter, and you’re working with us, look I had one breakdown-”

“More than one-”

“-Only one that wasn’t the result of external influences.” Fuck Brother Blood for the other ones. “We made the caffeine deal after,” he grimaced reflexively “I broke up with Kory but, Roy.” He clasped Roy’s hand with his other hand reassuringly. “I promise I’m doing better now.” Tilting his head to the side, he cracked his neck. “Plus, you only brought me along because Donna was busy, that’s not what the deal was for.”

“Okay, maybe that was shitty of me, but it’s nice seeing you without the tights.” Roy flashed a winning smile. “Not that I don’t like seeing you in them, the new stuff looks great.”

“Oh, so I don’t look great now?” He teased. He’d picked out his brightest shirt for the occasion – a polo patterned after bowling alley carpet paired with the tightest red jeans he could find, and of course, a pair of heels borrowed from Donna. A single giant hoop earring dangled off his left ear. If he was going out with Roy, he wanted people taking pictures. Payback. This would be in the news tomorrow.

“Babe,” Roy lifted up his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You look stunning.” He grinned goofily, seemingly happy to play along. Welp. If that’s how they were going to play it. He booped Roy’s nose, watching his pupils dilate. Dick recoiled in surprise – Roy wasn’t -

“Wait, you’re not actually-”

A scream cut him off, whirling around in his seat he saw a large man storming into the café brandishing a gun, his face red beet red and angry. He turned back, squeezing Roy’s hand, nodding towards the silverware.

“No-no one else move!” The guests around them stayed frozen in place. Three older ladies on their right, a family of four on their left (he guessed it was the young girl who screamed), and a couple across from them. The staff ducked behind the counter as people outside the restaurant scrambled away.

Dick raised his hands slowly. “I said no one move!” The gun pointed directly at him. Perfect.

“Okay, I won’t move.” He said steadily, watching sweat bead on the man’s head – he was nervous, his hands twitched uneasily on the gun – possibly his first time, and he kept muttering to himself. He watched Roy’s hand carefully creep towards silverware in his peripheral. “Do you want money? My father is rich.” Watching the man jitter about, he slowly stood up. Roy’s hand closed around the fork.

“Okay? You-you can get me money?” The man mused to himself, shifting his weight back and forth. He started lowering his gun, taking a step forward, he reached out his other hand. Dick took a few steps to the right, away from his chair, shifting attention away from Roy. “Okay the-”

*BANG* The world sped up around him, he rushed forward as the man fell-

*BANG* The man hadn’t even hit the ground – he was already dead – already-

“DICK-”

*BANG* Blood and brain matter poured out of the man’s head, someone was screaming, it didn’t need to-

*BANG*

“STOP!” Someone slammed into his side, and he hurtled to the ground. “HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

Roy’s face hovered above him. “Dick! You’re going to be fine.” His hands clamped napkins to his left shoulder, one on his front the other on his back – and shit – that was a lot of blood. “Hey, look at me.” Pain radiated out for the spot as Roy doubled the weight on the wound, blood seeping out past his fingers, waves pulsating in time to his heartbeat.

Cops burst in through the door, rushing to swarm the dead body. One glanced their way. “Oh shit, you hit the fa-”

“Fucking call an ambulance you dipshits!” Roy’s voice sounded farther away. “Slow your heart, fuck, do your Jedi weirdo bat tricks.” He hissed. Too late, sometimes, things happen too fast. “They hit an artery.” The blood wasn’t stopping, the napkin was soaked through, Dick felt himself slipping into shock. “Dick, stay awake!”

“Lo-ve y-ou.” He stumbled over the words as the world exploded – a million things happening at once – his thoughts scattering as black tinged his vision, overcoming everything.

Roy scrubbed his hands, pausing over the sink, watching the pink water rush down the drain, gurgling as it went. He rubbed a hand further, tackling the blood crusted over his elbow. He made a mistake of catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror –Dick’s blood was everywhere, coating his shirt, arms, pants, even some on his face. His stomach flipped, clenching tightly as he started to gag - fuck.

Throwing himself over the toilet, dinner rising back up in his throat, he threw up the seat. Shaking, he held himself over the porcelain toilet, fingertips staining it red, as he heaved. Soap bubbles dripped from his hands over the edge of the bowl, spattering on the ground.

Each drop spurred a recollection of the night’s events.

*Plop* The man was dead before he hit the grown, brain matter spattering the wall.

*Plop* A bullet whistled through the air, missing Dick by millimeters, lodging six inches next to the little girl’s head. He ran, screaming <em>“Dick!”</em>

*Plop* Blood sprayed out, a bullet ripping through Dick’s shoulder, as he kept moving towards the man.

*Plop* <em>“Stop!”</em> Tackling Dick out of the way, he screamed for them to stop, ripping napkins off a table and desperately trying to stop Dick’s life from slipping through his fingers.

He fell to his knees, a pit growing in his stomach spreading to his chest, rooting him to the spot. He curled his knees to his chest. Fuck. Dick had been shot before. But this? It was different. They weren’t in costume, they hadn’t been ready – the man hadn’t even shot anyone, only the bastard cops had.

<em>“Love you.”</em>

What kind of final words were those! He sat on the tile floor, banging his head into the side of the wall. Dick couldn’t die. Not because he forced him on some dumb dinner date! It wasn’t fucking fair!

His vision blurred, but he couldn’t do anything to stop the tears, unless he wanted blood in his eyes. Just – fuck. “FUCK!” His shout reverberated around the room. This was all his fault – he should have stayed home with Lian, guilt pooled in the bottom of his stomach. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Why’d he always have to have the last word? What was wrong with him!? Normal people didn’t antagonize each other like that!

The door creaked open. “Roy?” Garth called, the door squealing as it slowly opened. “Donna’s here too, are you ohhhhhhhhh-kay?” His jaw dropped, though he quickly recovered. Roy looked away, in a failed attempt to hide the tear tracks on his cheeks.

Garth stared at his hands. “That’s a lot of blood.” He muttered, his eyes darting around the room. “I mean, I brought you clean clothes.” He placed pair of sweats and a ratty t-shirt he’d stolen from Dick years ago on the counter. Roy’s eyes lingered on the shirt, no doubt the choice had been intentional.

The sound of rushing water cut through the silence, seeming to grow louder with each passing moment. Garth leaned back against the counter, hopping up next to the sink. “He’ll be fine.”

“Yep.” Dick was always fine. Always fine until he wasn’t.

“It’s not your fault.” Wrong.

“Debatable.” Garth frowned at the response but held his tongue. Instead, he let his head fall back against the mirror, staring up at the ceiling.

Softly, barely above a whisper, he continued. “I left you all alone for one day and this is how it ends up.” Roy bit his lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Guilt bubbled in the bottom of his stomach, and annoyance overcame him; they’d had these conversations before.

“Are you kidding me? I know what you want me to say. It’s not your fault – of course not. But then you’ll say ah but it’s not my fault either.” Angrily throwing his arms in the air, he continued, his voice growing louder. “And no – Garth – actually it is my fault!” He could feel the blood rushing to his face. “I’m the one who made him go to the restaurant. I’m the one was too late getting him out of the line of fire!” His voice resounded around the cramped room. He banged his head against the wall again. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do and thanks. But no thanks.”

Nonchalantly shrugging, Garth gestured to the water. “Wallowing here won’t make you feel less guilty. Apologizing when he wakes up will help, and I’m sure you’d prefer to be clean when the time comes.”

“Garth? Could you just…” He trailed off; anger quickly overcome by a wave of guilt. Shut up? Leave? Stop? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure he didn’t deserve whatever pity Garth was feeling. A wet paper towel smacked him in the face.

“Kick you in the rear so you’ll get off your sorry ass and clean yourself up?” Hopping off the counter, Garth strode over, lifting Roy by the elbow. “That’s not my style. But I’ll help you get cleaned up.” He let himself be dragged towards the running water, facing himself in the mirror once more, though this time he focused on Garth.

Sometimes Dick could swear he was actually a time traveler. Or maybe had latent teleportation abilities. Realistically, he’d probably just blacked out from blood loss or a concussion, but eh, that option wasn’t as fun. Blinking, he found himself in a familiar setting; a hospital room in a private wing, at – a clock ticked to his left, looking up – it was 4:19am.

He waited a minute, watching the clock turn to 4:20 - nice.

What was he doing again? How long was he out?

He struggled for a moment before remembering that he went out with Roy at 6pm last night, so he was out for… god math was hard. Six to twelve is six hours plus four, uh, ten hours and twenty minutes. Right. As long as it was the same day, he was set.

“Shit.” He promptly realized he couldn’t move his left arm. A sling. UGH. “Son of a-” he cut himself off, realizing he wasn’t alone in the room, Donna was gently snoring in a nearby chair, a little throw blanket covering her. The patterns had fish people… there was a word for that… mer-somethings-maids, mermaids. Mermaids – Garth – Garth was here, that was his blanket.

Dick scanned the room, checking for signs of life. Someone’s bag was on the floor, but he didn’t feel like expending the brain power to figure out who’s. Alright. He steeled himself. Now was the perfect time for escape.

The room spun as he sat up, turning around and round again before his eyes. Hah. Count Vertigo was way worse than this. Yep, head empty, room spinning, this was fine. Swinging his legs over the bed, an alarm blared next to his head.

“Fuck!” He jumped out of his skin, springing to his feet, in a defensive position. Well. He thought he did. The room was tilting on its side, the high-pitched noise shattering his thoughts. Instinctively, he tried to run.

“Woah there, shorty.” He found himself held by strong arms, the world turning once more. The familiar scent of Roy’s aftershave overpowered his senses. Distantly he was aware of the alarm turning off, his legs hitting the back of the bed. Roy’s face swam into view as he was guided back onto the bed, now propped up by soft pillows. So much for escape…

He closed his eyes, waiting for the rush of dizziness to pass. “Roy?” Warm arms wrapped around his torso, snaking tenderly around the sling. “What?” He mumbled - not that he was complaining, as he nestled his chin on Roy’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly, pressing his face into Roy’s stiff neck, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth.

For some reason, the wheels in his brain began turning. Roy. Dinner. Gunshots. His eyes shot open. “Fuck did you get hit, are you okay?” He pulled back, scanning Roy for injuries.

“I’m fine.” Roy facepalmed.

“What?”

“You got shot and you’re asking if <em>I’m</em> okay?” Roy shook his head, exhaustion clear in his voice. Dick looked at his sling again.

“I got shot?” It was like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. “I got shot…” Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere else? “How the fuck am I supposed to explain this to my boss?”

Sighing, Roy took a seat on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?” Turning, he looked Dick in the eyes. “Don’t answer that actually. Look, I’m sorry I made you go out to dinner.”

“Why? It was nice.” The food was good. Sputtering, Roy searched for words.

“Well. Don’t say I never apologized.” A little bit of a blush crept up his neck.

His mind abruptly recalled something he’d heard Roy saying to Lian. “Apologies come with hugs.” Roy rolled his eyes but moved closer anyways.

“You don’t even know why I’m apologizing.” He mumbled, brushing Dick’s bangs to the side. Dick grinned as Roy pecked his forehead, sweeping him into a second embrace. Two hugs in one day – that was a pretty good day. Roy’s fingers stroked through his hair, as Dick leaned into his muscular side, the world spinning slightly, though he’d found a solid rock to lean on.

#bad things happen bingo #titans #batfam #nightwing #arsenal #roy harper #dick grayson #my writing #i'm changing up how i post these a little bit - i'll just make one post responding to the ask #i think it makes it a bit neater #thanks so much for the request! #asks #fanfic

[anothertimdrakestan]

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately. 

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you. 

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly. 

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship. 

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes. 

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry. 

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered. 

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die. 

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth. 

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day. 

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it? 

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal. 

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N. 

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time. 

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape. 

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit. 

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago. 

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest. 

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. 

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there. 

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest. 

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x you #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #dc fluff #tim drake fluff #tim drake fanfic #tim drake imagine #batboys #batboys x reader #batboys x you #bruce wayne #batman

[woopboopboop]

Golden

Note: Hello! This is my first writing ever despite being on this platform for quite a long time now. I thought of sharing my interpretation of Harry’s Golden track in a form of a fic. Hope you enjoy it! :)

Update: Hoooooooly damn! I never thought this will reach even a hundred notes when I posted it. This make me !!!!! really hard! I- OHMYGOD. Thank you for starting my year with a such a good vibe. Much love!

“I don’t know,” he sighed while talking on his phone. She shouldn’t have eavesdropped on their conversation but when she heard her name mentioned during the call, her curiosity got the best of her. Now, whoever is on the phone might have a little sneak peek of what their relationship looked like for the past months. “Well, one way or another she needs to let me in. This won’t work if it’s only one sided,” he continued on, cradling his phone between his shoulder and ear while putting a leather-bound journal into his bag.

This won’t work if it’s only one sided. 

That sentence kept on getting louder and harder to ignore throughout the day. And it totally didn’t help when she was left alone in the house with her lingering thought after Harry left for studio. At first, she just shrugged it off but then she couldn’t help but think of the things that she might have done wrong during their relationship. So far, their relationship had been nothing but great. All of the exchanged conversations and lovely gestures were like second nature to them. She knew that she was treading through the relationship carefully, not being really open about her feelings but she thought she will ease into it slowly and Harry being a kind human he is, didn’t seem to be complaining about it. In the midst of her thought, she didn’t realise that she was walking towards the sofa in the living room causing her to bump into it and losing her grip of the mug in her hand. The sound of the glass breaking after the mug came into contact with the floor was just the tip of the iceberg for the series of anxiety fuelled things that were going to be happening that day.

One sided.

At least that’s how he felt about their relationship right now. For him, when you form a connection with someone, it is all about balancing the giving and receiving scale. Despite his packed schedule, he would find a way in which he can give his time as well as self to her and so does she. The girl gives him a comfortable space where he is welcomed with so much love and no judgement. Throughout knowing each other, he had been open about his life to her. He would talk about the most personal things to the most ridiculous things and she would always be there, receiving what he has to offer with open arms. That is why he sees her as one of the lights in his life and people might think that it is a bit too much. Truthfully, he sees her as the sun that he is destined to meet all along in his dark journey on earth. And just like the sun, there is a part of her that he can’t really see. Despite being open about what is happening around her, she is not really open about herself causing Harry to be left in the shadow. If felt like she was holding herself back. That is when the scale of receiving and giving is not so balanced.

That day had been bad when she didn’t only break the mug this morning, but she also couldn’t seem to do the house chores properly. Now, it had been progressing to be the worst when the steak on the stove burned when she was cooking dinner. “For God’s sake what the hell is wrong today!” she yelled, frustrated over things that had happened today and her inability to keep herself calm throughout the day. It felt like her heart was trying to escape her body every time she thought about the call this morning. She almost threw the pan into the sink but then regained some control over the overwhelming feelings that resided in her. She didn’t realise that a tear escaped her eyes until the droplet landed on her hand while she was holding onto the sink, trying to calm herself.

Didn’t want to make a huge deal out of all the mess that was happening outside and inside of her, she decided to put everything aside. Reaching for her phone, she asked if Harry wants any take away food for dinner. It was about five minutes after she finished cleaning the kitchen when she received two texts from him.

From: Harry

07:03

S’alright, love. Had my dinner with Mitch.

 07:03

Gonna be back late. Don’t wait up.

To: Harry

07:05

Alright. Stay safe, babe.

 After sending the message, she decided to go shower and had dinner by herself. Leaving her and her thoughts once again.

Before Harry, there was literally no one in her life. To be honest, she didn’t really see the point of being in a relationship at first. For her, all of these are just a huge never-ending loop. Every single time is exactly like the one before. You will meet someone, get attached to them and then one of you leave. After that, you will start from the bottom again. “That’s a very negative way to look at it,” he said when he heard her opinion about love during her visit to his place. She shrugged from across the table and continued, “Well, that’s the truth isn’t it?” He looked at her intently, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as if he was trying to find the most suitable answer for the question. When his gaze lingered too long on her, she muttered, “Quit looking at me like that.” Avoiding his gaze when she felt her cheeks getting warmer. A small smile formed on his lips and he said, “To answer your question just now. Maybe.”

That was way before they were engaged in a romantic relationship. At that moment, Harry wanted to tell her that love is way beyond the simple stages that she had arranged it to be. Love is alluring and electrifying.  Unfortunately, he somewhat got lost when he stared into her eyes and decided to tell that to her in another time. Such as the time when he confessed her about his feelings towards her. She did look like she was about to dash out of his house that day but he quickly said that, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. It’s okay. Just thought that I get it out of my chest.” He didn’t want to scare her but at the same time he needed to tell her about his feelings. They were quiet for a moment before she told him that she has the same feeling but doesn’t really know what to do with it. Both of them giggle at her statement. She hesitated for a while when he asked her to be his lover. She worried if this relationship took a wild turn and left both of them heart broken in the end. But then she thought, maybe she could give love a fair chance this time. So, she did.

She huffed at the thought. Maybe she shouldn’t have given it a chance. The very thing that she tried to avoid from occurring to her, which is being heart broken, was looming over her. She felt her eyes sting as she heard This won’t work if it’s only one sided at the back of her head. What is one sided though? She did her best to love him despite her lack of experience and the fear of being heart broken. Will he end it? Will she be the one who ended it? He did sound like he was hurting when he talked over the phone this morning. Maybe it is better to break things off if she is going to hurt him further more? Her thought got distracted when she heard a loud footstep approaching their shared bedroom. Seconds later, Harry tall figure entered the room. “You back early?” she said after checking the time on her phone. “Yeah. Got a lot of work done and thought that we’ll continue it tomorrow,” he answered, walking to the vanity mirror. She knew that it might not be the perfect time to ask him about what happened since tiredness was very much present in his face and movements.

He removed the rings that adorned his fingers and set it carefully on the vanity. She cleared her throat to break the silence in the room and found a courage to look at his face in the mirror. When both of their eyes met, she carefully asked him, “Are we okay?” “Yeah. Why?” By this time, he was walking towards the bathroom to do his nightly routine. Her mind was racing a hundred miles per hour, trying to come up with a reason and then managed to say, “Nothing.” Her fingers messing with the blanket covering the lower part of her body. She never like confrontation in her life. Ever. So, when situation like this comes up, she would rather just sweep it under the rug and let it be there. But she didn’t know what made her so brave tonight. Maybe she was just desperate for some answers.

“I actually heard you while you’re on the phone this morning,” she blurted when he stepped out of the bathroom. His eyes were basically just staring at her right now through his tousled hair and she felt so small on the bed, so she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I heard that you said it won’t work if its only one sided,” she continued. Harry was very much confused as to what she was saying few seconds ago but now he caught up on what she was trying to tell him. “Well, if you could let me in more than maybe it will not be so one sided.” He really didn’t not want to sound nonchalant about the situation but he had been imagining just cuddling and sleeping since he got the privilege to go home early. However, he was confronted with this matter tonight. He made it clear in his voice that thing could be discussed tomorrow but she still pushed for some clarity. “What do you mean? Do you feel like I’m not giving enough?”

“Maybe. Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I am kinda tired.” Without saying any other words, he just slipped into bed and went to sleep. Before this they would have little arguments but they always managed to say sorry before going to bed but not tonight. She mustered whatever that was left in her to not breakdown by the overwhelming waves of emotions and quietly said, “Oh. Okay. Goodnight.” He didn’t reply, giving her some illusion that he was already deep in slumber. In fact, he was still a bit awake even though his droopy eyelids were forcing him to venture into dreamland. Feeling the cover moved and some shifting from her side, he looked over his shoulder to see that she was facing away from him.

When waking up the next day, her heart was still beating hard at the thought that sooner or later she needed to talk to him about what was happening yesterday. Harry, on the other hand, felt bad about last night. He wanted to talk about it but didn’t know how to approach her. As his alarm rang early in the morning, he cleaned up a bit and head to the kitchen to make both of them breakfast. “Morning, love,” he said, small smile on his face when he saw her entering the kitchen. She smiled back knowing that last night didn’t affect his gentle small gestures to her, “Morning.” They had small talk over their breakfast but every time she tried to steer the conversation to what happened yesterday, he seemed to be lost of words. Again, she didn’t want to be pushy about the entire thing and thought that she would confront him after their breakfast.

“Can we talk? About last night?” she asked, following him from behind as he walked into the living room. “Yeah, sure.” He sat on the corner of the sofa facing the television while she took a seat on the opposite corner. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, collecting her courage. The nervousness was boiling inside her stomach and she tried to distract herself by tucking away a piece of stray hair behind her ears. “Are we okay?” her voice sounded so soft as if she was afraid she was going to break the television screen. He was a bit shocked by her voice but that didn’t stop him from asking her, “What do you think?” “You did say that I’m not giving enough. I thought I already gave my all. I’m trying to-” Her words came out desperate and she felt her heart picking up its pace when Harry said, “You thought?” Every word were emphasised and the worst thing was that he didn’t even look at her.

He thought that he would be the one approaching her about this matter. When she first started the conversation, he was a bit taken aback because he was not prepared. The only big question that he had in his mind at the time was “Why are you holding yourself back?” Throughout their relationship, both of them had been completing each other very well but as they were falling deeper into it, it is as if she was holding herself from falling with him. There were times when he thought that maybe she needs time, so he gives her time but slowly he began to question if he is unable to give her a safe and comfortable space to fall. “I’m sorry if you feel like everything is one sided when you’re with me. I didn’t mean to.” His heart ached hearing her apology. He wanted to make it clear it’s not a big deal. That she had been nothing but a sun guiding and supporting him through his darkest hours of life. That she had been nothing but golden. That the only thing that he wanted from her was for her to open up more. Let him in. It would not be enough if she knows who he is but he doesn’t know who she is. The words were fighting in his throat begging to come out but their attempt failed when he could just respond back with, “Hmm.” He could tell that she was getting frustrated when her eyebrow knitted together and a loud sigh escaped her mouth.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She was already on the edge. What is it that he wants from her? The tears were threatening to spill out but she held it in. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that he was leaning forward now both arms resting on his thighs. In seconds he was standing, walking away. “This is it then? Is this how break ups happened?” she thought. As his figure walking further and further away from her, she decided to speak up, “You know damn well Harry that I’m afraid to be in this relationship.” It’s true. More than anyone else, he should’ve known this when she had a negative overview of romance. And the reason as to why she agreed to be with him is because she overcame her fear of love and decided to give it a chance. That stopped him on his track and what he said next wasn’t what she was expecting. “Then why are you here?”

He didn’t shout or scream at her when he asked that but the question sure did leave a deafening impact on her. She felt her ears ringing and her sight became blurry. She wanted to walk towards him and scream in his face but she only managed to look at him in the eyes from where she was sitting on the sofa. “Because you convince me that love is beyond what I thought it was. That love is beautiful. So, I thought that I- I give it a chance. And- and when it comes from a person like you, I thought I could finally fall into someone safely but I guess not.” Her breathing grew heavy from each word and she felt like burying her head in the ground. With every word, he closed the distance between them and stood in front of her. She could feel him towering over but decided to fixed her gaze on the floor. The question of his inability to give her a safe and comfortable space to fall had been answered by her. “So, she did trust me,” he thought but there’s one more question left.

“You barely tell me what you feel about this relationship. Yes, we did what other couples do but I still feel like you’re hiding something from me. Like you’re holding yourself back. If you trust me for giving you a space to fall then why don’t you do it?” He sounded so hurt and a little bit offended. To make the matter worse, when her eyes met his, both of them mirror the same sad expression. Her head was pounding since she forced herself not to cry and she couldn’t help but let one or two tears making their way down her cheeks. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I am trying to open up more. But it can be hard sometimes.” She saw Harry nodding his head and took that as a sign to continue. “What if- what if I fall and be completely open then suddenly one day you just left?” She shook her head at the horrible thought. “I’ve seen how it affects people, Harry. I’ve seen how it affects you. You were so heartbroken and I swear I could see the glint of it in your eyes even in the beginning of our relationship.” It’s true. She saw what love can do to people. Both parties were so open and when things came crashing down, there is nothing left but broken hearts.

He was listening so intently, trying to process the whole scenario. Initially in their relationship, he still felt the sting of heart break after his last break up. But that didn’t mean that he was walking into the relationship because he wanted something to distract him from it. He walked into the relationship because he thought that it was time and he found the perfect golden girl for him. The room was filled with the humming of heater and sniffles from her. “Why don’t you tell me that you feel that way?” His features soften when she saw her shrugged. She looked so lost. “I don’t know. I just-” She was cut off mid-sentence when she felt Harry held her hands. She could see that his eyes were glossy and his cheeks had a tint of red. “You can talk to me. You know that right?” She nodded her head. The beating of her heart started to slow down and her breathing stabilise.

He never knew that she was still very much hesitant about opening up about herself to him. “I’m sorry, Harry. I- I can leave if that’s what you want?” She was standing now, ready for anything that is awaiting to happen. He never thought that she would even consider leaving as an option. “What? No! No! I want you to stay. Do you not want to stay?” The last part came a bit hesitant as he was afraid that she would say yes. What would he do then? His fear of being alone and not being able to love someone, not being able to love her came creeping in. His grip on her hands were tighter, afraid if she would just turn into dust and disappear in front of him. A shocked look was present on her face and she shook her head. “Yes. I mean, no. I want to stay. If you want me too?” “’Course I want you too, love. What makes you think that I don’t want to?” They were closer now, just inches away from each other. “I mean, it had been one sided relationship, isn’t it?” She spoke softly. Harry titled her chin so that he had a clear view of her eyes. “That’s before I know what you feel. Now that I understand a little bit more, it’s not as one sided anymore.” His lips forming an assuring smile for her. Every word laced with affirmation and understanding. She smiled back, relieved that whatever heavy feelings surrounding both of them starting to fade away.

Sensing that she was not tensed as she was before, he pulled her into a hug. Both of them stayed in each other arms for quite some times. “I know I need to open up a bit more. Just- just give me time, okay?” she spoke into his chest, breaking the silence between them. “Whatever you want, love. I’ll be here.” He pulled them apart for a bit, kissing her forehead. He wanted to say that he will lose his way without her and that he doesn’t want to be alone, not without his golden girl. However, he kept the words to himself. Words can only go so far and to make sure this relationship remained strong, both of them have to balance out the giving and receiving scale. And he believed they will balance it in the near future.

For now, the most important thing is that they are together.

Harry and his sun.

#writings #golden #harry styles #harry styles writings #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction preference #one direction preferences #golden track #fine line album

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Devil in disguise 2/3

Summary: You weren’t the girl who get attention from guys. You were the friend that always ended up alone at the bar, nursing her drink until you got home by yourself, while your friends took home someone. That’s how you suppossed this night would go to. Until an Apple Martini you didn’t order was set down in front of you. Looking around to make out who had ordered it for you, you saw him. John Wick.

Pairing: John Wick / F! Plus size Reader

Wordcount: 4.101

Warnings: smut

A/N: Thank you all so so much for the response to the first chapter. I hope you like the second one as much as the first.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@meetmeinthematinee​ / @hisdeadwife​​ / @fanficsrusz​​ / @mrrightismrreeves​​ / @ladyreapermc​ / @theolsdalova​ / @pinkzsugar​​ /   @ivymiiru​​ / @paanchu786​ / @penwieldingdreamer​ / @greenmanalishi​ / @itsmydreamlifethings​  / @blackeyedangel9805​  / @wiskey-chaser

It was a week later, you were definitely not sleeping in his sweater because you missed him, when there was a knock on your door. It was Saturday morning and you didn't really have plans for this weekend. You hadn't heard from him, or Nadia in fact and if it wasn't for the sweater you were wearing, you would think you dreamed last Friday night. You couldn't stop thinking about him.

His eyes lighting up as he talked about his hobby. Books. The pain as he told you about his ex-fiance, the woman he wanted to get out of this business for. The woman he wanted to marry only to find out that she had been hired by his employer to make him agree to the last thing he had done. Your heart broke for him.

Another knock on your door made you jump.

“Who's there?” You asked.

“It's John.” A voice called back making you almost choke, your eyes wide in surprise as you looked down at the clothes you were wearing.

“I brought breakfast,” he added. Looking around your apartment, you thanked God you had a nightly cleaning session. You looked at yourself in the mirror, as you walked towards the door, your eyes widening, pulling his sweater over your head, throwing it towards your bedroom, straightening the thin tank top you were wearing underneath. Undoing the messy bun you had on the top of your head, you shook your hair and put your glasses straight.

“I wasn't expecting company,” you said, the door still closed in front of you.

“Can you make an exception?” He asked, and you smiled. Slowly you opened the first then the second lock, opening the door.

“How did you find out this was my apartment?” You asked, looking up at him.

“It was the only one without a name on it.” He grinned, looking down at you. You still hid your body behind the door. John was wearing jeans and a gray shirt, a leather jacket over his shoulder and a full bag from a place called Continental on his arm. His hair looked soft, sunglasses on top of his head. It was the complete opposite of his look last week.

“Are you going to invite me in or do I have to eat all that by myself?” He asked sheepishly.

“First I need to change, but please come in.” You opened the door and waited for him to step through it, closing it after him.

“The kitchen is the last door on the left side.” You said quietly, admiring how his back stretched his shirt. He turned around, his eyes wandering over your whole body, making you bite your bottom lip before his eyes were on yours again.

“Hey.” He smiled, stepping closer to you.

“Hey,” you whispered as he leaned down, finding your lips in a soft kiss that made your breath hitch.

“I'm gonna...” you stuttered, gesturing towards your bedroom. Grinning he nodded before he turned around and walked to your kitchen.

You found him trying to work your coffee machine when you got back to the kitchen. You had put on your favorite sweater dress and some fluffy socks. You had no idea what the day would bring now that John was here, but you had intended to spend your whole day studying for one of your exams next week.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, making him jump.

“I wanted to make coffee...”

“The machine is broken.” You giggled, making him sigh as he chuckled and shook his head.

“How do you drink coffee then?”

“I don't. I stopped last year. I have a huge collection of tea though.”

“Tea it is then.” He smiled.

“So John... What have you been up to since last week?” You asked, suppressing a moan as you took a bite from the french toast he had brought. He had brought a very big collection of all the breakfast dishes you loved. French toasts, Pancakes, Sandwiches, Waffles and Eggs... 10 people could eat from that alone.

“Your friend Nadia...”

“Oh, she's not my friend anymore,” you interrupted him.

“Thank God.” He laughed.

“Well, I brought her home and picked up my last check from her father. And after that, I have tried to figure out what to do with my life now that I can choose what to do.” He said.

“And have you come to any conclusion?”

“Not really. I bought a house a little outside of New York I wanted to live in with... Anyway, now that that's not happening I'm thinking of maybe leaving the country... But to be honest I have no idea. I don't know how to live outside of this... world.” He sighed.

“John, how long have you been doing... what you're doing?” You asked.

“Since I was 15... which would be almost 35 years.” He said after a while. Looking at him you didn't know what shocked you more. That he had been... killing people for 35 years or that he was 50 years old.

“Wow... Okay, I need to process this. You are 50 years old? No way.” You said. Shyly he looked at you before he nodded. “Well not yet. My birthday is in 6 weeks.”

“Still. How do you do it?” You reached out stroking his cheek.

“I don't think about it very much?”

“You're 24 years older than me...” you said quietly.

“Is that a problem?” He asked.

“I don't know,” you said honestly. Because you didn't. The only relationship you ever had was with a man your age. And it didn't end well...

“I can understand that.”

“But maybe we can find out? I like you, John. Despite everything you have told me last week, I like you and I want to find out if this could be something.” You shrugged nervously. “I mean if you want to. I still don't know why me in the first place, but...” You were interrupted by his lips on yours.

“I like you too.” He smiled against your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Why else would I drive to see you on a Saturday morning with so much food I could feed an army because I didn't know what you liked most?” He asked.

“John?” It was the same day, dinner time and John had stayed the whole day. You would have loved to go out with him, but you really had to study. He was perfectly fine with it, sitting next to you for the most time, reading a book he had picked from one of your shelves, his arms around your shoulders, making it hard for you to concentrate on anything but him, but you did manage. He had announced an hour ago that he was to cook dinner and had left with your key to buy some groceries.

“I brought you some brain food,” he said as he walked in, his arms loaded with bags to the kitchen and came back with a muffin, kneeling down in front of you.

“Has anyone ever told you that you're pretty perfect, Mr. Wick?” You smiled.

“No one,” he said.

“Well then let me be the first,” you said, taking the muffin to set it down next to you on the couch before you wrapped your arms behind his neck.

“Give me another week and I'm pretty sure you'll be over me,” he said.

“I don't think so,” you whispered, leaning into him as you kissed him. Moaning against his lips, as you felt his tongue brushing over your lips, you parted your lips, letting him push you against the couch, both of his hands on the headrest as he deepened the kiss. Out of breath, you looked up at him, his lips flushed, his hair in front of his eyes.

“I'm going to make dinner now,” he whispered.

Nodding slowly you bit your lip as he slowly pushed himself up, walking out of the living room. Sighing you rolled your eyes. How were you supposed to think of anything but his lips now?

John coming over on Saturdays kinda became a weekly occasion. Your last exams were coming up and you were stressing out. So John made it his goal to take care of you.

He even quizzed you when you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown, rewarding you with kisses that stole your breath, making you crave for more. What made it all weirder for you was that he didn't expect anything in return. He seemed to want to take care of you, making sure to always be there for you.

You never had someone in your life who took care of you like John did. It still was a mystery to you what he was seeing in you. The chubby medical student. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable in your body. It was the way other people looked at you when you wore a dress that was a little shorter. When you were buying chocolate at the grocery store as if it would be a crime.

You loved your body, as long as you were by yourself. It was the outside world that made you think as if something was wrong with you. They didn't know you had danced ballet for most of your life. Even now when you had the time. Or that you hit the gym twice a week. All they saw was a few pounds where they weren't supposed to be, giving them the imaginative right to judge you.

But then there came John. Who saw you for what you were, not for how you looked. And you were falling for him. Hard. And there was nothing you could do against it.

It was the week before your final exam, you had been working 20 hours shifts at the hospital when John called you in the middle of the night, out of breath, his voice strained.

“Are you okay, John?” You asked sleepily, looking at the clock. 3:28 am.

“I'm sorry to wake you. I didn't know who else to call.”

“It's okay. Did something happen?” You sat yourself up, reaching for the lamp on your nightstand.

“I'm not sure. Dog hasn't been on his feet the whole day and she hasn't eaten and I'm getting a bit worried.”

“You have a dog?” You asked surprised, searching for your glasses.

“I do.”

“Has she been drinking?”

“I don't think she did.” He sounded worried.

“Hm... I don't know enough about dogs to tell you if you should be worried. There is a pet clinic down the street where I live that is opened around the clock if you want to be sure.”

“Okay. I'm going there now,” he said.

“Uh. Okay. Good. I'll meet you there,” you said right away.

“You don't have to.”

“I want to, John.”

There was a pause on the phone before he sighed.

“Okay. I'll need an hour.”

“Meet you there.” You said and ended the call.

An hour later you found yourself in front of the pet clinic, you had put on some sweatpants and a hoodie, your hair in a messy bun when you saw John's car approaching the building. He got out, quickly kissing you as you met him at his car, before he opened his passenger's door, carrying out a beautiful gray pit bull.

“Oh, she looks sleepy.” You said, carefully reaching to stroke her head.

“I know. That's what worries me.”

“Let them take a look.” You said, opening the door to the pet clinic for him.

“See? She's going to be okay.” You said, putting your arm around John's waist, your head on his shoulder, as you waited for Dog to be finished. She was getting an infusion of fluids and a shot of antibiotics.

“Thank God.” He whispered exhausted.

“Do you want to stay over? You don't have to drive back home. That way if something else is up with her we are right around the corner.” You proposed. He looked at you.

“You have your exam in two days, I don't want to get on your nerves.” He said.

“I wouldn't have offered, if you would, John. I would check in on your hourly anyway, so you're really doing me a favor here.” You winked at him and yawned in the next moment making him chuckle.

“Come on. I'll take you home.” He finally said, kissing your temple as he saw his dog slowly walking towards him on her own feet.

After you had put out some blanket for Dog to lie on, you made your way back to your bedroom getting your clothes off on your way. You had left your tank top and shorts on beneath, and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Snuggling into your bed you sighed.

“John?” You called for him and heard him coming nearer.

“Yeah?”

“Are you coming? I'm dead tired.” You asked.

“I can take the couch.” He said. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked at him confused.

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn't want to assume...”

“Come here, John.” You smiled. He turned the lights off behind him, took his jeans off and slipped under the covers next to you. You snuggled to his body immediately, sighing when you felt his arms around you, pulling your closer, your head resting on his chest.

“Do you have to get up early?” John asked.

“I have the next two weeks off...” You whispered, eyes already closed.

“Good.” He whispered, kissing your hair before both of you fell asleep.

You woke to someone kissing your neck, your back pressed against a warm body. Sighing you tilted your head, making him chuckle behind you.

“Good morning.” His raspy deep voice whispered against your ear.

“Hm...” You smiled pushing your body against his as you stretched, making him moan as your ass rubbed against his growing bulge, making you gasp.

“What time is it?” You ask.

“It's almost 11. I was already out with Dog.” He said, feeling his big hand ran down your side, resting on your upper thigh.

“And what do we do with this young day?” You ask, moaning as his other hand sneaked under your top.

“We could stay in bed...” He suggested his hand grabbing one of your boobs, making you groan.

“What has gotten into you?” You ask.

“Too fast?” He asked.

“God no.” You laughed and turned around to look at him.

“You have been nothing but a gentleman the last... 6 weeks. I can live with a bit faster.” You said, your hands resting on his naked chest. Your finger tracing one of his many tattoos. His hair was still damp, he must have been in the shower before he got back to bed.

“Careful what you ask for, Princess...” He whispered, turning your body, so you were on your back. He leaned above you, his weight resting on both of his arms next to your head as he leaned down and kissed you hard, pressing his body against yours.

“Princess?” You asked as he left your lips and kissed your neck.

“I still don't know your name.” He smiled against your skin, his beard lightly scratching, making you shudder. Slowly he pulled off your top, throwing it away as he knelt between your legs. As he looked at you you felt shy all of a sudden. There he was, a dream of a man, having eyes for no one else but you. Shaking your head you smiled shyly, looking away from him.

“If you don't want to...” John said.

“Kiss me.” You whispered, pushing yourself up to sit, your chest against his.

“Please.” You added looking up at him. You felt his arms coming around you, keeping you close to him as he carefully kissed you. Bringing your arms around him, holding onto him as he stole your breath you whimpered when you felt him bite your lip.

“Fuck me, John.” You whispered against his lips, making him moan.

“With pleasure, Princess.” He said lowly, his eyes dark.

“John...” You sighed, your nails gently scratching his back, as his hands wandered down your back, grabbing your ass, pushing your body against his.

“On your back, hands above your head.” He whispered demanding, making you swallow.

“Yes, Mr. Wick.” You smirked, letting yourself fall on your back, crossing your arms above your head.

“Keep them there.” He grinned, leaning down, kissing the valley between your breasts.

“Yes, Sir.” You sighed, feeling his warm hands on your hips his fingers slowly pulling your shorts down, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, kneeling between your legs, his eyes roaming over your body. Slowly he leaned down, finding your lips in a kiss before he kissed down your body. You were grabbing the headrest of your bed by now, the urge to touch him becoming overwhelming as he kissed your hipbone. Looking up at you as he lay between your thighs you bit your lip as he put a soft kiss on your clit.

Spreading your legs for him he kissed your outer lips, making you whimper before he ran his tongue through your folds, humming like it was the best thing he tasted in forever as you moaned.

“Fuck John.”

“Not yet.” He grinned, wickedly looking up at you between your thighs before he really got to work. Kissing, nibbling, sucking on your clit while you felt his hand massaging your inner thigh, his hand stopping over your entrance, looking up at you, his mouth sucking hard on your clit as he entered you with one of his fingers. His arm, holding your hip down, pressing it to the mattress you groaned, panting, as he flicked his tongue over your clit, his finger finding that spot inside, you could never reach yourself, making you quiver. Adding a second finger he put pressure on the spot while he sloppily kissed your clit.

“Don't stop...” You moaned, your legs crossing him in.

“Are you close, Princess?” He asked, adding a third finger, replacing his mouth with his thump, rubbing your clit as he leaned up, kissing you. Moaning into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Please...” You moaned against his mouth.

“Please what?” He asked, breathing heavily as he looked at you, leaning over you.

“Please fuck me, John.” You whimpered, rolling your hips against his hand.

“Not yet.” He said again, sucking harshly at one of your nipples.

Throwing your head back you moaned out his name as you were surprised by your orgasm, riding it's waves until you felt your body relax. Out of breath as you looked at him, cleaning his fingers from your arousal, making you bite your lip.

“John?” You asked, making him raise an eyebrow.

“Let me ride you.” You let go of the headrest, pushing against his chest, making him fall on his back, as you straddled his hips. His hands coming down on your thighs with a smack. You moaned leaning down to press your body against his, kissing him hard.

Enjoying the feeling of his strong chest against your breasts you moved your body, your hands sneaking into his tight boxer shorts, gasping as you palmed his big cock.

He helped you as you pulled down his underwear, both laughing as it flew through the room.

Rubbing yourself over his cock both of you moaned, his hands coming to rest on your ass, his hands massaging your skin as he looked up at you, jaw clenched. Eyes dark.

Reaching for his cock you pumped him twice before you raised your hips, lining him up against your entrance and slowly sank down on him, never breaking eye contact, enjoying the feeling of him stretching your inner walls in the best way possible. Moaning when he filled you completely, you stilled, John pushing himself up, one of his arms on your back as his other hand came to rest on your ass, he slowly began to roll his hips, making you whimper.

“You feel so good... wrapped tight around my cock.” He groaned, his lips finding your collarbone, his tongue tracing its line before he kissed the top of your breast, while he kept rolling his hips against yours. Slowly you began to ride him, holding on to his body, as he guided you up and down, sucking on your nipple as you threw your head back.

Putting his face between your hands you guided him up to you, kissing him with a hunger, when he took both of your hands, pulling them behind your back, and holding them there with one hand, making you gasp.

“Let go, Princess.” He whispered as he thrust hard up into you, making you moan out loud as his hips slapped against yours. While he was more or less tying your hands behind your back he leaned his body on his other arm and began to fuck into you roughly, fastening his pace, grunting, while you kept repeating his name like a prayer. You could feel your orgasm building, your knees already shaking.

“Are you gonna come for me again?” He asked low. Not being able to form a single word you only nodded, your little finger brushing over his wrist of the hand that was holding yours behind your back. He let go of his grip, taking your hand into his and watched you with dark eyes as you tried to keep eye contact while your second orgasm made you almost pass out. Whimpering you let him fuck you through it, breathing hard as he slowed his pace, your head falling down on his shoulder. Laughing you looked at him.

“I think I can't feel my legs.” You said.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He grinned smugly.

“You wanna come in my mouth, John?” You leaned close against his ear, feeling him twitch inside you.

“You'll be the death of me.” He moaned as you clenched your muscles around him, making him slap your ass as you laughed and climbed off of him on wobbly limbs.

Kneeling next to him, you took his cock in your hands pumping it a few times before you sucked the tip in, enjoying the taste he left on your tongue. Swallowing him until you almost gagged your bobbed your head, trying to keep a pace as you felt his hands on your head, gathering your hair so he could look at you.

“I'm wanna fuck your pretty mouth one day...” He groaned, watching down at you sucking his cock, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead.

“What's stopping you now?” You asked releasing him with a plop, pumping him with your hand. You reached for his other hand, as you leaned down, looking at him the entire time as you wrapped your mouth around his cock, raising an eyebrow at him. Shaking his head you felt his hips move slowly at first, testing how far he could go, when his hand grabbed your hair harder, pulling it slightly as he continued to move his hips, thrusting into your mouth deeper and deeper, making you gag. Relaxing your throat you rested one of your hands on his hip, in case you had to stop him.

“I'm gonna cum, Princess.” He moaned. You hummed around him, watching him fall apart, tasting the salty bitterness he released, swallowing every single drop of him.

Biting your lip as you released him his arms pulled you up to lay on his chest, his lips finding yours.

“I think I'll keep you.” He said against your lips, pushing your hair out of your eyes, as you entwined your legs with his, enjoying his warm arms around you.

“That's convenient, I wasn't going to let you go.” You breathed back before you let your head rest on his chest.

#fanfic #fanfiction #john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves #devil in disguise

[charlienick]

hi and i love u. "i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth" for the prompts....

Richie has decided that his dream-self can get fucked. And not in the fun way.

When he’s 24, at least once per night, Richie has what he would describe as an erotic nightmare. He never actually has sex in these dreams, nor does he die or even get seriously maimed. But they’re still definitely erotic, and they’re definitely nightmares. 

The first went something like this:

He is tied to a chair. He can’t get up. The rope is chafing his skin. He struggles against the darkness, but he does not move. He can’t. Squinting out into the inky black, he wonders if he’s wearing his glasses. It’s only once he has that thought that he sees a spotlight lighting up his childhood kitchen. His refrigerator has magnets from Acadia National Park, a photo of him and Bill flipping off the camera and laughing, a copy of his sonogram. The sight of it makes him ache in a way he can’t describe, nor does he have time to, because stepping out of the hallway and into the light is his childhood best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie is wearing a cream-colored sweater that he wore a lot in his late-teens and the bright red shorts he was so fond of in middle school. It’s a jarring combination, because Richie never saw him wear those two articles of clothing at the same time, let alone in the same era. He’s picking at a thread spinning loose from the sweater, looking down at it. He bites his bottom lip, and Richie starts to feel nervous, uncomfortable, because whenever he finds himself wishing Eddie were a woman so that it would feel normal for him to want to take his lip between his own, he looks away. Makes a joke. Averts attention from the ache in his heart, in his head, in his jeans.

He can’t do that now. He tries, but he doesn’t succeed. There’s something invisible keeping his head pointed forward. Eddie snaps his eyes up, smirks with the lip still caught in his teeth, and says… something. Richie can’t hear him from so far away, his hearing fuzzy the way his vision always is. The smirk isn’t cruel, isn’t mean or even teasing. Eddie looks proud of himself. He shucks off his sweater in one fluid movement and drops it to the linoleum beneath him. His skin shines golden, and Richie can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s being asphyxiated, and he bucks his hips, turned on and terrified.

And then he wakes up.

Dreams like this have happened almost nightly for months now. Once, it’s Eddie giving him a lap dance while he’s tied to the couch in their apartment. Another time, Bev catches Eddie stripping for him in his bedroom, and her laughter echoes all the way into the waking world. Regardless of the content of his dreams, Richie always remembers them in painstaking detail, and it’s really causing a rift between he and Eddie.

This sucks major donkey dick for three reasons: the first is that Richie is, like, deeply uncomfortable in his own home at all times. He can’t look at Eddie with his feet propped up on the ottoman without remembering how his legs looked wrapped around Richie’s waist, can’t hear his voice without remembering how he sounded moaning Richie’s name. The second reason, of course, is that Eddie is his best friend, and it’s shitty that Richie can’t find comfort in that the way he used to.

The third reason is that Eddie is starting to fucking notice.

He cornered Richie in the kitchen while he was making himself breakfast two mornings ago, and demanded he tell him what he did wrong because he couldn’t stand another weird, uncomfortable second of this weird standstill he and Richie had found themselves in. “What weird, uncomfortable standstill?” Richie had basically responded with, chuckling manically like that wouldn’t be a total tip-off that things were in fact weird and uncomfortable.

He has stopped walking around in his boxers, terrified that he’s going to get a hard-on when Eddie, like, waters the fucking spider plant and his shirt rides up and Richie short-circuits and has a total meltdown.

So he figures he’s attracted to his best friend. So what, he says to himself alone in his bedroom after jacking off the moment he woke up for the fifth day in a row. So I’m attracted to Eddie. Eddie is a pretty boy. This means nothing. I’m still straight.

He considers bringing this up to Stan, because next to Eddie, Stan is his best friend, but Stan would definitely laugh at him and say something like you’re an idiot. Go kiss your roommate and leave me be, which, okay, true, but not necessary. He knows, Brain-Stan! He’s aware the situation is reaching its boiling point! But he can’t exactly fucking tell Eddie, hey, I wanna suck your dick, but no homo, O best friend of mine! Eddie wouldn’t understand that the situation is precariously balanced between Richie’s suppression and the knowledge that Eddie has definitely sucked dick before.

Because Eddie was able to come out after he and the Losers moved from Maine to San Francisco, he has caught some dick regularly for the past six years. He’s pretty, as Richie’s head, heart, and apparently now dick all agree upon, and the four or so men he has in rotation all seem to think so, too. When Eddie would bring home a suitor prior to Richie’s epic sexual breakdown, he would just scamper over to Bev and Ben’s, or go bother Stan, Mike, and Bill at theirs. Now however, because on top of being attracted to his best friend, he’s also a goddamn masochist, and he’s staying holed up in his room listening to Eddie get fucked (or fuck? He isn’t certain on the makeup of his screwings, though not for lack of trying), one hand stripping his dick, feeling like a total and complete asshole. 

Richie knows that one’s sexuality is not always privy to one’s knowledge of whether or not the person would be interested in bedding him or not, and his wild imagination is not totally hinged upon reality. Bev and Ben would definitely not tie him up and have their way with him, but that’s still a familiar fantasy in his spank bank; he knows it will never happen, but it’s called a fantasy for a reason. However, jacking off to the sound of actual-Eddie’s moans and sighs is definitely crossing a line, and he knows it.

So since that one fated, sordid evening, he has decided that he isn’t going to jack off at all until either the dreams stop or he’s able to talk this out with Eddie in a normal way without totally having a mental breakdown.

This was a stupid decision, he decides ten days in, because it seems like the dreams aren’t going to stop and he’s going to have to face this for real or his subconscious might actually eat him alive. He’s not going to give into his libido because his heart is stronger than that. His weak willpower will not be his downfall.

So he decides to talk to Ben, because he’s the least likely to make fun of him about this, and because he might be able to knock some sense into him.

“Wait, you and Eddie aren’t making love already?” Ben’s face screws up in confusion. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, oh? We haven’t ever knocked boots because I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Sorry to inform you, Rich, but having… ‘erotic nightmares’ about your male best friend isn’t exactly heterosexual behavior.” Richie goes to cut in, but Ben holds a hand up. “And what would be so wrong with liking boys? Or liking Eddie?” Richie snaps his mouth shut. “Eddie is the best. You love Eddie as a friend, right?”

“Totally, yeah, I mean, yeah!” Richie rambles, nodding violently.

Ben smiles patiently, “So what would be so bad about loving him all the way?”

“I… I didn’t know… I mean, I’ve had sex with girls. It just doesn’t light a fire under my dick the same way this seems to. He’s so pretty, and I don’t quite know how to go back to seeing him the way I used to now that I see him so clearly. It’s like I’ve been looking at him without my glasses on my whole life, and now everything is so much less fuzzy. Like I understand it better now.” His eyes widen as the silence stretches on, Ben smiling softly the whole time. “I mean, uh, you know, he could hop on my dick and I wouldn’t say no. Then I’d have fucked the whole Kaspbrak clan.”

Ben’s nose wrinkles in distaste, so he doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “Tell him, Richie. I promise it won’t go badly.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to fuck me back?”

“You really think all this is is sex, Richie?” Ben asks quietly. He offers him another smile, an encouraging one this time, “And I already promised—it won’t go badly.”

So Richie decides, fuck it. He’ll tell Eddie tomorrow.

But then he wakes up in a cold sweat from tonight’s newest erotic nightmare, this time leaning more heavily on the nightmarish aspect than the erotic, and he decides tomorrow can’t wait. Tonight. He’s doing this right now, because he can’t stand another moment not being close to Eddie.

He puts on his glasses, pads out of his room and knocks softly on Eddie’s door. “Eds? You up?” Silence. He knocks a bit harder. “Eddie?” He hears Eddie sniff harshly from inside his room, and something knocks loudly. “Eds? You okay?”

“Mmph,” comes Eddie’s muffled reply. “Come in, you dick.”

Richie smiles and does as he’s told. He can see Eddie relatively clearly through the slats in the blinds open to the moon high above them. He’s rubbing the side of his head, his hair a total mess, his shirt rumpled, his frown intense, and Richie realizes, fuck, I love this angry little goblin. Jesus Christ, I love him.

“Hitting your head on the headboard is way less fun when you’re by yourself,” he grumbles. He wraps an arm around his knees and tilts his head. “What’s up at… 3:50 AM?”

“I…” Richie breathes out unsteadily. He decides to go with the truth: “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie frowns, pulling back the blankets. “You wanna cuddle?”

Richie nods dramatically and pitches himself into Eddie’s bed, immediately wrapping himself around Eddie. Eddie snorts, laughs quietly, and turns in Richie’s hold, slotting their thighs together so they’re facing one another. “Dick. You know I don’t like to be the little spoon, ‘specially with you and your newborn-deer limbs.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once, Spaghetti?” Richie smiles, but he’s really only teasing; he’s just fine with this.

“So long as you tell me what the dream was about.” Richie tenses in Eddie’s hold, thinking, shit, I really should’ve assumed he’d ask. “I mean, if you want. But until you tell me, I demand to be the big spoon.”

Richie sighs, turning in Eddie’s hold only because it’ll be easier to say it if he isn’t looking right at him. “So I’ve been having these… we’ll call them erotic nightmares.”

“That sounds like a term you thought of weeks ago and are very proud to finally get the chance to utter.”

“Die.” Eddie snorts. “Actually, don’t-don’t do that,” Richie whispers, “please don’t die.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says, sounding like he’s about to laugh but trying not to. “Was that what the dream was about tonight? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”

“Sort of, yeah. You were, uh, you were on top of me, and you… I didn’t even see it coming. Your heart, it was… I don’t even think it could ever happen in real life.”

Eddie slips a hand beneath Richie’s shirt, cupping his hip bone and rhythmically running his thumb in the hollow between it and his stomach. “It didn’t happen, Rich. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Richie breathes out, less shaky this time, and nods. “Okay.”

A long pause, and then, “You said these nightmares, they’re erotic.” Richie’s blood runs cold. Fuck, he didn’t want this to be how he said it. “Is that why I was on top of you?”

“Sort of,” Richie whispers. “Yeah.”

“Like… Like this?” Eddie dislodges his thigh out from between Richie’s and hooks it over his hips, forcing him to lay flat on the bed. Eddie hovers over him, eyes dark and electric in the moonlight. He looks ethereal, holy, and nothing like he did in the dream. “What happens next? When I’m above you like this?”

“It’s different every time,” Richie says all in one breath. Eddie’s boxer shorts are hanging and brushing against the tops of Richie’s thighs. He feels a light breeze away from spontaneously combusting. “Sometimes you dance for me.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, laughing quietly, “I can’t dance.”

“I know that, but my dreams don’t.” Eddie smile drops in an instant.

“What else?”

“Sometimes you hold me down⁠—”

Richie cuts himself off with a gasp when Eddie nudges Richie’s hands out from where they’re balled in Eddie’s sheets and presses them down to the bed beside his head. “Like this?” Richie chokes, nodding. He can’t say anything. He can hardly breathe. “What’s next, Richie?”

“You-you grind on me ‘til you—oh, holy shit.” Eddie swivels his hips in a tight circle against Richie’s dick, both of them already hard.

“Yeah? You been dreamin’ of me like this, Rich? How long?”

“What?”

“How long,” he grinds down low, and Richie moans, “have you,” he does it again, and Richie gasps, keening loudly, “been dreaming of me? Because I’ve been dreaming of you for years, Rich.”

“Motherfucking tap-dancing Jesus, you have?” Richie demands.

“Of course I have. Sometimes, when I bring a boy home, I pretend he’s you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Sometimes I accidentally say your name.”

Richie bucks his hips, feeling wild, caged. “Eddie, please, I need—”

“What do you want, Rich? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Kiss me.” And he does. It’s everything and nothing like Richie dreamed it would be. It’s hot, searing, Eddie’s mouth a brand against his own, but the way Eddie is licking into his mouth feels nothing like he dreamed it would. It feels like he just wants to take care of Richie; he really wants to give Richie everything he asks for, and Richie feels drunk with the power-rush that brings. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Eddie Kaspbrak wants to give him what he asks.

“Eddie,” he pants, and Eddie immediately pulls away, eyes liquid as they rake over Richie’s chest, still covered in his shirt. The light weight of it is suddenly stifling. “Please take off my shirt.”

“Of course, baby,” Eddie murmurs, unlocking their fingers and helping Richie sit up so he can do as he’s asked. “That better, angel?”

“Oh my God,” Richie whines, nodding. “This is so hot.”

Eddie smiles, “I agree. You’re definitely as beautiful as I dreamed you’d be.”

“You dreamed about me, too?” Richie sighs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the thought of Eddie stripping his dick to the girls Richie’s brought home.

“Of course, Richie,” Eddie responds, hushed as he maps out Richie’s torso with the palms of his hands. One of his thumbs catches on Richie’s nipple, and he hisses, then gasps when he does it again. “Sometimes it’s sex dreams, like yours, but sometimes I dream you take me out to eat, or to the movies. Once, I dreamed you asked me to marry you and I woke up crying.”

“Eddie,” Richie says, all broken into pieces, jagged edges that sound serrated. “I would. You know I would, right?”

Eddie smiles softly, leaning over Richie and lacing their fingers back together, but the weight of Eddie on top of him doesn’t feel so suppressive anymore. It’s a comfort. It’s everything he could never admit to wanting. “I do now.”

He captures Richie’s mouth again, kisses that fall over him like stars, like meteorites, planets exploding behind his eyelids and pop rocks fizzing in his blood. He’s a shaking mess by the time Eddie pulls back again, kissing his neck and then sucking a mark into his collarbone, to his pulse point. He feels ready to burst, nearing absolute explosion.

“I want to fuck you, Richie,” Eddie says against his skin, and Richie moans to the ceiling, eyes rolling back in his head. “I want to fuck you, but I need to know this isn’t a one time thing. I won’t be my best friend’s sexual experiment, and I won’t be your fuck buddy. I can’t.”

“Eddie, I… look at me, please look at me,” Richie begs, unlacing their fingers and cupping Eddie’s cheeks. He looks terrified, ready to work himself into a panic attack, so Richie says, “I want to fuck you too, but more than that, I want to fuck your heart.”

Eddie snorts and goes boneless, his forehead knocking into Richie’s chin. “I hate you so much. I can’t believe you just said you want to fuck my heart, that’s so gross, what does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Richie says, proud that he managed to distract Eddie from the burgeoning panic. “I want to fuck your heart.”

“No, I want to fuck your heart,” Eddie shoots back, frowning intensely. Richie’s responding smile is blinding.

“We’re heart-switches.”

“This is the worst day of my life.”

“Sure, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds in bed! I’m outlawing all nicknames when we’re hard, it’s uncouth!”

“What about…” Richie runs the tip of his nose over the thin skin of Eddie’s neck, “baby?”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, elbows buckling where he’s holding himself over top of Richie, “baby’s good.”

“Yeah?” Richie smiles, hooking his hands up under Eddie’s shirt and bunching it under his arms. “What about angel, my love, is that one okay?”

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie whines, falling down to his elbows and crushing Richie as he laughs, “you can’t use my weak heart against me.”

“Weak?” Richie smiles against Eddie’s skin, feeling more at home than he ever has in his life. “Nah. I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Richie…” Eddie smiles, embarrassed, and leans up to kiss him again, which is fine with Richie, because he’s embarrassed, too. Thank god for erotic nightmares, Richie thinks as he cups Eddie’s hip and licks into his mouth, finally free, finally alive.

#ask #michelllejones #richie tozier #reddie #it chapter two #what is this!!!!! #masterpost #greatest hits

[marvelsassbutts]

Silences

   Link on AO3!

     It’s strange having to get used to peace. To a quiet hallway, a filling dinner. A hand resting in your own. More than anything though, it’s strange having to get used to a bed; specifically the comfort of one.

    Sleep was never a comforting experience for Catra though. If anything, sleep was a moment between rage and chaos, plagued by its own grueling nightmares. Sleep, in her experience, did not guarantee peace. Sleep was another thing to get used to.

    Catra stretches out over the bed for the tenth time in the past few minutes, back on a downward slope, knees tucked beneath her, and her claws tearing up a different section of the comforter. She curls her body in on itself and shuts her eyes, afraid that if she keeps them open she will actually see herself sinking into the mattress which would only further her aggravation and, by default, her inability to go to sleep.

    “This is ridiculous,” she grumbles as she sits up for the eleventh time that night. “Stupid bed in stupid Bright Moon.” Catra picks up a pillow and slams it down on the mattress. As she goes about “fluffing” it each word is punctuated with a punch. “Stupid! Princess! Comfort!” Catra throws her body down, landing face down on the pillow, and screams. “What’s the point?”

    When Catra sits up again it comes with a purpose. A purpose to find comfort and if that cannot be achieved then to at least go somewhere to complain about it. So, naturally, her purpose forms into leaving her bedroom to make the short trip across the hall to Adora’s.

    When she steps out of her room she’s hit immediately by the silence of the corridors. No distant sounds of dripping water from loose pipes, no slamming steel doors as soldiers make their nightly patrol. No shadows hissing just inches from her ears and consuming her into the darkness of an unfortunate night.

    There’s only the peaceful kind of silence.

    And Catra’s not used to it.

    She scampers across the small distance between her door and Adora’s and opens it carefully, thankful for Bright Moon’s interior upkeep that prevents any sort of creaking that would have been customary in the Fright Zone, and shuts it behind her once inside, her full body against it as she cranes her neck to see Adora sleeping in her bed, her body almost entirely consumed by the mattress.

    “Adora,” Catra whispers and takes a step forward when she doesn't move. “Hey, Adora,” she whispers again, this time letting her voice sound a little stronger. Again, Adora doesn’t move and Catra walks more fully into the room, her eyes ignoring the leftover battle plans and breakdowns tacked to the walls as they remain trained only on Adora.

    Catra stands over Adora and leans forward. “Adora…. Adora, wake up.” Adora continues to sleep or continues to be dead seeing as both would make sense for how much she was moving. “Adora, get up,” Catra demands, no longer interested in waking her up with a kind voice. Catra leans forward more and shakes Adora’s body once…twice…seventeen times. “Adora, come on!” Catra moves to place her knee on Adora’s bed and lifts the rest of her body with it. As soon as Adora sinks (more than she already has) her body shoots up and her hand swipes a strike across Catra’s face.

    Catra shrieks and jumps back to the foot of Adora’s bed, her hand cradling the side of her face.

    “Catra? Catra! Ooo! Ooo! I’m sorry!”

    “What was that for?!”

    “I’m still a little jumpy from everything! I couldn’t tell if it was you or a clone or-”

    “And slapping is the best defense you can think of?!” Catra snarls as she rubs against the side of her face. “You can say six words and become basically invincible but you chose to slap me?”

    “It got you to back off didn’t it?”

    Catra groans to herself and tucks her legs up against her body, her tail wrapping itself around them as the end of it flicks back and forth. Sitting in her brooding state, Catra notices the unmistakable feeling of her body sinking into the plush around her. She grumbles unintelligibly and crosses her arms.

    This bed is just as bad as the last one.

    The bed dips again, not from Catra’s weight, but from the movement of someone else’s as Adora crawls her way over to Catra and places a hand on the side of her face that had recently been slapped.

    Alright, maybe not just as bad.

    Adora squints, using the lone glow of the moonlight to inspect the slightly rumpled fur on Catra’s left cheek. Adora brushes a thumb over it and sweeps her view from the reddened spot to Catra’s eyes and back again. “I’m sorry, Catra,” she leans forward and kisses the spot and Catra’s nerves come to life with the sensation. Oh right, she thinks as her tail ceases its flicking and instead wraps itself lightly around Adora’s lowered wrist, we can do that now.

    Catra smiles and leans forward enough to rest her forehead against Adora’s. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten worse from you before, right?”

    Catra can feel Adora’s eyebrows furrow against her forehead.

    When Adora pulls back Catra frowns at the loss of contact. Her tail loses its grip on Adora’s wrist and she’s left feeling horribly alone. Isolated once again from the one person that holds her happiness and responsible for depriving that same person of her own happiness. Catra can’t ignore the way Adora’s shoulders have slumped forward and how her eyes have moved slowly down from looking into Catra’s, to staring at her cheek, to going over each inch of her body that suffered injury from her, to finally resting on her own hands which were open and limp in her lap.

    Catra’s ears flatten at the sight of Adora’s upset.

    “I’m sorry-”

    “It’s okay, Catra,” Adora interjects and Catra wants to believe it’s true but the sad, almost forced smile that Adora tries to push onto her face makes Catra understand that it’s not. That her words sliced a lot deeper than she intended them to and she was at a loss for what to do next.

    The silence between them stretches on for a millenia, maybe two, and the whole time Catra’s eyes stay fixed on her tail and the lack of its encircling around anything.

    “What are you doing up so late?” Catra looks up and sees Adora’s sadness has been replaced with concern and she uses it as an opportunity. Catra crawls across the mattress, across the distance between them and buries her head in Adora’s chest. Adora adjusts her body as the rest of Catra makes its way over. She opens her legs and moves her arms out of the way to allow for the rest of Catra’s body to be compact and comfortable between her thighs. Catra sits in that position for a moment, a beat long enough to give the rest of her apology, to let Adora know that she knows that she’s safe with her. That her body, her essence, her aura, her everything is a home now. A haven.

    Adora raises her hands to Catra’s head and scratches behind her ears.

    “My bed’s too soft,” Catra mumbles into Adora’s chest and is rewarded with the sound and feeling of Adora’s laughter.

    “Yeah, it’s the worst,” she says and lets a hand slip down to Catra’s neck. “I had that same problem when I got here.”

    Catra pulls back to look Adora in the eyes. She’ll later tell herself it was to make sure Adora wasn’t lying for her sake; anything to avoid admitting she just missed Adora’s eyes. She’s not used to being allowed to miss things like that. Not yet. “Really?”

    “Mmhm. Bed too soft, no one at the foot of it to keep my feet warm.”

    Catra’s ears perk up at the confession and her lips tug themselves into a small, embarrassed smile.

    “You’re blushing.”

    “I am not!” Catra defends but still lowers her head to Adora’s shoulder to avoid having her face looked at anymore.

    Adora laughs again, this one sounding more childlike and teasing. She knows she has the upperhand and with one quiet snort the laugh starts bordering on a giggle. She sits up again and looks Adora in her eyes.

    “You missed that, huh?”

    Adora grins. “Just on the especially cold nights.” The admission of only sometimes missing Catra causes her to frown and pull back from Adora. “Every other night I wanted you up here.”

    Adora lays down, pulling Catra with her so that her body ends up on top of hers, her head tucked under her chin.

    Catra blushes again but allows for it because she knows Adora can’t see it.

    “You can sleep here. I’m not as soft as the bed.”

    “No kidding,” Catra responds as her tail skirts itself over one of Adora’s biceps before wrapping itself around it. She laughs when Adora flexes and moves her tail under her nose until she giggles and swats it away to let it return to its position around her arm.

    “Get some sleep, Catra,” Adora whispers and presses another kiss to the top of her head. “You have years to make up for.”

    “Try not to trash around too much, Princess, I don’t wanna go flying.”

    Adora snorts,“You’d better hang on.”

    Catra smiles and does the best she can to wrap her arms around Adora’s body.

    Adora wraps her own around Catra and mumbles an, “I got you,” into her hair. Only a minute later her words are replaced by soft snores and Catra is left alone with the room and its silence.

    The kind of silence that is underscored by the sound of a heartbeat and the steady vibrato of a purr. The kind that comes from being body to body, skin to skin, heart to heart with someone you love. Someone you’ve waited for. Someone you’ll have forever with.

    The peaceful kind of silence.

#the way in which catradora got me to start writing again #ugh lesbians #catra x adora #she-ra #she-ra and the princesses of power #catradora #catradora fic #fluff woohoo!

[let-me-luve-you]

Comforting Hands

Christian Pulisic x Reader

Summary: Christian is having a tough time and sometimes it’s the little things that help.

MASTERLIST

Christian has had the worst week. He scored an own goal on Sunday that cost Chelsea the game. He remembered that he wasn’t going to get to see his family on Christmas. He was late to training on Tuesday. He couldn’t sleep Wednesday night. USMNT called and said they were moving camp up a few days early. That now cuts his visit home short to only 1 full day. You had been gone for work for the week and weren’t scheduled to come home until after the game Saturday night.

Christian has talked to you about all of his struggles and failures. He has vented to you almost every night when you do your nightly calls. He was on the verge of a breakdown and that worried you.

You finished your meeting early on Friday and headed straight for the airport. You had been in America for your job. You are a part of a marketing team for a high end London outdoor business. You had to travel every couple of months to new location to shoot for ads, commercials, and social media content. You landed in London at 5 pm and knew you could still make it to the game. You weren’t originally supposed to land until 1130 pm so surprising Christian was going to be exciting.

You arrived to the game just as the game started. You sat in your seat wearing your blue jersey Christian gave you. All the other girlfriends and wives surrounded you. Since the game was moving slow, you all decided to catch up since it had been awhile since everyone was together. In the 65th minute, you saw a chance for Chelsea to score. You stood up with the rest of the crowd as Christian crossed it in to Tammy who headed the ball into the cross bar. Mason was right behind him to finish it and put the boys in blue on top 1-0. Shortly after, Christian missed a tackle and Liverpool got an equalizer. You could see Christians shoulders drop. He was disappointed in himself and pissed. In the 80th minute Lampard subbed Christian off. You could tell Christian wanted to play the full 90 to make up for his mistake. Knowing Christian was going to be upset when he got home, you decided to leave early and head home to surprise Christian.

On the way home you stopped at Mestizos and picked up an order of Tacos and Christians favorite burrito. Even though he was in season and would probably grab food from the teams chef, you decided cheating every once in a while didn’t do any harm.

When you got to yours and Christians shared apartment, you sat the food on the counter and took your bags into your shared room. You sat your bags in the corner of the room out of the way to be unpacked later. You added extra pillows to the bed and extra blankets. You grabbed Christians XBOX controller off of the charger and put it on his night stand as well as his head set. The lights you hung before you left were now turned on and add a soft, calm lighting to the room. You decided to change out of your jeans and into a pair of shorts and threw your hair into a messy bun.

When you walked into the kitchen to warm up your food, you heard a key in the lock. Christian walked in and looked around the apartment before sighing. He turned to walk towards the kitchen and that was when he saw you. He immediately dropped his bag and wrapped you in a hug and buried his face in your neck. You immediately hugged him back and whispered sweet words in his ear. After standing there for a couple of minutes, Christian pulled away and a gave you a small smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you”

“I miss you too Christian” you smiled at him. “I have the perfect night planned for us to help you relax and take your mind off of everything.”

Christian looked at you confused. And then looked at the food next to him.

“Is that Mestizo?”

“It is. I picked it up after I left the game. I figured after the week you had, some good food may be good for the soul.”

He gave a small laugh before grabbing his food and giving you a kiss on the cheek. You both moved to sit on the stools next to the counter.

“Did you say you went to the game?”

“I did. I made it there at kickoff. I finished earlier than planned and decided to come home and surprise you”

“It was a much needed surprise. Thank you babe.”

You smiled at him. Conversation stayed flowing as Christian talked about the game and his frustrations and how he’s worried with the week he’s had, he’s going to lose his starting spot. You listened to him and gave advice and encouragement where needed. You just never gave him the false hope of “don’t worry. You won’t lose your spot.” You always kept it real with him. You told him “if you lose your spot, you just keep fighting back for it. Everyone is allowed to have bad days/weeks. For you, it was just an off week. You take tonight and tomorrow to relax and reset. Take a mental and physical break and go back at it Monday morning at training.” Christian looked at you like he wanted to believe you, but he couldn’t fully do that with the negativity still surrounding his thoughts.

“I have a surprise for you now. Come on.” You grabbed Christians hand and lead him to the bedroom. You smiled at him and told him to change into something more lazy. He turned and went into the closest as you went and sat in the center on the bed to lounge against all the pillows you had put down earlier. Christian came back in the room with shorts on and no top. You held your hands out to him and did the grabby hand signal. He sat on the edge of the bed before you opened your legs for him to sit between them. You handed him his controller and headset and had fortnite on the screen. He smiled at you and gave a small laugh before kissing you softly and thanking you. He layed back against your chest as your wrapped arms around him.

As time went on and Christian played his game, you could feel the tenseness leave his body. You cuddled him and traced his tattoos as he played. At some point you both ended up layed down and it was the perfect position for you the comfortably run your hand through his hair. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been doing it. It had to be at least 20 minutes. Christian finally got to a stopping point and turned off the game before throwing the controller and headset to the side before turning to you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Thank you for tonight. Thank you for listening. Giving great advice. For comforting me when I’m down. For laying here watching me play video games. Thank you for just being here and being you. I love you and appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.” He smiled at you before leaning in and capturing your lips again. The kiss was soft, sweet, and he put all of his love into this kiss.

“Christian, I’ll be with you always. Whenever you need me, I’ll always be right here.” You intertwined your fingers with his before pulling him to you to cuddle. He buried his face into your neck before sighing hard. “Go to sleep love. We can relax and decompress some more tomorrow.”

With a final kiss the his forehead, you both fell into a peaceful sleep. One Christian hadn’t had in a week.

Hey guys! I hope you liked the story! I don’t usually write fan fics. I usually just read them but I got this idea and had to put it to words. I’m sorry if the writing was horrible. I’ve never been the best with words.

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic blurbs

[dramaqueeenamby]

Waves [drabbles]

A/N: Literally no one asked for this, but I’ve been writing random ass drabbles in between breakdowns for the past few days so I figured I’d share em. 

Warnings: None

Words: Your guess is as good as mine bruh

Only tagging a few of ya’ll :)

TAGS: @90sinspiredgirl @disneysdarlingdiva @chaddaddybose @ljstraightnochaser @letsshamelessqueen-m @yoyolovesbucky @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @forbeautyandlife @amore-fiore @brittyevans

"Hello, Instagram people."

"Why do you always say that?"

"Say what?"

"Instagram people."

"Because they are the people of Instagram."

"You’re giving me a head-Chris, no!" Summer quickly went to close the bathroom door. "You asshole, I told you not to put me on!"

"Oh, come on," he laughed, standing outside the door as he flipped the camera back to selfie mode. "She’s a little shy."

"I’m not shy. I’m half naked, you moron!"

"Missed you too, baby." He laughed at the tremble of the door from her aggravated kick. "Come on, July, you look fine."

Summer opened the door, her hair pinned to the top of her head with a hair tie, towel wrapped around her body, and an Oatmeal mask on her face.

"Instagram people, Christopher is an asshole who forever keeps the toilet seat up on purpose."

"Lies. That was only one time."

"Yeah. Times fifty," Summer hissed, going back to her nightly routine. "And get that damn camera off of me, I’m not going to ask again."

Chris shook his head. "Do you all see how cruel she is to me?"

"I am not!"

"She’s a real-life bully. No one likes her on set. They’re all scared of her if you really want to know the truth."

"Yeah. Your ass is sleeping on the couch tonight."

His mouth dropped as he let out an elongated, "wow."

"This is why I like it better when you’re gone."

"Well. You heard it, everyone. She wants nothing to do with me. I guess I’m a single man now-"

"Don’t make me fight you."

"Always with the violence. Really, June, is all of this necessary?"

"Call me another damn month, and you’ll find out."

———

"You’re a very busy man."

"I am."

"Not too busy to make a child, apparently."

"Never too busy for that." He winked.

Ellen stiffed her laughter. "No, really though, congratulations. For those of you who live under a rock, Chris and his beautiful wife are expecting a baby, or, babies, really, this summer. " The audience clapped as a screenshot of Chris’s Instagram post confirming the pregnancy showed on the screen.

"There she is."

Ellen chuckled. "There she is indeed. Now she’s gone, right? She’s no longer doing press tours?"

"Yeah, she’s actually at the airport now. The doctors have advised against unnecessary traveling so any press stuff she does will be from home."

"Oh, how convenient," Ellen joked with a straight face as Chris played along.

"Same thing I said." He rubbed at his arm. "She’s very convincing if I’m being honest."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well, you see the wedding band."

"So you’re saying she coaxed you into marrying her?"

"Shh. She has ears everywhere."

"More like I’m everywhere."

Chris turned around, the audience cheering as Summer walked onto the stage with her arms crossed.

"Honey."

"Nu uh. Don’t honey me now." Chris stood up, walking toward her, wrapping his long arms around her. "Finish what you were saying. I tricked you into marrying me-"

"And convinces Marvel to let me off of promo," Ellen chimed, earning a smile from Summer.

"This is why I love Ellen," she giggled, pushing her husband out of the way to hug the hostess before the three of them sat down.

"Did you miss your flight?" Chris asked, ignoring the side eye Summer was sending his way as he knew it was all in jest.

"Don’t try to be nice to me now."

"Okay. Wrong show guys. Dr. Phil is the next lot over." The couple shared a laugh. "So, you guys are having twins, a boy, and a girl, right?"

"Yes."

"How are you going to handle that?"

"Well, lucky I have experience with taking care of children," Summer joked, pointing to her husband before clearing her throat. "No, you know, I don’t know if it’s because I’m simplifying it way too much, but I’m-im nervous, but not as nervous as I thought I’d be."

"Really."

"Yeah, like you have to remember that I’m the youngest of five. Being the only girl in a house full of boys created some experiences that I think well-prepared me," she chuckled. "And Christopher is one of three, again, all boys, so we’re both kinda experienced.

"That’s right. Your brother, Liam, didn’t he throw a knife at you?"

"He did," Chris nodded slowly. "That’s why I threw the ax."

"Stop," Summer laughed, leaning into her husband. "No, I can’t talk. I use to chase my brothers around the house with a bat whenever they made me upset sooo."

Ellen gave a strained smile. "You are you two should be bringing children into the mix?"

"Of course, friendly sibling discourse is good for everyone. It builds character."

"Chris!"

———

"Hello, I’m Chris Hemsworth."

"And I’m Summer Jones Hemsworth, and we’ll be playing ‘how well do you know your significant other?’"

*clips of Summer and Chris joking around at the photoshoot before camera transitions to them sitting across from each other*

"Okay, first question," Summer wiggles her eyebrows, lifting the card so that she could read it. "What was the name of my first pet?"

"Winston. Winston the goldfish who only lived for one day because you overfed and killed him."

Her mouth dropped open. "Now see, no one even told you to say all of that."

"Well, it’s true. Don’t leave your family pets with this one, people. All Fish Go To Heaven is a real thing."

"Fu-"

"What is my favorite pastime activity?"

"Oh, that’s easy, surfing. Well,-" she paused. "Really anything that allows you to be put on the beach."

"Us. Anything that allows us to be out on the beach."

"Yeah," she lifted and rolled her eyes. "He’s always dragging me places with him. So needy."

"Oh hush, you love it."

"Yes, yes, of course," she mouthed ‘’no’ to the camera before shaking her head and going to the next question. "What are some things that help me when I’m not feeling well?"

"Uhhh," he closed one eye, trying to make sure he got it right. "Well, it depends. When you’re, ya know, on your-"

"Period. It’s okay, babe. You can say it."

"-it’s best to leave you the fuck alone for the first two days because you turn into a psychopath."

"He’s not even exaggerating, y’all. I’m either screaming or crying. There’s no in between."

"But when it’s just, ya know, a regular sickness, cold, or whatever, you like for me to lay in bed and cuddle with you."

"I do," Summer gleefully lifted her arms as she spoke in a soft voice. "He’s the best cuddle buddy ever."

"Just taking in all of those germs," he muttered and laughed as Summer's smile dropped. "It’s alright. I know you have no consideration for contamination."

"Con-"

"What’s my favorite color?"

"Oh, that’s easy, black." She turned toward the camera and winked. "Obviously."

As she shifted in her seat, her body con skirt moving up her legs, Summer caught her husband staring at her thighs, their eyes meeting as he winked. "Oh my god, next question, uhh, what’s my favorite movie?"

"You have like eighteen, but uhh, the three you watch almost every week: She’s All That, The Lion King, and Poetic Justice."

Summer groaned. "God, love you."

"I love you too, Heatwave."

"I am literally going to choke you in your sleep tonight."

"Ha. That’s cute. She thinks we’re actually going to get any sleep. Not with that skirt. Time for the Thorm children.“

"Christopher!

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x oc #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth oneshot #fic: waves

[agentunwin]

ROSES & CLOVER [FREAK WEEK: DAY 1]

In which the man in the corner with the hands full of sand promises Shawn everything he’s ever wanted, but he gets more than he bargained for.

— A/N: ok i actually kind of hate this bc its not how i really wanted it to turn out but ive been wanting to write this prompt for a long time so here you go happy first day of freak week. This is the first kinda supernatural story for the week :)

— WORDS: 4.5k

— WARNINGS: Angst, cursing, violence, evil!reader(?)

-

Hey, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll try to reach you as fast as I can!

That voicemail. That fucking voicemail.

Shawn was sure that if he had to hear Brian's voice like that one more time, he'd rip his own hair out.

The lonesome boy sighed deeply and rolled over in his bed, setting his phone on his nightstand after his many attempts of contacting his best friend. Pulling his covers further up on his body, he focused his eyes on the ceiling and bit his lip, thinking about nothing and everything all at once.

On nights like these, Shawn hated being alone.

On nights like these, he hated how the stairs of his cold home would creak every time a gust of wind blew by. He hated hearing the sounds of crickets outside, and he absolutely hated the voices inside of his head, screaming at him and clouding his thoughts.

On nights like these, sleep was impossible to get when his mind was moving at incredible speeds- So fast that he couldn't even keep up with his own thoughts.

On nights like these, when he had nobody or nothing to look forward to, he almost always found solace in the tall man in the corner of his room.

The first night he noticed the sand, he didn't think much of it. It was a mere sprinkle on his flooring that he effortlessly swept to the side, the specks settling between the cracks of the hardwood panels. The second night, the sprinkles of sand were more prominent- Spread across his floor once again, and even partially on his bed.

On the third night, footprints made of sand led him to the man.

His figure was giant, towering over Shawn by at least two feet. His long, crooked fingers dripped with the same substance that had trailed throughout the bedroom, which was then pooling around his dress-shoe clad feet. His face was practically impossible to make out, dripping with the sand as well. He said absolutely nothing; only kept staring forward.

The man introduced himself as the Sandman.

Yet for some reason, Shawn wasn't scared.

The two merely coexisted for a long time. Every time Shawn would come home from a hard day at his office, the man was there. He never left the bedroom and sometimes Shawn felt himself questioning whether or not the figure was real, but he knew that it was. He could feel the warmth radiating from the man, he could feel the sand between his toes with every careful step his bare feet took, and eventually, he could feel the grit on his eyes as they fluttered open each morning.

The sand in his eyes was new. It started when one night, the man spoke. His voice wasn't projected aloud, but was rather reverberated within Shawn's chest, low and raspy with every word. He told Shawn that if he trusted him, he could make all of his dreams come true within the night. He told Shawn that all he had to do was give in to him, and he would work his magic. He told Shawn that he could take him anywhere or give him anything he'd ever wanted, and it didn't take much to convince the boy.

The man watched that night as Shawn carried out his normal nightly routine. He'd check his phone which never had any messages to convey, he'd brush his teeth and curse at himself for the bags underneath his eyes, he'd strip down to his underwear, he'd turn off his bedside lamp, and finally, he'd settle underneath the covers. However, this time, he didn't fall asleep. No- He was merely lying in bed, body unmoving as he waited for something to happen.

It was a silent agreement between the two. Shawn didn't know why, but he trusted the man, and for the first time, he allowed the man in.

His eyelids squeezed tighter when he felt the sand sprinkling over his eyes but had no time to dwell on the icky feeling before he finally understood. This was what the man had been wanting to show Shawn for so long.

His body was at ease and his eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids as he was transported to a beautiful world. One where Shawn was on stage, living his dream life instead of working at his boring office job. One where he could do anything he'd ever wanted to do. With this man, he could live out any dreams he wanted. All he had to do was say the word, and he was there.

Sometimes, he chose to be a millionaire. Other times he imagined himself throwing coffee into his boss' face as he so wanted to do in real life. He ate all of the wonderful foods he'd never gotten to try, and one time he stood on the very tip of Mount Everest, breathing in deeply and allowing the crisp, cold air to hit his lungs.

Everything felt so real, and from that point on, Shawn took great advantage of the new ability he was given.

So much so, that others around him began to notice something peculiar. Though Shawn wasn't normally the most outgoing person to begin with, his friends quickly came to realize that he was closing himself off more than usual. He refused to go out to the local bar with them on multiple occasions, which was completely out of his character. On the contrary, however, he seemed happier than ever. He walked into work every day with a smile on his lips and a pep in his step, leaving out the exact same way.

At first, they let it go, figuring that he must have found a special someone who was occupying his time. In a way, that was true. He'd finally found someone that made him truly happy and that he never wanted to leave.

So he didn't.

Over the passing two months, Shawn's obsession with the man in the corner only deepened, and though he never spoke about the man to anyone, it was evident to everyone that something was truly wrong. He'd stopped coming to work, opting for sleep instead where he could be enveloped by his altered reality. When he wasn't sleeping, he was eating, with no in-between. His scruff had grown exponentially and his apartment was a wreck, but none of this mattered to him.

With a world of endless possibilities at his fingertips, he no longer needed to live in the real world.

But, eventually, Shawn began to grow bored. He'd done everything in his dream world that he'd wanted to do. He'd flown by the wings on his back, he'd walked on clouds, he'd performed his original songs in front of millions, and much, much more. He was running out of ideas, and that worried the man in the corner.

And even more to the man's dismay, an intervention was staged. It was 3:00 in the afternoon when he was awoken from his dream world by a pounding on his front door. A loud groan left his lips as he lifted his arms to wipe his eyes of the sand, making sure there was no residue for when he eventually opened his eyes completely. With a heavy sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the man as he slammed his bedroom door shut and went to open the door.

When he opened it, he was surprised to see his friends and family standing around, disappointment written all over their faces. Shawn knew that there was no way out of this this time.

He led the group into his living room littered with grime, empty pizza boxes, and piles of unpaid bills, making sure nobody took a single step towards his bedroom.

After a few breakdowns, a few confessions, an agreement, and a few trips to the doctor, Shawn was diagnosed with delirium. But, even through all of this, he never once let the Sandman's name fall from his lips. He could never let anyone know.

No matter how much medication Shawn took, the man would always be there, and this bothered Shawn. He wanted to get better for his family, friends, and himself. He wanted to stop living in his fake world and get back to what really mattered. He wanted to live again, and this angered the man more than anything.

Shawn's heart was heavy as his eyes bore up at the ceiling one night. His breath was steady as his mind wracked with thoughts of what the next day would bring. He had a meeting at 9a.m., then lunch, then he had to pick up clothes from the cleaners, and much, much more. He was busier nowadays, but that didn't necessarily bother him.

It did bother the man, however.

For the first time in nearly two weeks, he felt the thundering of the man's voice in his chest again. Shawn rolled his eyes, flipping over in his bed and pulling the covers up over his head as if it would help block out the voice.

The man was spewing his usual bullshit. He continued to promise Shawn a life beyond, a land of wonderful things, but Shawn had heard it all before- Seen it all before, and there was nothing the man could say to convince him to go back.

Or so he thought, before the Sandman posed Shawn a question.

What is it you truly want in life? He asked, the inquiry resonating through Shawn's mind.

In that moment, he wasn't sure. Part of himself was ashamed for even entertaining the man's words, though he couldn't help but be intrigued. As he was getting his life back together, there wasn't much he could wish for except for the one thing he'd never really gotten to experience.

"I-" Shawn began, biting down on his lip as he contemplated answering at all, "I want love. I've never been in a steady relationship before. I want to experience it."

So the man promised him love. He promised that if Shawn came back for just one more visit, he could give him exactly what he wanted, and then, the Sandman would disappear forever.

And Shawn caved.

Mr.Sandman, bring me a dream, make her the cutest that I've ever seen.

Give her two lips like roses and clover, and tell her that her lonely nights are over.

Sandman, I'm so alone, don't have nobody to call my own.

Please turn on your magic beam, Mr.Sandman bring me a dream.

That night, he went back to the man he'd been avoiding. He indulged; allowed himself to travel back to that dream land where everything was perfect. And all through the night, he searched for the woman he'd longed for- That he was promised.

But he never found her, and when he woke up that morning to give the man a piece of his mind, he was gone, just as he said he would be. Not a single trace of sand could be found in the room and it almost felt empty without his constant presence in the corner. Shawn groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, annoyed by the false promise he'd been dealt, but happy all the same that the man was finally gone.

Now, it was really time to start his life again.

Shawn was finding it hard to keep his balance as he rushed up the empty stairwell of his office building, heart pounding in his chest with only a few minutes left. This meeting was more important than any one so far and if he missed it, he could consider himself a goner. Once he reached his desired floor, his vision was tunneled to the room he needed to get to, already seeing the last of the people flood in.

He grit his teeth and began moving faster down the hallway, eyebrows knitted deeply in concentration. Everyone seemed to notice his urgency and moved out of the way to avoid being hit, but unfortunately, the woman at the end of the hall didn't.

She was looking through her files for the days meeting and within a split second she was on the ground, Shawn sprawled out on the carpet next to her. He groaned and cursed at himself as she shoved himself up to his knees, beginning to pick up what the woman had dropped.

"I-I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going, I was just in a rush." Shawn muttered, breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her.

She was stunning. Her plump lips curved into a tiny grin upon noticing his staring, shaking her head while picking up the last of her files.

"It's alright. Are you here for the campaign meeting with Phero Records?" The woman asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and rising to her feet.

Shawn did the same, getting up and rubbing at the back of his neck, seemingly forgetting the panic he was in a mere few seconds ago. "Uh- Yeah! Are you?"

She hummed and nodded happily, holding her belongings closer to her chest. "Yes! I work for Phero."

Shawn was elated at this news, biting his lip to stifle his grin. He was never one to be so direct, but her beauty had completely captivated him, and he knew that if he didn't make some sort of move now, he never would.

"Well we should probably get going, but I have to pick up lunch after this," He began, a hopeful look on his face, "Would you like to come with me, maybe grab a bite to eat?"

She snorted at this cliche line, cocking her head to the side. "Maybe if I knew your name, stranger."

Shawn's eyes went wide in realization as he stuttered out, "O-Oh, right! My name is Shawn, Shawn Mendes, what's yours?"

Her eyes flickered down to the hand that he held out to her, taking it and gently shaking with a smirk. "Y/N. Sounds like a plan."

-

Things couldn't be going better for Shawn. A month after the two had first met they'd gone steady and spent nearly every waking moment together. He was sure she was the one for him and he told this to everyone around him, his family especially happy to see him doing well again.

But that got him thinking.

Y/N's back was against his chest, their steady breathing matching as Shawn's fingers went to fiddle with hers, television playing some silly romcom that they'd decided on an hour earlier.

"Hey, Y/N?" Shawn muttered, heart warming as he felt her shift to look up at him in curiosity. "I was just thinking, we've been dating for a while.. Don't you think it's time to meet my family?"

The flinch she had in response to his question certainly didn't go unnoticed. It seemed her entire demeanor had changed as her eyes went wide and she turned in his grip to face him, shock written over her features.

"W-We've only been dating for like, two months, Shawn." She stuttered out, shaking her head fervently. "Don't you think it's a little early for that?"

Shawn was obviously taken aback by her sudden outbreak, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion while he brought a hand up to her face. "I mean- Maybe? I dunno, I was just thinking." His thumb moved to swipe over her quivering lip, his heart beating faster in his chest at her sudden panic. "Baby, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and gulped, looking down at her lap. "I'm just not ready for that, that's a big step, you know?"

Shawn bit his lip and nodded in understanding, yet it was clear that he wasn't completely buying it. Still, he allowed the conversation to fizzle out, bringing her head down to his chest as they got situated on the couch again. The T.V. was turned off and the two found their rhythm of breath against one another as they always did, and as Shawn felt himself begin to drift off, an usual feeling of uncertainty settled in his chest.

-

Shawn sat back boredly in his seat, his friends' banter drowning out as he lazily waved his straw around in his glass. His eyes were glued to the amber liquid he had yet to touch, the loud club music pounding in his mind. Before, this used to be his favorite scene, but nowadays, he'd much rather be spending this time with Y/N in the quiet of his home.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Brian bumped Shawn's shoulder with his own, finally breaking the man from his trance. Shawn's eyes snapped up to meet his friends' gazes in the small booth, all waiting expectantly for his answer. All he granted them was a lousy shrug.

"He probably just misses his girl." Jon teased, bringing his own glass up to his lips.

"When are we gonna meet her, anyway?" Brian asked, a smirk plastered to his face. "What's it been, four months? Why don't you ever bring her around?"

Shawn sighed and shifted in his seat, propping his right hand underneath his chin. "I dunno man, she's weird about meeting other people in my life. I think she gets nervous and I don't want to push her."

His friends all around the table snickered, all thinking the same thing that nobody had the courage to say until, of course, Brian opened his mouth again.

"I dunno, Shawn." He chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm starting to think you've been lying to us and there is no Y/N."

"What?" Shawn seethed, suddenly sitting straighter in his seat. "She's real, bro, she's just not the most social person ever."

Jon interjected with a query of his own, "Didn't you say she's like a higher-up at another company? And doesn't that mean she has to talk to people all the time?"

"Well-"

"Just show us a picture and we'll believe you." One of Shawn's other friends simply suggested, and it was then that Shawn realized the severity of his situation.

"I um-" Shawn nibbled on his bottom lip, gaze faltering down to his lap, "I don't have one."

His friends collectively groaned and rolled their eyes, needing Shawn to say no more. They'd all come to the conclusion that he was faking and let it go, leaving Shawn to sulk in the corner of the booth while their words settled in his mind.

In all of the times he was with her, they never took pictures together, nor had he seen any of her before. They were always too busy with one another; too absorbed to even bother. But tonight, he was going to prove to the others that what they had was real.

With that in mind, Shawn excused himself from the table, shimmying out and ignoring his friends' calls as he bolted out of the club and into the cold, crisp air.

-

Shawn felt the tension leave his body when he opened the front door and saw her laying on his couch, a blanket barely draped over her sleeping body. He allowed himself to smile a bit at this and noticed how she was face-down, legs wildly slung all over. It must have been a hard day at work, Shawn thought, taking it upon himself to readjust the blanket over her.

His heart leapt in his chest as it always did when he saw her. He knelt down and moved a piece of stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking another second to admire her. Then, with a sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the camera app.

Situating himself even closer to the couch, he made sure the flash was on before holding up the phone and smiling, snapping a quick picture and bringing his phone back down.

Shawn opened his camera roll, excitedly looking for the picture, yet when he clicked it, he swore his heart stopped beating.

There was nothing there. Nothing.

Not so much as a stray hair or a silhouette. There was nothing there.

His breathing got heavier while his mind wracked in confusion and he went back to the camera app, stumbling backwards and holding up his phone again. He pointed the phone right at her and watched as the flash illuminated the room for a split second before all went dark again. He ignored the small groans from the woman as she slowly awoke from the bright light, his fingers working quickly again to open his camera roll.

And once again, there was nothing but an empty spot where she laid.

His head felt as if it were being crushed as he tried to figure out what was happening. This had to be a joke, or maybe he was going crazy. He thought that there was some logical explanation, but as he stumbled even further back, his hand landed in something peculiarly familiar.

Shawn looked down to his left and noticed the sand between his fingertips, the grittiness digging into his skin. And then, he understood.

The Sandman had granted his wish.

"Shawn?" He heard Y/N's voice call as she sat up and rubbed at her tired eyes, "What are you doing home so early?"

Shawn whipped his head towards the woman, expression grim and twisted. He couldn't believe that through all the moments they'd shared together, none of them were real. She wasn't real.

He stood and looked at his bedroom door, a chill shooting down his spine. The man was in there, and Shawn knew it. He could feel it. He hopped to his feet and the look of panic on Y/N's face confirmed everything he needed to know.

"W-What are you doing?" She asked, stumbling up to her feet and reaching out to grab Shawn's arm to keep him from moving. This proved to be fruitless when he roughly shoved her backwards, forcing the girl back to the ground.

"Get the fuck away from me," He growled out, taking a few more steps towards the bedroom when he felt her nimble hands grab onto him once more.

"Shawn, stop!" She shrieked, blunt nails now digging into his skin. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Once again, he refused to let her stop him. Shawn grabbed onto her arm and twisted it back, watching as she cried out and clawed at him in attempts to get him to let go. Eventually, he did, shoving her to the side once more. And once she was out of the way, there was only Shawn, the man, and the door that separated them.

His breathing stilled as his calloused hand went to grasp the doorknob, and when he pushed forward, he came face to face with none other than the Sandman.

He looked no different than he had the last time Shawn saw him, save for the now piles of sand that covered the bedroom. The man stood tall and said nothing as Shawn's jaw clenched and he tried to find the words to say.

"You fucking asshole!" He resorted to screaming, hands coming up to pound at the man's chest, tears welling in his eyes. "How could you do this to me?!"

I only gave you what you wished for, The Sandman replied, his gravelly voice sending vibrations through Shawn's chest as it used to.

"I didn't want this!" Shawn insisted, shaking his head rapidly. "I only wanted to dream of a girl, not for you to fuck with my mind and make me think that I had something real!"

He felt the familiar tug on his arm from Y/N who was now climbing back up to her feet, a look of defeat woven onto her face. She looked wrecked from Shawn's tossing and as much as he tried not to care, that love was still there, deep down inside.

"Who are you talking to?" She cried, biting down on her lip. "Baby, there's nobody there-"

"I know you're fake!" Shawn screamed, teeth gritting so hard he was sure they could crack. "Don't even try to-"

"SHAWN!" She interrupted, bringing a hand up to his cheek with furrowed eyebrows, "You haven't been taking your medication, please, you're seeing things! Please, come back to me.."

The way her voice fell off at the end of her sentence shattered his heart, along with the look of complete agony on her face. He'd never seen her so distraught and as if he hadn't just been screaming at the man a mere second ago, his anger suddenly fizzled, all of these emotions too much to handle.

He hadn't been taking his medication, that much was true, but right now, he couldn't tell reality from fantasy. Had he hallucinated the Sandman this entire time? Was she actually real? Was his mind playing tricks on him this whole time?

Shawn seemed to space out as he tried to make sense of everything and come to some kind of conclusion. Nothing made sense anymore, but when Y/N wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, her hot tears hitting his skin, he knew that this was real. She was real.

He bit down on his bottom lip and sniffed a few times before nodding and giving into her and her comforting embrace. His own hands went to wrap around her waist, holding her even closer as he allowed his own tears to spill. He felt safe in her arms and he never wanted to let go.

"Thank you for coming back to me." She whispered, gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "I love you so much."

Shawn allowed himself to grin a bit and opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his attention. The man who once stood in the corner was now gone, taking any semblance of his presence with him.

Except for one thing.

Shawn's grin turned into a frown when he felt a sprinkle of something on his left arm, and when he shuffled backwards to look down at what had tickled his skin, his heart stopped for the final time that night.

Y/N was crumbling. Her face was stagnant as her hair fell to sand first, then her head, and the rest of her body followed. She blew away as if she was nothing, and that's exactly what she was; Nothing.

He couldn't move as he watched everything around him begin to crumble. The walls fell with the grit, revealing a barren desert. The floors beneath him turned to dust as he fell to his knees and witnessed what he had once called home be destroyed by none other than the Sandman's hand.

The destruction didn't cease until all that was left was Shawn and the desert before him.

This was just what the Sandman does. He preys on the weak-minded and vulnerable, filling their heads with promises and wonderful imaginations. He blurs the line between real and fake just to take it all back in the end, trapping his victims in an endless cycle of confusion and despair. There was no escape, and Shawn knew that much.

He was the Sandman's property, and he'd be doomed to that realm for eternity until eventually, he himself would fall to sand.

#my writing #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #sm #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #masterlist #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes request #shawn fic #freak week

[amygdalagustd]

These days I wake up dreading the day more and more. The first thing I feel when I wake up is anxiety and this deep deep sadness that somehow always lives in my stomach and my heart and my throat.

I don't know how to make this day okay, and I would love to wish for it to be over already, but I know there is no point in it ending, because tomorrow there's gonna be another one, and it's gonna feel the same.

Yesterday night I had a breakdown and ended up talking a walk at midnight. I used to do this all the time when my depression and grieve was at it's worst last summer. I would wait until it was cold outside, walk to the lake nearby where nobody was, lay down in the sand, watch the stars and slowly let my body get colder and colder and colder, numbing my emotions. I could lay there for up to an hour, no matter how cold or windy it was, no matter if it rained. The worse the conditions the better. I wanted to phyically exhaust myself, and laying on the cold wet ground in the pouring rain definitely exhausts your body. There is something about the pain in your hands when they're freezing and feeling your wet clothes stick to your already freezing cold limps and just shivering and shivering and shivering that so effectively numbs everything else you feel. I was absolutely desperate for relief at that time.

If I was too restless to lay down I would just wander around for hours. I would walk and walk and walk, I would run, I would sprint until my lungs hurt. There was one time where I had been walking from 12 am until 3 am, and I was so so tired, but I knew I couldn't go home because I knew the emotions that would be waiting there for me would be unbearable, I just had to stay outside, so I wandered to a random bench in the middle of nowhere, sat down, and just let my tiredness almost take me. I still remember so clearly just sitting there shivering, feeling my eyes close slowly, my entire body aching and hurting, but my mind was calm and that was all that mattered. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep right there.

I have so many memories of litterally sobbing in the rain, of curling op in a ball in the grass and pulling on my hair and pinching in my arms because that was all I could do to keep myself from schreaming out, of pulling out grass and stomping trees. I once fell apart somewhere on a bridge and I just layed down on the asfalt and cried. I remember whispering to myself: "get up, get up, get up, we have to go home, get the fuck up" and I couldn't. I felt like I was never gonna stop crying.

I remember tear and tears and tears that wouldn't stop, I remember hurting myself and losing control, I remember wanting so desperately to just feel okay, and it's all terrifying to me.

Writing this now from the comfort of my bed I feel like I was going insane, but that is what mental illness does to you. I couldn't care less about how dangerous it might be to go outside at night alone, how harmfull it is to my body to make it endure such extreme cold or even if anyone would hear me. I didn't care. My grieve and pain was so overwhelming that all that mattered was relief and relief and relief. I know this is all absolutely not how you should cope with your feelings, but at the time it was all I could do. There was nowhere for me to go.

These days that pain seems to be stronger again, and harder to deal with, so last night I went back to the place where I used to lay down. I sat in the sand and cried for a bit. The emotions of that time where still hanging in the air. It was almost touchable. I feel like I grew a lot this year, but it suddenly felt like nothing had changed at all. I remember that desperation so clearly. I don't really do these nightly adventures anymore these days, but the feeling is still there, although it's not as close to the surface as it used to be. There is something about grief that will snap something inside of you and make you just stop caring about anything else but dealing with the pain. It's a hard thing to experience, but it's also really honest. Of course I shouldn't go around and have crying sessions on the streets at 2 am, but there was something kinda liberating about how much I did not care that I was doing that. I didn't care about being normal or dealing with my emotions in an acceptable way, I was falling apart in every way possible and I wasn't gonna judge myself for it. But grieve fades, feelings change, and at some point you decide that you should be okay by now. I don't want to be the crazy person who is grossly sobbing in public, so I stopped being the crazy person grossly sobbing in public. Sometimes I'm proud of how I pulled myself together, but really, I haven't pulled myself together at all. The pain is still just the same, I jusr covered it up. And the more I'm pretending to be okay, the more disconnected I feel with myself and my life. So last night I went there again, just a little bit, ans now I'm doing it too, by writing this. I don't want to hide these sides of myself anymore. These feelings already hurt me enough, and by pretending they are not there I am only hurting myself more. I'm ashamed that my emotions get so violent at times, but there is no point in running from it. This is a part of me. And more than something that I'm doing and that I should be angry about, it's something that happened to me that I should greet with compassion. Letting that feeling take control and lead me into dangerous situations isn't helping me, but completely ignoring it isn't either. So I hope that I can maybe just visit it once in a while. Let it breathe a little. Maybe that way I can slowly find a better way of dealing with it.

Either way I hope that everyone who might stumble upon this post and who is fighting their own battles can give themselves some love and forgiveness. Those parts of you that you deem too ugly to be seen by anyone else aren't as ugly as you think they are, I promise 💕

#one day at a time #thoughts and feelings #this is hard to share but I think it's important