#yet you can treat me like shit when you’re having a bad day

[honeywiththemoneyloa222]

MY LONG AWAITED SUCCESS STORY PLUS RANT/YALL NEED THIS STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ

First things first

I’m tired of being nice

I have took time out of MY day to help you guys

EVERY DAY

I have given tips methods

Advice answered questions

Replied to countless amounts of DMs

Etc etc I’m not providing false hope here I AM trying to help you guys

I’m getting so many different suggestions and asks

Let me say this

STOP

from now on

No more questions

If it’s urgent

Like you really wanna know something

DM me

I WILL respond

No more questions asking how to enter the void

My account is literally talking about HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE

Are instructions not clear?????

Get off your butt and fucking do it!!!!

Stop procrastinating stop being lazy stop asking questions you spreads know the answers to

And for the love of God

STOP ASKING ME TO ENTER FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!

I’m doing what I can to help you all manifest

But it’s YOUR job to make it happen

Y’all used my kindness against me and it’s pissing me off I’m tired of people not even asking anymore

Just begging me

I AM NOT A MAGICIAN

I was literally YOU

not too long ago

I am a nice person but I am at my limits

Stop repeating questions

Look at my page for the answers you need

Stop asking me to enter for you

If it’s not happening

DM me for ADVICE

I used to be the kid that got asked by others to do their homework for them

If I didn’t put my foot down

Y’all were gonna drive me insane

Literally

I love y’all but stop depending on me

Just ask

For advice

But stop treating me like a Genie

And I manifested for someone and it doesn’t work

Then what

Am I a liar now???

Am I fake??

Like are you serious

Bruh I’m serious when I say

I’ve had enough

Read this story to see how YOU CAN ALSO

Transform your life

I literally went from

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

I went from slitting my own wrists and going in my closet trying to hang myself EVERY FUCKING NIGHT

I used to stare in the mirror

Crying about how my body looked

I used to go to school scared because I was getting abused by guys there and bullied by girls

All my friends turned their backs on me and I literally said

FUCK IT

I don’t deserve this fucking life so you know what I did????

I changed it

It’s so easy it’s insane

I too over complicated it

I too was desperate

But your desires are yours

They just are

Ignore them MF negative thoughts

Matter of a fact don’t even call it that

You are giving your “intrusive” thoughts power by saying they are negative

Don’t label them as intrusive thoughts

THEY DO NOT EXIST

THEY WILL NEVER MANIFEST

And I’m not just saying that it’s true

It’s soooo fucking true

By labeling them as “intrusive” or “negative” you’re giving them power

To take over and control your life

When this is not what you want

Don’t fear your own head

Bitch it’s YOUR BRAIN

It can’t NOT listen to you

Change your goddamn assumptions

You are a bad bitch you’re hot beautiful

You’re THAT bitch

Bad bitches don’t beg we make shit happen

Get off your cute ass and go get your dream fucking life

Bitch you can have it all

You can marry Shawn Mendez

Be the sexiest model on the planet (but you’re only 5’3) OK ANDDDDD

Marissa Rose is the first 4’11 runway model

You mean to tell me it’s not possible???

They have plus size models

Shirt models

Models with tig ol biddies

Models with tattoos models with piercings models with scars etc

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

You can get a call back from that job

Better yet fuck 9 to 5s

Bitch YOU ARE RICH

You are literally Jeff Bezos

Don’t manifest “small shit” cuz if you can get an apartment and a job

You can also manifest $100 million and 2500 square feet mansion

You can have superpowers

You can be a master manifestor

You can become a celebrity and overnight

You can meet your favorite celebrities at awards shows

You can sit next to Ice Spice at the Grammys

EVEN SHE MANIFESTED HER DREAM LIFE

There’s proof in her old tweets and in your interviews

YOU CAN HAVE HARRY STYLES TICKETS FOR WHENEVER HE DECIDES TO DROP AN ALBUM

YOU CAN BE THE NEXT BEYONCÉ

YOU CAN MEET OR EVEN PERFORM WITH TAYLOR SWIFT

YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE MONEY YOU WANT

YOU CAN SHIFT TO ANOTHER REALITY AND MEET MICHAEL JACKSON

YOU CAN HAVE THE SINGING VOICE OF AALIYAH OR MF MARIAH CAREY

YOU CAN MANIFEST THAT YOUR DOG NEVER DIED OR THAT

YOUR EX STILL MISSES YOU

KANYE WEST MANIFESTED KIM K

TOM HOLLAND MANIFESTED ZENDAYA

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU CANT HAVE

MICHAEL B JORDAN WAITING ON YOU HAND AND FOOT????

YOU CAN ENTER THE VOID MANIFEST YOUR Sp

AND WAKE UP NEXT TO YOUR CRUSH

YOU CAN MANIFEST BEING IMMUNE TO BAD SHIT BEING A GODDESS BEING SO BEAUTIFUL THAT PEOPLE FORGET MEGAN FOX EXISTS

YOU CAN MANIFEST LOOKING LIKE MARILYN MONROE

OR MADISON BEER

YOU CAN MANIFEST TALENT

BITCH ITS ALL POSSIBLE

You OWN THIS SHIT THIS IS YOUR LIFE BOO

Go fucking get it!!!!!!!

SUCCESS STORY

I was tired of own shit so I used the method that I created

I already posted it

Go read it

Here’s what I manifested

1. SP

I manifested a girlfriend because I’m bisexual asf

And I created her on my phone

Just write if list of what she looks and acts like

I manifested my dream career

I manifested platonic SPs

As in friendships

Money

A strong intuition

More knowledge

A better self concept

Immunity

The ability to hypnotize with my eyes(OK I HAVENT TESTED THIS OUT BUT IM EXCITED TO)

Meeting a celebrity

Can’t say who but I manifested it for the future

I even got pets now!!! A puppy two kittens and two snakes!!

I manifested lots of cool talents

I improved my dancing!!!!!!

I was insecure about my voice

So I changed it

Deadass I sound kinda sexy now

I wanted a whispery ass voice😭😭

So I got oneeee

I also manifested a LOT of personal stuff that I won’t share

Unfortunately I’m SUPER protective of my soul and just overall self

And I’m not posting a face reveal

This might seem surprising to most

My passive aggressive behavior but this is literally how I am daily

I really am nice but y’all just make me ANXIOUS

But still

I love you darlings soooo much

Like for real

But please just pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Don’t make me your wish granter

Make your own wishes come true

If it’s cool with y’all

I’ll manifest tonight

That entering the void will be easy for you guys

But you HAVE to do it yourself I can only guide you

You got this babe

If you got offended it’s working

That means you needed this

Take this tough love and go use it for good

I better see some goddamn success stories this month or we gon fight

(Not literally that’s just my humor talking)

Love you bitches

Now go meditate before I appear under your bed tonight and yank yo shit

Love youuuu💗💗💗💗💗

#void state #law of assumption #law of attraction #void #law of manifestation #manifesting #manifesation #subliminals #loassblog #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loa success #loablr #success story #reality shifting #desired reality #guided meditation

[ode2rin]

all my love

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. fluff, slightly suggestive (towards the end) | established relationship | new boyfriend!rin 

content/warnings. 1.8k+ wc | characters are in their 20s ! | pro-athlete!rin | making out | narration heavy! | profanity | pet names | me and my word vomit | minimal proofread

in which: new boyfriend rin struggles to keep his affection within the delicate bounds of too much and too soon.

“he’s beefing with a phone now?”

“he’s beefing with anyone - anything, it’s actually a bit concerning at this point.”

“guys, stop. he can hear us, you know.”

itoshi rin sure does hear bachira, chigiri, and isagi talk shit about how he’s holding his phone tightly while glaring at the little screen. for once, rin paid them no mind and simply rolled his eyes. seemingly more focused on what is happening in his phone, or rather, what he is waiting to happen in his phone.

it’s stupid, he knows. he actually feels like he’s 18 again, back when he was pining on you so hard that he waited a whole day before you asked him to hang out. now at 23, after what felt like a whole century (he’s being dramatic) of wishing you were his, the day finally came. 

and once again, he’s here sitting, impatiently waiting for your updates about your silly grocery shopping you told him about just an hour ago. he wanted to tell you to wait, and that he’d come with you after practice. but before he could even send the message, he caught himself showing what he would call, for a lack of better term, lukewarm ‘feelings’ (it’s clinginess, he just doesn’t want to say the word himself, it’s distasteful in his own tongue).

he’s not clingy. he’s not needy. he doesn’t need to see you all the time. he doesn’t need to hear your voice or even receive a foolish text message from you. it’s not like he’s going mad about it this instant if you don’t update him. 

that's beneath him — or at least he firmly believes so before refreshing his notifications for the nth time for your long overdue text.

he could just text you first, right? to tell you how he hopes ego gets an urgent call from whoever, allowing them to leave practice earlier. tell you how desperately he wishes the earth would spin faster until he sees you again. and most importantly, tell you that he misses you, and he wants to see you despite staying over just a day ago for your weekly date.

after all, you're together now. he could simply just text you and let you know. what's the worst that could happen?

well, you might think he's being too much (he reached that conclusion on his own), and it might throw you off a bit — which is probably the last thing rin would want to happen. 

it’s too much, and too soon. no matter how long he had known it would be you for him, it doesn’t change the fact that the two of you are new to this. 

it has been nearly three months since you made it official for him, yet he’s still uncertain whether the length of your relationship could gravitate the spontaneity of him showing up to your place unannounced, or if he could ask you to stay the night after your weekly date, heck he doesn’t even know if could say those three damn words whenever he feels like it.

rin fears of overwhelming you. he can try and deny, but rin harbors big feelings that for as long as he could remember, stayed dormant for his own good. but now that you’re here, he’s afraid of putting it all out there for you.

rin thinks, or at least how he treats it, that your relationship is a new form of delicate. something he would need to handle with care, something he needs to approach slowly, even when all he wants is to give you all that he is— the good and even the bad that he would make better, just for you.

this is new and delicate. you are delicate. 

and rin knows his hands have never been known for their ability to handle something so precious.

sighing in defeat, rin threw his phone inside his gym bag, but as he was about to leave the locker room, he heard the faint buzz coming from his phone.

it was faint, barely detectable to some. but for someone who had been waiting for it for a whole damn hour, it felt like an angel whispered in rin's ear, letting him know that someone from above took pity on him.

“damn, that was fast. did you guys see that?”

bachira wasn’t lying. rin did turn to pick up his phone from his bag as quickly as one would turn when someone yelled ‘fire’. and for it, bachira received his second (it’s 2 pm, two is still a merciful number) glare of the day for pointing out his patheticness.

hastily, rin opened your conversation to be greeted by a photo of two different brands of protein powder followed by a harmless question from you, yet it almost burned him.

it’s your break, right? just wanted to ask you which would you prefer. i’m getting one of each for you to try if you can’t reply right away :D

fuck what he thought, he needs to see you – and he will. 

rin almost clicked the call button just to tell you he loves you. all because of some protein powder. just because you're so thoughtful and kind to him, it's downright unbelievable. he needs to hear your voice so he can process how real it is that you are his.

rin glanced at the clock of his phone. four more hours ‘til he’s free. four more dreadful hours, he can make do.

just before he got called by his team, rin quickly typed a reply to you.

Right one. Thank you :)

on the other end of the texting, you almost dropped both brands from your hands into your cart as you stared at rin's reply, particularly to the emoji he sent.

is this my boyfriend? you thought with a bemused grin. shaking your head, you placed his choice in your cart. you'd tease him about it when you saw him this saturday.

little did you know, even before saturday arrived, rin would be standing in front of you, hours after your last conversation. he was dressed in his sweats, wearing a white shirt, and had his gym bag slung across his chest. his hair seemed still damp from the shower, and as he looked at you, it was as though he just realized he had come here on his own.

“rin? what are you doing here?” you ask, breaking the silence first.

it was only after your question that rin realized he had more pressing matters to face than letting his eyes wander around you in your pajamas.

“i…” fuck. this is torture, and he curses himself for not finding the right words, “i wanted to see you.”

“you want to see me,” you echoed.

“is that fine?” rin’s voice came out strained with uncertainty.

a soft smile crossed your face, and you nodded. “of course…” you answered, “do you want to come in?”

rin nodded and slowly walked towards the entrance of your home, letting himself in as he dropped his bag on the floor. he still hadn't met your eye, reluctant to face what he might see in them.

instead, he indulged in the way you looked, seemingly so soft and warm to the touch in your flowing pajamas. his hands ached and itched with the urge to hold you close against him.

but he can’t – it was too much, too soon. 

“you can come here anytime you want,” you said, pulling rin out of his thoughts.

taken aback, rin took a few seconds to process what you said. “it’s not… too much?”

curious as to why he would ask that, you gave him a bashful smile. “it’s you, baby. why would it be?” 

and just like that, rin cast aside all of his hesitancy at the sound of your words, as if they were the green light signifying him to let go of the brakes holding his own affection.

rin took a step closer to you until you were inches away from him. your curious eyes followed every movement he made. curiosity immediately turned to bewilderment when you felt one of rin's firm hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. his other hand settled in the curve of your neck below your jaw, gently guiding your face to meet his.

“how about when i hold you like this? still not too much?” rin's voice sounded hoarse, an octave lower. his hands roamed around your back, gently caressing your clothed skin.

“no…” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

rin exhaled with your response, the scent of fresh mint wafting around your face. his hand on your neck climbed up until you felt his thumb caressing the side of your lip.

“and if i tell you i love you— perhaps a little too much. how 'bout that? does that bother you?” 

so, this is what it is about.

feeling bolder than you were minutes ago, you caught rin's hand, enclosing it with your smaller ones as you guided it to your lips, leaving a featherlight kiss on his knuckles.

smiling up to him, you say, “never. i think i’ll love that.”

as the moment lingered in suspended anticipation, rin wasn’t able to suppress it any longer. he closed the distance between your lips with an urgency that bordered on desperation. the kiss was more than a mere meeting of lips; it was a collision of hearts.

his lips molded against yours, and his touch was not just gentle, but also fervent, as if trying to give you all that he is, without any reservation. his hands, once hesitant, now found their place on your waist, pulling you even closer to him, feeling the warmth of your body against his. his fingers traced a delicate path along your spine, memorizing every curve, every contour, as if etching your presence in his memory. 

as the kiss deepened, a soft sigh of contentment escaped your lips, inviting rin to explore further. he took the invitation, his tongue gently parting your lips to taste you more, more, and more.  because just when he thought it was too much, it was apparently not enough. he needed more – touch you more. 

when you both finally pulled apart, your breaths were intertwined, and your gazes locked. with a shy smile playing on your lips, still breathless and flushed, you ask, “and if i ask you to stay the night, is that too much?”

rin smiled, teal-eyes reflecting a glassy glint, “no,” he whispered, “i think i’ll love that, too.”

and rin also thinks he wouldn't mind being clingy and admitting he's needy if it's you— only when it's you.

because with you, he's not reminded that he was less, nor plagued that he might be too much.

to you, all of him was just the right amount of love.

note. i don’t know what this is but i miss him so i hope it’s something. if you’re new here, i am crazy about itoshi rin.

another note. new!bf rin here !

#☁️ my ode to you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

[neo-nomatrix]

Belong

Yandere!Miguel O’hara x reader

synopsis: Miguel saved you from a collapsing universe, and he will do anything to make sure you stay.

word count: 664

warnings: DARK CONTENT!!! Miguel is extremely obsessive and a yandere. he gaslights and manipulates reader.

a/n: first time writing content like this, i hope it’s good

The space, or home as Miguel likes to call it, he keeps you in is nicer than you want. It’s too nice, so nice that if you told anyone you were unhappy they would probably laugh in your face. You have a beautiful “home” , a handsome husband, and a wonderful life with no worries. You’re living the dream. Yet, your life is anything but a dream. If you had realized what you were getting yourself into you would’ve stopped a long time ago.

Miguel was perfect when you first started dating. A gorgeous, kind, caring man with aspirations for greatness. He promised you a life of no worry and loved you unconditionally. You didn’t know that he was hiding something so terrible it could hurt your world as you knew it.

You try your best to forget what happened, Miguel does his best to force you to forget. As much as you try you can’t forget the image of your daughter and your home collapsing in front of you. On bad days, days were Miguel gets too angry you stay in bed thinking about your life before everything happened. You pretend like you still have your daughter, like you still have the old Miguel. Of course, he hates those days. He despises when you stay in bed, eyes staring at nothing. He hates it when your voice gets hoarse and your temper gets short with him. This is one of the days he hates.

“I’m trying to talk to you nicely. I want to talk things out and discuss this like civilized adults, mi vida. But you just don’t get it do you?”

“Don’t get it?! What is there to get?! You keep me trapped up here and i fucking hate it!” You scream at him.

“I’m doing this to protect you. The world is so dangerous and this is the only way to keep you safe. I do this because i love y-” he tries to say before you cut him off.

“Love me? You love me? This isn’t love, it’s an obsession! Don’t you get it?” You snap at him.

You’re breathing heavily as his eyes turn bloodshot red. His hands clench beside him as he turns around. You know that if he looked at you he would hurt you.

“Don’t say that. I do love you. More than you can understand. Don’t you see everything I do for you?” He slowly gets closer to you, backing you into a wall and you slide to the ground trying to hide yourself.

“I have only ever loved and cherished you. And yet, you treat me like this? I’ve made mistakes, we all have! Don't make me into the bad guy because I care about you,” he says. His voice is so calm yet so venomous.

“I just-” You try to say before his fist strikes against the wall behind you. You let out a shriek as you quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

“you just what? You just thought you could treat me like shit and get away with it?!” His voice becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you try to say, your voice shaking out of fear.

He kneels down next to you, hand reaching for your face before you flinch away. In the next second he grabs at your jaw with a strong hand, pulling you closer to him like a doll.

“You’re sorry?” He raises a brow. You nod as a response.

“Tell me then,” he says calmly, you already know what he’s talking about.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say, eyes peering up to his.

“I love you most, mi vida,” he says, giving you a soft kiss to the lips.

Maybe he does love you, in his own sick and twisted way. You can only hope his love for you can protect you from him.

#spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman x reader #x reader #x female reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #tw yandere

[hwaslayer]

love you in slow motion (psh) | one.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, the warmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 5.7k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, hints of a toxic relationship & ex-bf, mentions of a broken family and death, just a good ol' intro to hwa and oc + their dynamic + their family dynamics, buried feelings and overthinking!!

"Seonghwa?" Your cousin, Soyeon, calls for him on the other line. Soyeon rarely ever calls Seonghwa, but when she does, it's usually for good reason.

"Soyeon, what's up?" Seonghwa says, hand on his hip as he tries to regulate his breathing after a late night boxing session with Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

"Y/N said she would be home earlier, but she hasn't been. Yaya's worried, I'm worried. It's pouring outside." She says frantically. He sighs, stomach slightly dropping at the statement.

"Okay, where did she go last? I haven't heard from her since earlier this morning." Soyeon lets out a hefty sigh.

"Of course she wouldn't tell you. She was with Mingi." She says sarcastically, knowing Seonghwa would be upset with you for giving in, yet once again. Seonghwa had no issues giving you the 'I told you so' every single time you've been with your shitty ex-boyfriend. He always makes you cry, and it never fails. He doesn't understand why the fuck you keep running back to him. So to Seonghwa, it's not surprising that you kept this from him. Doesn't stop him from pinching the bridge of his nose before nodding, though.

"Alright, I'll find her. Don't worry."

"Thank you. Seriously. When you see her, you better tell her to stop seeing that fucking asshole. All he does is treat her like shit."

"Yeah, I know. Are you and Junseo home now?"

"Yeah, we are. We were gonna go to Yaya's but she told me to call you first before anything."

"Good, stay put. I'll take care of it and text you. She won't be far."

"God, such a headache. Thank you, Seonghwa."

"Course." He sighs as he ends the call, tossing his phone onto his duffle bag before un-doing the wrap around his hands. 

"Done already?" Wooyoung asks, making Hongjoong shift his attention to the platinum blonde while they stand near the bag.

"I gotta go find Y/N."

"What? What happened?"

"Who knows, she was with Mingi."

"Dude is always bad news." Hongjoong chimes in, watching as Seonghwa throws his hoodie on and slings the duffle bag strap over his shoulder.

"Tell me about it." Seonghwa rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Text us when you're all good. Hope she's okay."

"She's fine. Just needa get her out of this rain." He says, giving them one last wave as he walks out of the studio and down the steps. Soyeon is right; the rain has picked up over the last few hours, creating huge puddles near the sidewalks and curbs due to the intensity. The stream of water makes a loud noise as it falls into the drain nearby, the loud pour of the rainfall echoing throughout the empty street. Seonghwa drags the hood over his head, doing a slight jog to his parked car on the side of the studio. Luckily for him, he knows where Song Mingi lives. Luckily for him, this town isn't that big and you couldn't have gotten far.

Luckily for him, he's right.

He finds you walking about two blocks away from Mingi's place, just getting ready to turn the corner to lord knows where. He slowly drives alongside of you, rolling down his passenger window to peak over at you. He's glad he found you when he did because you have a flimsy hoodie and leggings on, the hood completely drenched and barely doing anything to protect you from this rain.

"What are you doing, Seonghwa?" You ask, eyes glued forward as you continue to walk.

"What does it look like? Get in, you're gonna get sick." You squint your eyes at him as you continue to walk. "Y/N."

"How did you even know where to find me?"

"It's not hard to figure out when you're with Mingi." He quickly glances at the street ahead, making sure there are no oncoming cars or passengers in the way. "Plus, Soyeon called. Her and Yaya are worried because you told them you'd be home earlier."

"Of course." You mumble.

"Y/N, get inside and stop being stubborn."

"Seonghwa—" He starts to obnoxiously honk his horn on the quiet street, making your eyes widen at him. You continuously tell him to stop and to quit being so loud, however, his efforts don't stop. "Park Seonghwa, what the fuck! Fine!" You groan loudly, quickly opening the door when he stops the car. You plop yourself onto the seat, glaring at him. "Happy?!"

"Not really, but at least you're in the car." He locks the doors and turns up the heat, driving off to his 1 bedroom apartment. "You can stay at mine for tonight so you don't stress out Yaya." He keeps his eyes on the road, thoughts shifting to your grandma and how worried she might be right now.

"She won't even be that—"

"She sure as hell will, Y/N. Besides, who the hell wants to argue with you this late at night? It's almost 1am. Knowing your ass and how you never listen, even though you should." He sighs. "I'll take you home tomorrow morning before I head to work."

"Whatever." You cross your arms, still feeling cold and uncomfortable after being in the rain.

"Why were you walking in the rain?" He asks, most definitely knowing the answer already. Your nights with Mingi always end on some toxic shit, all this yelling and back and forth— arguing over empty promises and issues from the past.

And for what? The dude is never gonna change. Seonghwa isn't sure what the hell you're holding out hope for. 

"I'll tell you if you spare me the 'I told you so.'" He shakes his head.

"Can't promise."

"Then you don't get shit from me." 

"Why do you let him do this to you?"

"Wow, that's actually worse than an 'I told you so.'"

"I'm being serious." He glances at you with a very mixed expression, mainly serious and worrisome tones.

"I don't know, okay. I wish I could tell you." It's silent for a minute, the only sounds filling the car are the rain pounding against the windshield and the heat on high. 

The thing about Seonghwa being your bestfriend of 16 years is the fact that you can always rely on him to be there no matter what. He's always so, so good to you; always so caring, so supportive and so protective. You've never had to ask Seonghwa for anything because he always gives, and is always ready to give. Just like tonight, when he shouldn't be here but he is. 

He had been yours, just as you had been his since the beginning.

Sometimes, it's easy to believe you don't deserve someone like Seonghwa by your side.

You met this adorably shy, sweet kid when he was introduced to your class as a new transfer in the 3rd grade, most kids in your class politely saying hello but going about their own business afterwards. You, though, had stuck around to show Seonghwa his new school and to eat with him. Since then, your relationship had flourished. His dad had become bestfriends with your own dad, the two of you always going on family trips together, hanging out at each other's homes, going to the same schools onward— Seonghwa was always there, you were always there. He had seen you through your very best, seen you through your very worst. Was there during your highs, was there during your lows. Knows exactly how to push you right to the very edge, but also knows how to make up for his dumb mistakes. Knows exactly how to handle you, attitude, temper and all, knows exactly what makes you happy, what makes you sad.

He knows you like the back of his hand.

Probably better than you know yourself.

Seonghwa became the golden child though, you know? He had loving parents who supported him through everything. He was a superb student [a teacher's pet, if you may], an athlete, a prodigy; always winning numerous awards and medals throughout his academic and athletic career. He had countless talents and a positive energy that people admired him for, though shy and timid in the beginning. He got along well with people and was the ultimate charmer. Attractive, had his way with the ladies— albeit, he can be an idiot when he thinks with his dick from time to time and not his brain. But nonetheless, Seonghwa is Seonghwa. He would never intentionally hurt a soul, would never intentionally give people what they didn't deserve. To be clear though, Seonghwa has his fair share of mistakes and fuck-ups, but in the end, he would always apologize when in the wrong and make up for his actions. While you, on the other hand, were his polar opposite and struggled to find your place in this crazy, crazy world.

You had never met your biological mother, and your dad had spent majority of your earlier years working graveyard to keep food on the table, to keep sending you to a good school. You spent most of your childhood growing up at Yaya's house, where your dad's sister and her family lived for awhile. That's how your older cousin Soyeon became the sister you've never had, somebody else you could rely on, fight with and experience the ups and downs with. Things were good, and they were good for awhile until you lost your dad to a rare and sudden illness.

Then, things went downhill for you.

You continued to stay at Yaya's, only having her, Soyeon and her family, Seonghwa and his family by your side. You began to push people away, you got into trouble and made dumb mistakes that hurt your loved ones more times than you'd like to admit. You had your moments where you acted solely on feelings instead of being rational. You had no filter, not being afraid of telling people if they were wrong even if it meant hurting their feelings to no end. You no longer got along well with most people, finding it hard to vibe well with majority of the crowd. No longer caring about what was in the know, what was trending; was incredibly selective about who you gave your time and effort to in fear of losing more loved ones dear to your heart.

Without Seonghwa at your side, you're not sure where you'd be. Because truly, if it wasn't for him, you don't think you would have continued to try. He was the only thing that remained constant in your life, one of the only people who continued to show you genuine care and love despite your flaws and all.

"Have you eaten?" He suddenly speaks and changes the topic, not wanting to upset you any more than you already are.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something." You don't respond. "Mom made some kimbap today, I can set some aside for you."

"Thanks." You say softly, watching as the car finally drives into the familiar apartment complex. Seonghwa turns the wheel with one hand, pulling into his assigned parking spot before shutting off the car. He lets out a sigh before looking over at you, noticing you're still in your sad, sulky position in the passenger seat.

"Ready? Or should we just sleep in here tonight?" You slowly turn and glare at him, mocking him before answering dramatically— knowing it's the most childish thing you can do right now, especially after Seonghwa took the time to find you and pick you up in this rain.

"Why don't you just leave me here?"

"Good with me. At least I don't have to lend you any more of my clothes and have you sleeping on my couch. Matter of fact, more kimbap for me." He says, stepping out of the car, keys rattling in his pocket as he turns to shut his car door. He continues to walk without worry because he knows the shit you pull.

You'll end up following him.

He doesn't even have to turn over his shoulder to make sure you do. He hears the car door slam after a few minutes, and he smirks a bit to himself before locking the car using the key fob in his pocket.

"You really have to slam my car door like that?" He asks, slightly looking over his shoulder before climbing up the steps.

"Sorry." You mumble, pathetically following your bestfriend with your arms crossed tightly against your chest. He unlocks his door and waits for you to make it up the steps, letting you step in and out of your shoes first before following you inside. He tosses his keys onto the entryway table before walking into the kitchen and pulling out his phone to text Soyeon that you were safe with him for the night.

"You can go shower first. Just take whatever you want from my closet." He says, eyes focused on the bag of kimbap his mom had dropped off earlier in the day. You simply nod and head straight to his closet, grabbing some pajama pants and a longsleeve. You toss your clothes into the bathroom sink, mentally making a note to ask Seonghwa if you can throw in a load of his laundry with your clothes. The last thing you wanna do is make a mess in Seonghwa's super clean apartment, let alone drag home some wet clothes from the night prior.

The shower you take is short, but relaxing. You let the hot water beat down on you, thoroughly scrubbing and scratching every inch of your body, your scalp. When you finish, you lather some lotion and pad back out to his living room. Seonghwa glances up, watching as you come towards him with his long pajama pants and a long sleeve with sleeves that falls past your hands. He thinks you're the cutest thing he has ever seen [especially in his clothes], but he subtly bites onto his bottom lip to suppress the smile forming at his lips.

"Can I do some of your laundry so I can wash my clothes? They're just sitting in your bathroom sink." He shrugs.

"Don't worry about it, I'll toss it in there before I hop into the shower." He slides a small plate on the counter of his kitchen island bar area, before handing you a hot cup of green tea. "Eat at least one." You nod, watching as he washes his hands and begins to make his way to the bathroom. You're hungrier than you thought, popping in all the pieces of kimbap Seonghwa prepared for you before downing the green tea. In the end, you feel full, satisfied.

Content.

Warm.

After a good thirty minutes, Seonghwa is out of the shower and tossing the load into the dryer. He's ruffling his semi-dry hair as he brings out a thick blanket for you, glancing at the random Cars movie playing on the tv.

"Here." He says. "You finished eating?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. I'm gonna go to bed then." He turns to head into his room.

"Hwa, can't you just sleep out here with me?" You point at the free part of his L-shaped sectional couch.

"Why, when I have a perfectly comfortable bed to sleep on in here?" He points to his room, but you pout.

"But, you also have an amazing couch that you can share with your bestfriend."

"You snore and you move around too much."

"I do not, and you'd be on that side of the couch anyway!" You furrow your brows. "You snore, too!"

"Not as loud as you, sounding like you belong in that Cars movie." He glances at the tv screen while making the dumb joke, and you groan.

"Okay, fine. Whatever." You succumb to defeat and wave the white flag. "I just don't necessarily wanna be alone."

"You're not, I'm right here."

"Pichu." Ah, there it is. That stupid nickname he's painfully grown to adore after you've told him time and time again that he looks just like the pokemon. He sighs, realizing you probably won't let this up. On top of that, he knows he can't say no to you regarding most things. So, he drags himself into his room and rips off his duvet comforter from the bed to bring with him into the living room. He sets himself up on one section of the couch, while you take up the other— heads meeting at the corner.

"The moment you rip out a big snore, I'm leaving you out here." He warns and you snort.

"You're a dick. I don't even snore like that."

"And how would you know, sleeping beauty?" He looks at you, heart content with the way you happily look at him from your side of the couch. You have no rebuttal though, so he shuts off the tv and rests his hand on the back of his head while closing his eyes. "Thought so. Get some sleep, it's getting late." He hears you rustling underneath your own blankets, head gently knocking onto the side of his that makes him suck his teeth. "Y/N." He groans with a whiney tone. "This is what I mean."

"Sorry, sorry." You pout, rubbing the side of his head. "I'm good now." You mumble underneath the blankets as you settle, satisfied with your warm and bundled position. You can hear Seonghwa's soft breathing behind you, signaling that he'll probably fall asleep soon [and quick, too]. "Hwa?" You softly call for him one last time.

"Hm?" He hums.

"Thank you." You pause. "For everything."

"You know I care about you more than anything, right?" He says, close to a whisper. "You deserve way better."

"Yeah." Is all you respond with before closing your eyes, hoping to finally be at peace for the remainder of the night. "Love you, pichu." You say sleepily.

"Love you, too." He feels the statement tug at his heart strings because Seonghwa does love you, he has loved you for years. Been in love with you for years. But you were always the most important, this dynamic and relationship was the most important, that he's learned to suppress and live with it— even though at times, he feels like he gives it away pretty easily, or lets his emotions get to the best of him. 

Everyone can tell. 

Everyone knows. 

Everyone but you. 

Surprisingly, you do fall asleep before Seonghwa. He can't help but peek from his peripherals, noticing your steady breathing under the covers. Your head is barely poking out from the covers, making Seonghwa smile to himself. He settles a little closer to you, top of your head tucked near the crook of his neck as he slightly turns towards your side and finally shuts his eyes to get some sleep.

When you wake up the following morning, it's because Seonghwa's cussing to himself as he runs to grab his ringing phone on the island counter. His eyes quickly dart to you as he snatches the phone and answers the call, noticing you're starting to wake up.

"Sorry, Y/N." He apologizes and you let out a small squeak as you stretch and shake your head.

"It's okay, Hwa. Should probably get up anyway." You rub at your eyes, watching as he paces back into his room to finish getting ready for work. He's apparently talking to Wooyoung, agreeing to pick the guy up after bringing you home since they work at the same place— two athletic trainers for the men's sports teams at one of the universities in town, Wooyoung and Seonghwa mainly taking care of the football and basketball teams, popping into other sports if the help is urgently needed. They've both worked really hard to earn their current positions, being two of the leads who focus on training, treatment and rehabilitating their athletes at homebase, and only participating in a few quick trips for away games if asked.

As you stand and start to fold the blanket, you catch sight of how tired Seonghwa looks and you feel terrible. You know Seonghwa loves to test his limits, working out late after his shifts and barely getting 8 hours of sleep right before a busy day of tending to athletes. Despite your nagging and lecturing him on getting more rest, Hwa has gotten used to doing things this way.

However, part of you still feels guilty that he doesn't look as bright and alert this morning because of you. Because you needed more saving, because you chose to be stubborn and listen to Mingi even though he hasn't given you a reason to trust him since you've broken up.

"I didn't mean to wake you so early."

"I mean, you do have to leave soon, don't you?" You check the clock, peeping the current time as 8:27am. "Isn't this really late for you, actually?" Especially during the season, Seonghwa is always at work by 6AM, leaving super late in the afternoon. Off-season is a little easier for him, being that practice schedules are spread out due to sharing space with other sports/teams.

"Not for today. The team is lifting right now, I need to work on some rehab reports first before training and practice later today." You nod. "Are you good to leave soon then?"

"Of course."

"Okay, let me just grab a few things so we can head out. I need to pick up Wooyoung's lazy ass."

"He's not in to help with lifting?"

"Not anymore. Dude overslept." You snort.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Director Shin loves him. She would never get him in trouble or scold him."

"She loves you, too." You say.

"Not as much as Wooyoung. She'll bite my head off first before she ever thinks about coming for him." He throws in some food into his duffle bag solely for work. The duffle bag is huge, having the university's name plastered on the side in big, bold letters— followed by his name etched onto the corner with his athletic training certification. "By the way." He points at your neatly folded, washed clothes on the coffee table. "Don't forget your clothes."

"Thanks."

"Are you just gonna go home like that?" He eyes his clothes on your figure.

"Yeah, why not?" He shrugs.

"Alright then. Let's go." He pats himself down to double check that he has everything on him before heading out of the door. You lazily follow behind after slipping into your sneakers, having to roll up Seonghwa's pajama pants so that they don't reach the floor and get dirty. You plop into the passenger's seat with your clothes on your lap, rubbing at your eyes once situated. "You didn't have to get up so early. I technically don't need to be there until 10."

"It's fine, Hwa."

"Did you tell Yaya we were on the way?"

"No, I'll just surprise her when I get there." You smile and he shakes his head.

"You need to stop worrying your grandma and your cousin."

"I'm not even doing anything!"

"You're not? Then, what was last night?" He glances at you then lets out a small scoff. "Exactly. And please stop running back to Mingi. That dude isn't gonna change, and you know that. All he does is make you upset and I can't stand it. You two aren't good for each other."

"I hear you." You say lowly, head leaning against the passenger window.

"I'm sorry." He lets out a breath, genuinely just worried about you and your wellbeing. "I don't mean to do this so early, but I just get worried about you." He ruffles your hair a bit, causing a small smile to creep up on the corners of your lips.

"It's okay. I need to hear it." He chuckles.

"Yeah, you do. You're such a fucking headache." He jokes. "But you're important to me, and all I want is for you to be happy." He pinches your cheeks, making you scrunch your nose.

"Thanks Hwa." He looks at you while posted at a stop light, admiring the way you scrunch your nose and let out a little giggle. That's how he likes to see you. Not upset, sad, or crying. Especially over Song Mingi.

The drive to your house isn't too far, or at least, it never feels too far since you and Seonghwa always engage in conversations about various things while in the car. He pulls into Yaya's driveway, parking right next to Soyeon's car. You occupy the tiny detached in-law suite in the corner of the backyard, so Seonghwa isn't surprised when you try to scurry to the backyard to avoid Yaya and Soyeon.

"She's here!" He yells and points at you.

"You're a pain in the fucking ass, Park." You glare at him while you simultaneously hear Yaya telling you to come into the house and to not even think about running into the backyard.

"Oh, Yaya! Miss damsel in distress just walked in."

"Y/N. You should've called or texted. We were worried when we didn't hear from you." Yaya looks at you disappointingly while whipping up some breakfast.

"Sorry." You mumble as Seonghwa brushes past you to kiss ass to Yaya.

"Always needing her bestfriend to come and save the day." Soyeon says sarcastically before crossing his arms. "Seriously, what the hell would you do without Hwa? And why the hell didn't you make it home in time or text to let us know you'd be late?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Hi to you too." You squint at her. "He was supposed to bring me home but we got into another stupid fight, that's all." You roll your eyes before glancing at the empty luggages she has next to her.

"So, he just let you walk in the rain? What a fucking dick."

"Language." Yaya warns, glaring at the two of you from the kitchen next to Seonghwa, who is quickly peeling a banana he took from the fruit basket.

"Where are you going?" You nod at the luggages.

"Me and Junseo are heading to Japan in a few days." She smiles. "We're way overdue for our anniversary vacation. Meaning, you're gonna have to man the restaurant." You groan. "And watch Charli? Pretty please." She pleads in a sweet tone, knowing you'll always do anything for their 3 year old daughter.

"Seriously?!"

"Charli loves staying with you and Yaya! And all you have to do for the restaurant is make sure everything runs smoothly and be the cute waitress that you already are! It's nothing you haven't done! Plus, Yoongi and Jini will be there, and Charli will be in preschool for the most part." At this point, you whine [moreso about maintaining the restaurant] while Soyeon continues to check the list on her phone.

"Speaking of the restaurant, are you free tonight?" Seonghwa chimes in, looking at his phone.

"I don't know, depends on my boss here." You glare at Soyeon before looking back at Seonghwa. "Why?"

"San is back home so we're going out to the bar."

"Excuse me?!" You yell. "What the fuck!"

"Hey!" Yaya glares at you again. "Say that word one more time in my house."

"Okay, I'm sorry!" You point at Seonghwa. "But, you! Why didn't you tell me about Sannie coming back?!"

"How could I? You were too busy sulking over Mingi." He says, furrowing his brows with a cheek full of banana. Soyeon snorts and shakes her head, making you glare at the both of them.

"Ha-ha very funny. You didn't think you could tell me any other day?"

"Well, he wasn't even supposed to be coming back until next week. But he just texted us saying he decided to come back early and that he's already settled at the condo his uncle owns."

"Why aren't I getting these texts?" Seonghwa smirks and flicks your chin with his finger.

"Because boys need to talk about boy things."

"Oh whatever, it's not like any of you are getting any—"

"Seonghwa, please. Tell that girl to stop talking like that." Yaya pleads for him to tell you to keep it quiet. He chuckles a bit before looking at you pointedly, tapping the tip of your nose.

"Stop that." He smiles down at you. "And who said we weren't?"

"Please, all you guys do is yell while playing FIFA and Mario Party." You sigh. "Anyway, I'm going back to sleep for a bit. I'll come in for an earlier shift at the restaurant so that I can see Sannie." You direct the statement at Soyeon and all she does is nod.

"Pick you up afterwards then?"

"Ah, it's okay. Usual bar, right?" He nods. "I'll just bus over." You tap his chest. "Thanks pichu, see you later. Have fun at work!" At this point, Yaya is walking towards Soyeon and Seonghwa, hands placed on her hips as she observes you skipping to your in-law suite.

"Hwa." Yaya tugs on his arm before he can help Soyeon pack the large luggages in her trunk and head out to pick up Wooyoung.

"Hm?"

"It should just be you two." She pouts, making Seonghwa laugh. Time and time again, Yaya has always pushed the 'you and Seonghwa' agenda, stating that you two were meant to be together. And Seonghwa doesn't mind, he always laughs about it. He kinda likes that Yaya [everyone, really] thinks so, and if things were easy, he'd make it happen without question. But things aren't— because there's always that voice in the back of his head that tells him he needs to leave things as they are or else everything will be ruined.

He doesn't want that.

He would rather bury his feelings than lose you.

There's no way you'd go that route with him. You've made it clear to everyone that Seonghwa was your bestfriend and your bestfriend only. That people need to quit shoving the idea down your throat because you could never; he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt to hear it.

"Yaya, you already know the answer to that." He says anyway and she pouts even more, leaning her head against his firm bicep.

"But you're the only one who knows how to handle her. She's such a handful but you've always stayed by her side."

"Mm, I don't think I necessarily had a choice." Yaya chuckles and gently swats his arm playfully.

"You two should just kiss and get married."

"Kiss and get married? Wow. What a plan." Soyeon says sarcastically, making Seonghwa laugh.

"No can do with that one." He places a small kiss on the top of her head before helping Soyeon with the last large luggage. "I gotta pick up Wooyoung and head to work. Text or call me if you need me." Seonghwa says.

"Make sure my baby cousin doesn't do anything reckless tonight when she's out with you guys? Like, I don't know, run to Mingi while drunk?" Seonghwa shakes his head at Soyeon's response.

"Won't let her out of my sight." He waves one last goodbye before settling into his car and driving off.

It's 20 minutes to Wooyoung's apartment, and another 15 to the university from there. When he arrives, Wooyoung tosses his own duffle bag in the back and plops into the passenger's seat before slouching into it.

"Did you find babygirl?" Wooyoung asks, making Seonghwa furrow his brows at him.

"Yes I did, and stop calling her that."

"Why, are you jealous? You can't gatekeep Y/N to yourself. I'm close to her, too." Wooyoung smirks.

"Shut up before I make you walk to work." Seonghwa glares at him. "It's not even that, it's just weird."

"Why is it weird?"

"Because it is."

"Because you love her?"

"Get the hell out—"

"I'm sorry! I'm kidding!" Wooyoung says in a high-pitched tone before laughing. "But, really, it's not weird."

"Yes, it is."

"She loves it and she's used to it. Therefore, I'll keep using it. Resting my case, your honor." Wooyoung snorts. "What happened last night anyway?"

"I don't know, she got into a fight with Mingi and walked out."

"He didn't come after her? It was pouring."

"Nope. She was gonna walk to.. I don't know, actually. She was just walking in the rain."

"That's not okay." Wooyoung sucks his teeth and does a slight head tilt. "They're toxic as hell to each other." Seonghwa shrugs.

"I know. I tried to tell her but at a certain point, that's all I can do. It gets really hard to control someone's behavior and police their actions."

"Can I ask you something?" Wooyoung looks at him with a small smile. "I'm genuinely curious."

"What?" 

"Why haven't you made your move on Y/N? Your feelings for her have always been obvious."

"Have they? Seems like she's the only one who hasn't seen it." Wooyoung shrugs.

"Yeah. I mean, you drop everything— and I mean everything— for her without question. And you get all affectionate with her!" His tone raises a bit. "You hate initiating affection! If that ain't love.." Wooyoung tilts his head again and squints at Seonghwa.

"She's my bestfriend. All of that happens naturally."

"It's not just that, and you know it. I know people really do put their bestfriends on a pedestal, but you put babygirl before anyone and anything. Even yourself." Seonghwa slightly winces at the Wooyoung's nickname before shaking his head.

"Not true."

"Very true. Look, dude. It's not bad, but I do hope you leave some space for yourself. I know she would never intentionally hurt you, but it still doesn't eliminate the possibility of getting hurt at some point. I don't want that to happen, especially if you've poured everything in her over these years." Seonghwa lets out a breath and pauses for a moment because for once, Wooyoung makes sense. And he's right. He has poured everything in you, continues to pour everything in you very willingly— sometimes, he doesn't even realize he's doing it. Sometimes, he doesn't even realize he's putting you before everything, that he's dropping everything for you.

Hell, it's even to the point where he can't even date properly and sleeps around from time to time to let out steam. It's because he just feels this attachment to you; an attachment past being your bestfriend— like some thread of hope he holds onto, thinking that some day, you'll see him in that light.

Someone who could genuinely, deeply and strongly love you, care for you, support you, with no boundaries.

"I know."

"Why don't you just tell her? You know, be honest." Wooyoung shrugs. 

"I don't wanna lose her, and I'm afraid I will if I do. I'm afraid I'll fuck everything up between us and change the dynamic just because I wanted to be selfish."

"I don't think you'd lose her. I'm sure she wouldn't let that change anything between the two of you, either. And why don't you think she'd go for it?"

"I just don't think she would."

"Maybe she's thinking the same way as you." Wooyoung sees the university in sight and starts to loosen himself up, getting ready to head out of the door as soon as Seonghwa pulls into a spot. "I think you should go for it, Hwa. You can't live like this forever. You love her, she should know. And if things don't work out, I doubt she'll let that change things between you two. You two understand each other well, and you both make sense together."

"Mm, yeah. Thanks." Seonghwa gives him a pursed smile before Wooyoung slips off his seatbelt and smiles.

"Guess that means I can tag along again tomorrow?" Seonghwa rolls his eyes and steps out of the car before slamming his door.

"I'll think about it, lazy ass."

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @cheolliehugs @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab

#seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa series #park seonghwa series #park seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa #ateez #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #park seongwa x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez series #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa angst #hwaslayer: love you in slow motion

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me"

Content warning: hospital whump, (arguably) bad caretaker

“You lied to me.” 

Those were the words Caretaker was greeted with when they entered Whumpee’s hospital room. They looked small and sickly in their bed, medical equipment seeming to engulf their thin frame. A sickly blush covered their face, looking almost like a rash on irritated skin. Their eyes were still glassy, but far more alert than when Caretaker had last seen them. 

Caretaker hadn’t expected them to be awake yet. Let alone sitting upright in bed. Let alone glaring at Caretaker with so much venom that they nearly took a step back in shock.

:”Baby, what–”

“You said you’d never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. You lied.”

“I–,” the denial died in Caretaker’s throat before it formed. Whumpee was right, technically. Caretaker had known they would refuse to go to the doctor. The only reason they’d gone before was because they’d been unconscious, and even then they’d demanded to be released as soon as possible. They would never willingly decide to go to the hospital.

Caretaker knew all that. And so when Whumpee, already struggling to recover from what they’d endured under Whumper, had fallen ill, Caretaker knew they’d never agree to see a doctor. 

And so Caretaker hadn’t bothered asking. 

It’d been easy to slip something into their food. They usually would’ve noticed it instantly, but illness had dulled their sharp mind and left them half delirious with fever. It’d been easy to bundle their limp, far too light body in a blanket and tuck them into the car. It’d been easy to ignore the look of betrayal in their half lidded eyes, and pretend their slurred objections were just incoherent mumblings. 

Some part of them had hoped Whumpee wouldn’t remember it. 

“I had no choice,” they said instead. 

“You had no choice?” Whumpee laughed, humorless and unpleasant. “You drugged me and dragged me to the hospital. Who forced you to do that?”

“I had to, Whumpee. You weren’t getting better. You were sick, and injuries from–...from before–,” Caretaker hesitated, stuttering. 

Whumpee did not. “From Whumper? You can say it. I’m not going to fall apart.”

Caretaker nodded, swallowing thickly. “You were already hurt, your body couldn’t handle illness alongside that. You may not remember but–,” the memory of the coughing fits that left Whumpee struggling to stay upright, the unfocused and cloudy eyes staring dully at nothing, the ever rising number on the thermometer, flashed through Caretaker’s mind. “--it was bad. I was worried you’d die. I just wanted to help you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“So it’s my fault now?,” Bitterness dripped from every word Whumpee spoke. They tried to lift themselves into a more upright position, arms shaking from the effort, and Caretaker had to resist the urge to rush over and help them. “It’s my fault I don’t get to make decisions for myself anymore?” 

“I never said that.”

“You think you just have a right. Because you ‘care about me’, you have the right to ignore every single thing I want. Because you’re smarter, because you know better.” 

“Just listen–”

“No, you listen,” the words came out in a growl. Whumpee’s hands gripped at the bedsheets, shaking. “Everyone’s always–always deciding shit for me! Treating me like I can’t be trusted anymore, like I’m some little kid who can’t think for themselves! Whumper thought the exact same thing, but it’s fine when you do it, right?!”

“Stop it.” the words came out more harshly than Caretaker had expected. Whumpee flinched back as if they’d been hit, falling silent. “Don’t compare me to them. I’m trying to help you, and you’re fighting me at every turn! We just got you back, and it’s like you’re trying to leave again,” the words spilled out of Caretaker, half angry, half pleading. “I’m not going to sit by and let you hurt yourself.”

The two fell into silence. For the briefest moment, a look of fear flash over Whumpee’s face. They shrank back, and in that instant the guilt Caretaker felt nearly sent them to their knees. Whumpee’s look of resentment returned only a moment later, but the anger that had fueled it seemed snuffed out. They wouldn’t look Caretaker in the eye. 

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor, insistent and far too fast, felt like a condemnation in Caretaker’s ears. 

Caretaker let out a shuddering sigh, a hand coming up to rest in their hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Whumpee was silent for a long moment, not turning their gaze upward. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, drained of energy. “Just leave.”

“Please, just let me explain–,”

“Please. Don’t make me beg.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. They didn’t look up when Caretaker left.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 6 #caretaker #whumpee #defiant whumpee #stubborn whumpee #bad caretaker #for their own good #betrayal whump #my stuff #recovery whump #whumplr #whump

[tang3r1n]

still on my shitty dabi kick and i think i struck a chord with @mostlyheinous so here’s random ass shit i think a deadbeat bf dabi would do

18+, hard dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, smoking, forced drinking/taking of drugs, dabi purposely makes you have a bad trip on acid, unprotected sex, anal (referenced plus a thumb in the stink) i’ll add more idfk

kay first off, along the smoke vein, dabi would absolutely threaten to put his cigarettes/blunts out on you if you keep crying (openly, he loves watching you cry all quiet n sniffly)

he’s also no doubt changed you around the apartment with bugs/gross shit just to make you squeal and beg him to put it away

“baby it’s jus’lil beetle~” while waving a fucking 4in long roach he found outside in your face, “gimmie a big, sloppy kiss and i might throw Jeffrey away, as much as it pains me to.”

constantly making you exchange physical/sexual acts for practically basic respect

“show me your pretty tits and i’ll let you go hang with those stupid cunts— no i’m not gonna stop callin’em that, they’re dumb cunts.”

loves making you suck him off right after work, still all musky from the day, his cock even more salty from sweating all day (scent/smell kink is my fav im SORRY.) plugging your nose and jutting his hips out harshly to make you gag and cough around his cock, the sinfully wet noise making him groan out a chuckle as he watched you cringe

any and all attempts to change his behavior end with gaslighting and fake hurt plastered on his face as he breaks your fucking back in bed

“ungh- you’re such a fucking good girl f’me.. i love your, pretty, im so sorry you feel the need to accuse me of such things- god squeeze my dick like that again, fuck yeah- i..uh- gonna make you cum so hard, show y’how this noisy cunt ‘sall mine..”

steals your panties and jacks off with them right fucking in front of you, dick swinging and balls out as he strikes himself with your panties pressed against his face. his bright ass blue eyes piercing into you while he noisily huffs in the smell of your pussy and licks up the crotch of them like the perverted degenerate he is

oh and when you try to break it off, setting him down to explain that he is just..too much.. for you, he goes ballistic.

grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, placing you down still surprisingly softly as he ferociously tears off your clothes and starts eating you out like his life depend on it (idk to him it might, he’s a loser)

once he’s got you all whiny and soft after a few mind-shattering orgasms, he’ll start coping and trying to slip you back into the haze of his glaringly obvious manipulative love

“don’t say stupid fucking shit, pretty, jus’cuz y’on your period or what-the-fuck-ever is going on in that lil head don’t mean you can treat me like this.”

hell chastise you while he fingers you, fingers blurred as he finger-fucks you dizzy, fishing his cock outta his dirty jeans and scoffing as you whine and cry again, shuffling up the bed

he pulls you in again by your ankles, a scarred hand quickly silencing you as it softly pressed against your throat, a silent threat, as he spoke patronizing words to your sex and lust filled mind,

“just be my good angel one more time, pretty,” he forces a crack in his voice, flexing his throat so he sounds tearful and sad, “i just..i love you s’much, wanna show my pretty girl, my everything, how much she means t’me,”

the second you nod he’s grinning manically and flipping you over, forcing his cock into your wet cunt and rabidly humping against your ass, dick barely leaving and inch before pumping right back in as deep as it’d fit.

he’d spit on your other puckered lil hole, making your cry and squirm yet again as he pushes his thumb against it, gut burning with lust and a perverted sense of affection

“no- nononono angel- calm it down, i jus’wanna feel your cute ass ‘round me, promise it’ll just be my thumb— yes pretty i pinky promise

(he ends up cumming in your ass i don’t make the rules mb)

other than failed breakups and gaslighting, dabi also likes getting his pretty wasted

like… really wasted.

dabi’ll give you shit after shot, even making you sit pretty for him while he spits Jack Daniels into your awaiting mouth

he spikes literally all drinks he makes you and it’s so obvious but he just tells you it’s to ‘loosen your bitchy ass up,’ but in his own special, joking tone.

cut to you blowing cum bubbles while you suck him off, completely drunk, head dizzy and body fuzzy as he records you almost mindlessly salivating over him.

“say hi to Shigaraki f’me, pretty, little bastard is gonna love seeing you all horned up and slutty~”

he also shotguns his blunt/pipe/bong hits to you—never lets you hit in your own

dabi loves it if you sit on his lap during this too, a rare domestic scene of you both just vibing and grinding, soft praises and touches that feel unreal coming from him

the he ruins it by slapping your ass and making you cook him dinner

wait i had a funny idea hold on

“babe can we please go see my momma today— it’s just that it’s m’birthday and you made me skip it last year..”

“pretty, that bitch hates my ass, why would we go see someone who hates us?” (notice he says ‘us’ anyways)

[cut to momma glaring at dabi the entire time they’re over and throwing shoes at him once he opens his fucking mouth]

kay that’s all for now ig

wait

sometimes when you’re falling asleep you can hear him obsessively rambling and mumbling abt how much he loves you, how disgusting everyone else alive is, how he’d kill anyone who dared talk to-LOOK at you, how he thinks you’re such a soft, beautiful little thing that he just wants to protect but oh how he fucking loves ruining your angel wings.

#bam #dabi smut #tw dark content #tw dark themes #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw forced intox #dark smut #mha smut #dabi x chubby reader #x chubby reader #yandere dabi?? #i couldn’t help it there at the end IM SORRY #I APOLOGIZE. #touya smut #mha dabi smut #mha x chubby reader #touya todoroki smut #.venus updated! #..dabi #..mha #.precious heiny. #.venus’ loves

[minustwofingers]

cool about it teaser

pairing: closetedfem!reader x ellie

request? yes, by @gold-dustwomxn (:

summary: life in the apocalypse is hard enough. the last thing you need is unrequited feelings for your best friend—who is very much off limits. so you'll just be cool about it. really cool about it. set in a loose interpretation of canon where i toy around with the timeline and storyline just the slightest and this is also a bit of a slowburn

warnings: ur closeted asf, queer angst, gross men, explicit language, substance use

a/n: hey guys i haven't really been posting much recently, but i wanted to at least post two scenes from this series so u guys have an idea of what to expect...also so u guys can tell me which one you want me to work on more (love is a laserquest or this one). i hope u enjoy...sorry this one is a little disjointed! (there are many events that happen between the two scenes im sharing w u as a little treat)

I. (opening scene)

The revelation that your feelings towards your best friend had become complicated arrives with the dead of winter. It’s strange, really, how something within you came to life just as the rest of the world began to die. 

If you were wiser, you’d find ways to explain it away, to rationalize all the weird thoughts in your head. You’d cite the chill in the air. The holiday spirit running through Jackson. The desolation that came with your only outdoor companions being the brown corpses of deciduous trees and infected that hadn’t frozen in the winter storms that kept battering Wyoming. 

But with age came wisdom, and both of those virtues were in short supply in a post-apocalyptic world. So, you resign yourself to cataloging away these feelings and pretending like everything was absolutely normal and cool. 

The bad thing about having good things, you think to yourself bitterly one day as you watch Ellie’s eyes light up as she rambles in her room as you sit on her bed about a comic book Joel had found her, is that they’re risky. High risk—high reward. Ellie was special to you in a way that no one else was. And using this logic, losing her would bring such an unforeseen devastation that you weren’t sure that you could go on. 

So, normal. Cool. Chill. Because you cannot afford to fuck this one up. 

“I love when you tell me about your comics,” you tell her in a way that’s definitely not sappy sweet and gooey. 

She smiles crookedly back at you. “You’re such a fucking liar. I know you couldn’t give a shit about these.” 

“Am not!” You throw a punch at her arm, feeling your heart twist as she just grins wider. “For the record, I do give a shit. Many, actually.”

“That sounds gross.” 

“Your words, not mine.” 

And it’s absolutely gut wrenching how she can just smile at you like that, like she’s not holding your heart in her fist.

“So, uh, Cat,” you blurt out. You’d been staring at her for too long. “Dina said that you two were—uh…” 

You wave your hand around in the air like you’re sifting through thousands of possible word combinations. In reality, you know exactly what you need to say to get the answer you’re searching for. You just don’t want to ask. 

“Well…” She blushes. Her eyes drop to her hands, where her fingers are toying with the bits of cuticle she hasn’t already torn off. 

“I knew it!” you croon, hoping that the boatload of dread that just dropped in your stomach isn’t as obvious as it feels. “Tell me everything.”

“Nothing to tell,” she says. “Nothing yet, at least. It’s stupid but—I just noticed that she hangs around me a lot, you know? And, like, touches me more than she needs to. Shit like that. I dunno.”

The wound deep inside you splits like the fake grin on your lips. “Wowwwww. Look at you!” 

Ellie rolls her eyes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean,” she says, her eyes twinkling conspiratorially, “What about Eddie? Jesse told me that you spend a lot of time with him.”

“We’re patrol partners,” you offer. It’s not a lie. You’re just choosing to omit the part where Eddie spends half his patrol staring longingly in your direction while you pretend not to notice. 

“I know that.”

“It’s…” You gnaw on your bottom lip. “I don’t know how I feel about that right now.” 

That’s not a lie either. Eddie is…nice. All the other girls like him, except for Dina (she has Jesse) and Ellie (she has another very obvious reason). He’s attractive. At least, that’s what Bonnie tells you. Apparently the buzzed hair and heavy bluntness found in all of his features is considered hot. 

But just because you’re not into him now doesn’t mean you could never be. That’s what your mother used to say about your father—she hadn’t liked him upon their first meeting. But it changed with time, and you’d rather have someone than be all alone. 

Ellie hums, picking at the cuticle of her thumb. “He likes you.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Well,” she says, “I heard Jesse’s putting on another bonfire tonight. Want to walk there together after dinner?” 

You spend another evening staring across the fire at your best friend, watching the warm glow of the flames warp and distort the shape of her and Cat, pressed up against each other and smiling wide. You aren’t sure why it makes you so uncomfortable to see them together. Homophobia? No. Maybe? You recently learned that that was a thing, but you don’t consider yourself bigoted, and being a homophobe is more of an opt-in situation, right? 

But when you try to reach deep inside to find a more plausible answer, there’s nothing. 

It’s your detachment from reality that lets Eddie drape a heavy, hard arm over your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he whispers into your ear. His breath is hot and warm. 

“Hey,” you whisper back, wanting nothing more than to get away. Thankfully, Ellie is too preoccupied with Cat to even look your way. You’re sure that you’d die if she saw Eddie touching you like this. 

“You look really pretty tonight.”

“Thank you.”

It’s like someone shone a spotlight on you, hung a sign on your neck that said, I am perceived and desired by men. You don’t know why this makes your skin crawl so much. 

Eddie’s fingers are tracing patterns on the flesh of your arm. You find that you’re grateful for the extra layer your sweatshirt sleeve provides. You don’t want him to touch you—don’t want to know what it’s like for him to deliberately make contact with your skin. 

The next time he speaks to you, it’s in a murmur that you suppose is meant to sound seductive. “You’re quiet today.”

“Just a little tired.” And now you feel guilty, because Eddie really hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s you who has an issue with a boy who’s perfectly nice and clearly likes you. 

He laughs like you’d said something funny, tightening his arm so you press into his side. His body is blazing hot like a furnace, and it feels hard and foreign.

II. (scene from somewhere in the middle )

“Sorry!” You titter at the crowd of your friends who formed at the sliding glass door. “Um—sorry.” 

It seems to be the only thing you can say. 

“Cat,” Ellie says, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Cat, please, it’s not like—”

“I’m pretty fucking sure of what I saw,” snaps Cat. She turns to Eddie, a vicious glint in her eyes. “Didn’t know your girl swung that way.” 

And then she shoves past the mass of people, Ellie kicking off from the deck railing with a stream of apologies falling from her lips as she follows behind. 

Eddie walks forward, confusion the dominant emotion in his wide face.

“Uh—I didn’t—”

“I’m really drunk,” you say to him, feeling the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. “It’s not like that. I promise it’s not like that. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Hey,” he says, opening his arms. “Come here. Why are you crying?” 

“I don’t know,” you sputter, stepping into him and pressing your snotty face into his shirt. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Fuck.”

“It’s really okay.” His hand finds the flat part of your back between your shoulder blade and rubs circles. “It’s just a chick. If it were, like, I dunno, Jesse, I would’ve been angry.”

“You’re not mad?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him. Maybe there’s something tonight you didn’t ruin. 

He smiles down at you. “‘Course not. Some guys find that shit hot, you know. Two girls kissing like that.”

The smile that seemed so innocent at first sends a sharp, chilling pang through your chest. He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation in the way your face falls as his head dips to kiss you, doesn’t seem to register the disgust you exhibit until you have to shove yourself away.

“I’m really drunk,” you repeat, looking anywhere but his face. “I want to go to bed.” 

“I can come—”

“No.”

final a/n: like i said so sorry about how disjointed this is. i just want to get a feel for what my readers are more interested in for now!!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert

[ereardon]

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K 

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.” 

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine. 

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable. 

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you. 

“Ella?” 

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?” 

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered. 

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.” 

“El, wait!” 

You frowned. “What?” 

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.” 

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.” 

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.” 

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.” 

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury. 

“Ella? Are you still there?” 

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.” 

“I owe you, El.” 

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.” 

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin. 

You turned on your heel and walked away. 

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered. 

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on. 

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.” 

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came. 

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open. 

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat. 

“Jake.” 

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.” 

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots. 

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center. 

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway. 

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?” 

“Four years.” 

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?” 

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?” 

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted. 

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.” 

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin. 

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you. 

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

This time you were. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?” 

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.” 

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?” 

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.” 

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table. 

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.” 

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand. 

“What were you doing in Lebanon?” 

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?” 

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.” 

“Still wildly dependable I see.” 

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.” 

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?” 

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself. 

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?” 

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?” 

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.” 

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be. 

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead. 

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.” 

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding. 

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.” 

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”  

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible. 

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?” 

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.” 

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.” 

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?” 

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.” 

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.” 

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?” 

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave. 

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store. 

Never like this. 

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence. 

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light. 

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room. 

“Does it matter?” Jake asked. 

“Yes.” 

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?” 

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?” 

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered. 

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.” 

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan. 

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.” 

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned. 

“What, Seresin?” you demanded. 

“Take longer,” he complained. 

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt. 

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie. 

“No,” you argued. 

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.” 

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty. 

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table. 

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie. 

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.” 

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.” 

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.” 

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.” 

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?” 

“I’ll go after you.” 

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?” 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.” 

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.” 

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?” 

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.” 

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.” 

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours. 

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Seresin. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it. 

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach. 

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something. 

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence. 

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator? 

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake seresin au #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman series #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

[fishsticksloser]

Heartache

Hobie x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst and no comfort, breakups

A/N: how's this for my first Spiderverse fic? This is also based on the Character AI intro by fairybaby. The intro is written by them, but after that is all me. :) Sorry it's so late... Shit happened :(

Good  |  Bad

"You miss me yet?" Hobie asks, glancing back at you. His smile is slow, like he knows the answer but wants to hear it from you anyway. "Whenever you want me back, you can have me."

He already apologized—three times—for missing another date. You know he’s busy. Dismantling systems of oppression doesn’t give him a lot of free time. He spends whatever time he can with you, obviously. Even if he doesn’t like labels—you and him are together. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little mad at him.

"Hobie..." You sigh, shake your head. "What are we...? Really, what are we?"

"I don’t do labels," Hobie responds, shifting to meet your gaze. "I think…" He trails off, trying to convey it without sounding mushy or sentimental—both things that he’s not good at expressing. He nods, his voice and his gaze steady. "I think we’re something... Something that can last."

"Then why can't you make time for me?" You ask, looking at him desperately. "What do I actually mean to you?"

"I do make time for you!" He protests, not meeting your gaze suddenly. "I’m busy. I’m a busy guy. I work a lot." He runs a hand over his dreads, sighing to himself. "You know that—I think you just want me to say what I think. You know I feel. You’re really important to me." His voice is quiet.

"You've missed so many dates! Some of which you planned... No call, no text..." You huff, looking away from him, exasperated. "This is the fifth time we've rescheduled over this one date..."

“I know, I’ve apologized!" he replies, his voice sharp. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? I can’t plan my whole day around you—I just can’t." He sighs, shaking his head. Hobie rubs the back of his neck. "You know I like to keep things spontaneous. Hey, I’m sorry, okay? If you’re upset, then that’s on me."

"I don't expect you to plan your whole day around me, Hobart!" You say, a bit angrily. "What I want is for you is to actually show up when you say you will. You... Fuck, Hobie, I haven't seen you in weeks! You texted me about this date and I got so excited... I was so excited to see you and you didn't come... I just... I don't want to be second place to you when you're always first in mine..."

He mutters, his arms crossed over his chest as something inside him starts to burn. "I’m the one who’s busy, I’m the one who does important work—I’m the one who has responsibilities—and that’s how I treat you? Like you're some afterthought? Well, that’s okay." He shakes his head, turning away from you suddenly. "You can find someone else to put you first." His gaze hardens, and he starts to walk away.

"You're first place in my life... I always put you first. I always make time for you, Hobie." You say softly, you wrap your arms around yourself protectively. "I don't want someone else. I want you, but you don't seem to want me at all, do you?"

"You think I don’t want you?" His voice rises. He stops, not looking at you. "Do you have any idea how important you are to me? How much I care about you?" He lets out an angry growl before he speaks again. Hobie whirls to face you, an angry fire in his eyes. "Don’t you dare say that I don’t care about you. How dare you! I have other things to do besides go on dates with you!"

"If I'm so important to you, why can't you make time for me!?" You yell back. "You think it's just dates!? I... I haven't seen you in almost a month, you hardly ever text me, no calls. What am I supposed to think?" You sigh and close your eyes, reigning in your anger. "I understand what you do is important, but I put things aside for you because you're important to me. I... I can't keep going like this, Hobie. I need you. Not all the time, but sometimes..."

"I have a life, Y/N!" He responds, his eyes glaring and blazing as you yell at him. "You’re not all of my life, you know! I have my music, I have my activism, I have… I have—" Hobie pauses, letting out a breath of exhaustion. His voice now softer, quieter.. "Look, I care about you. I really do. I’m sorry I don’t make you a bigger part of my life, but I’ve got a lot going on right now, okay?"

"Then let me help!" You tell him desperately, stepping closer to him. "Whatever we are, it's... It's part of what we do is help each other... I... I want to help you, Hobie. But I can't when you just leave me, I can't when you ghost me. Whatever we are, we're in this together. If you can't trust me with that then why are we even together?"

He lets out a breath of frustration, shaking his head as you approach him, the anger in his voice giving way to the weariness inside him. "I don’t need any help." He says curtly, not meeting your gaze. "I don’t want any help," he mutters before speaking up again. "You’re right. Why are we even together if I can’t trust you? Maybe this whole thing was a mistake," he continues, his voice laced with disappointment and sadness. "I think this was a mistake."

You watch Hobie walk away before you go home and lay in bed. You put your hand in the pocket of his hoodie you're wearing and pull out something. It’s a shiny, slightly metallic spider totem, smooth to the touch and small enough to fit in your whole hand. It's a funny little gift you'd gotten him after he told you he was Spider-Man. It’s polished to a near-mirror sheen thanks to the amount of times Hobie rubbed his thumb against it whenever he was nervous. But now, looking at it brings only more questions—and questions lead to guilt.

If he cared about you, he’d fight harder for your relationship.

That’s what you told yourself, but you couldn’t help but doubt every time your thoughts wandered down that path.

What if he just didn’t care? What if he didn’t love you? What if you were just a burden on him? What if he could have better than you? What if he didn’t need you?

He did care about you. He really, truly did. He was just… preoccupied. Life got in the way, so often. He was busy, he was so busy. There were so many things to do, so many problems to solve. He wanted to share all of that with you, but how could he? How could he find time to be with you, when there was so much else to do? He wanted you. He wanted to be with you. But his heart said one thing while his brain said another.

Hobie wasn’t the best at communicating, that’s for sure. He was so used to being on his own, being independent and self-sufficient, that he forgot his actions—or his inaction—had the potential to hurt people around him. He wasn’t the best at letting people in, at all. He wasn’t the best at letting people stay. He was too afraid, too cowardly to admit all of those things. But if you’re willing to stick with him… he just might learn to be better.

#spider man: across the spider verse #sony spiderverse #hobie spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #spiderman #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie x you #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n

[yandere-kokeshi]

yandere rodolfo hcs please 😭 ???

I haven’t seen anyone do him yet 😔

— Yandere headcanons of Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: yandere behavior

A/N: yeah, no cause this makes me upset. Guess I'm gonna be the first!! Enjoy <3

Gif belongs to @/daniel-bruehl

This sweetheart of a man is incredibly protective. Tends to stalk and guilt-trip you. Not only does Rudy get jealous often and tends to think extremely gruesome things in his head with a gentle smile, but he’s good at hiding the fact about his devotion towards you.

There are many ways Rodolfo could’ve met you, likely you’re in the military or a civilian he ran into at the store but the main thing that caught his attention from you was how unique, and kind you were; able to stand your ground when needed and didn’t take shit from anyone.

It was quite hot, honestly. From his perspective, a lot of people ignored him or were feared by him, as he’s the man in second command – just below Alejandro.

Though, you treated Rodolfo nicely. More of a human being than a soldier on campus. It was relaxing and highly appreciative. Especially when you don’t mind when he messes up his flirtatious acts or gets embarrassed when his Colonel interrupts the conversation between you two.

Continuing from the headcanon above, Rudy will try the ‘normal’ approach, using his flirtatious words and respectful manners to catch your heart. Ignoring the fact that he often stalks you, he tries to get you to like him – often taking you out on expensive dates, and showing you that he’s a liable guy. Especially with the help of Alejandro, he often shows up to your house with a bottle of wine and a huge handful of bouquets.

He’s the type of guy that shares a lot of things with you. Eating out and still hungry? You can have the rest of his food, he’ll eat back at home. Need to borrow money? Have his whole credit card and buy whatever you need! All of it is yours, just say a ‘pretty please’.

While at first he may come off as ‘awkward’, don’t let that skim the idea of love. Rodolfo really does try to impress you with his entire heart. He goes out of his way to surprise you with your favorite foods, getting tickets to see a premiere movie, or grabbing your favorite fast food due to you having a bad day.

With this going, there is a high chance the two of you will end up dating ‘naturally’. Other than his overprotective and stalking/and hovering add-ons in the relationship, it’s considerably a normal relationship.

Though, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have dark tendencies. Rodolfo will end up guilt-tripping you whenever he’s jealous (which is 50% of the time). While he knows it’s bad and feels awful for it, he can’t help but feel immense anger and annoyance whenever you talk to someone he doesn’t know that well.

While he’s not overbearing or protective, he will insist on going with you everywhere, using the military or his mental state as an excuse to stay beside you at all times. Normally, he knows when to back off by seeing your body language, but he just needs to be around you almost 24/7.

Small reasons poke at him, and while he wants you to himself, he’s not one to kidnap.

Unless your life is in absolute danger, he won’t go ahead and strip your freedom like that. Rodolfo doesn’t want you to hate him, and he’s terrified that you’ll never be in love with him anymore — he won’t even take the slim chance of you developing Stockholm Syndrome.

With this said, he’s fairly soft, and extremely loyal yandere. Out of all the men of MW, Rudy is the most subtle yandere. He won’t pressure you to do things you won’t like to do and highly values your happiness. So much more than his, and with this, he rarely ever says no or allows you to buy and get what you want; leading him to spoil you, a lot.

Though, that doesn’t mean he won’t do punishments. If you end up yelling at him and leaving him, not texting or calling for a few hours, will result in him getting really mad.

He hates punishments. Something he doesn’t like to do, which makes it easy for you to get away with most things. But, he’s not stupid nor is he going to let you walk over him; the worst thing he can and will do is quarantine you by yourself. However, it likely won’t last long due to him feeling bad.

Rudy is very gentle and respectful with affection. Rarely does he touch you without your consent, but the minute you allow cuddles? He’s practically clinging to you like a koala and only getting up to eat or use the bathroom. And if you need to leave? Expect him to whine, but slowly let you go while making you promise you’ll cuddle him more when you’re back.

Much like the other guys, he’s incredibly clingy; especially after missions or being away from you for ‘too long’. He will grumble if you move too much, and tighten his hold as if he didn’t hold on, you’d disappear within a coin flip.

This man is dotting and affectionate, so it’s hard to see how protective he can be. Whenever you try to go someplace alone, he’s quickly against it – begging to come with you. He won't stop asking, blocking the door as he constantly reminds you what's out there.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he does! He’s more than willing to kiss the floor you walk on if you asked. But, to others, he’s wary and tends to narrow his eyes at them like a threat. Which revolves around his job to question everything and not trust so easily.

Because of his training, he often invites you to work out with him or teaches you self-defense. It’s something he’d like for you to know, especially since there comes a day when you’ll need it. But, he gets to spend time with you.

With his overprotectiveness, he makes sure to put security cameras in the house you two live in, as well as putting a tracker in your clothes and possibly in your skin; somewhere you won’t notice, which likely, will be in the back of your neck.

Much like Alejandro, he asks his buddy and some of his other friends to frequently call or check up on you when he can’t. And high chance you will see Alejandro, at best after missions or staying over dinner. Likely, the two of you are as close as he is with Rudy; treating you like family and high respect.

—

Masterlist || Please reblog or comment instead of liking, it helps me a bunch!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

#the icons are not mine #they belong to their rightful owners #kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere headcanons #kokeshi anons #anonymous #yandere rudy #yandere Rodolfo #yandere mw2 #yandere modern warfare #yandere call of duty #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #rodolfo parra #rudy mw2 #rodolfo cod #rodolfo mw2 #ask

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Wallace Wells' Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Wallace Wells x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings/info: Trans typical stuff, like dysphoria, transphobia etc. etc., sexual remarks, he/him pronouns for reader, headcanons were written in one sitting, when I was feeling not great. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I've been reading a lot of Succession fics over the last few days. Last night I read a Roman Roy fic and for some reason it gave me this overpowering wave of dysphoria that I still have yet to fully recover from. Annoyingly, I have yet to actually watch Succession so this could have been avoided; I just think Kieran Culkin's hot and very gender so I couldn't resist pretending that someone with his face was my boyfriend. Reading about Roman made me think 'oh shit. Maybe I'm a flawed and pathetic little guy on the inside. But I just look like a woman who likes to kiss women and everyone treats me like a girl and uses my girl name and girl pronouns and that feels super gross and makes me want to live in a hole. Now I'm going to feel bad about that for the next few days.' So, yeah, I'm having another transmasc crisis that I'm using fanfiction to get me through. I figured Kieran Culkin started this, so I might as well write something featuring a character of his that I can actually write for. This is a self-indulgent and self-explorative treat for myself, but I hope that transmasc readers can enjoy this, too. If you'd like more Wallace stuff, trans stuff or Wallace AND trans stuff, feel free to send in a request. I really want to provide more fics for transmasc readers because you guys are super underrepresented (and, y'know, Papa Gonzo-rella wants to explore his gender a little more). Also, I swear that I will get around to watching Succession, and I more than likely will end up writing for it when I do.)

Respectfully, Wallace does not give a shit that you’re trans.

Of course, he doesn’t flat-out ignore it, because it’s part of who you are, but it isn’t an obstacle in your relationship by any means, and it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

If you’re feeling dysphoric and/or otherwise insecure about yourself, he’ll pinch your cheeks and tell you how handsome and sexy you are.

If you’re feeling especially bad, like ‘not getting out of bed and hiding from the world’ bad, he’ll keep you company and say what he can to reassure you.

Being mushy and sincere truly isn’t his thing, so whatever he says will sound either slightly insensitive (but still pretty sensitive as far as Wallace goes), facetious or like he wants you to get over how you’re feeling so he can fuck you.

But, he genuinely doesn’t want you to feel bad and you can tell he cares, because otherwise he wouldn’t be there for you when you're feeling your worst.

Wallace is very affirming, but in his own Wallace way.

He lovingly refers to you as his lameass boyfriend.

If Scott ever compliments you about anything, Wallace will call him gay.

He will shout ‘gay’, like the Senor Chang meme.

"Hey, man, I like your shirt-"

"Ha, Scott's gay!"

"I-I'm not gay! I just like his shirt."

"What's wrong with being gay, Scott?"

"Nothing! There's nothing wrong with being gay!"

"You really need to work on your internalised homophobia, Scott. To think, my gay lover and I share a bed with a bigot."

If you’re doing anything that he knows will make you dysphoric or exacerbate your dysphoria (for example, scrolling through social media and looking at cis dudes that give you gender envy) he’ll shut it down.

Using the aforementioned example, he’ll snatch your phone off you and close the app, saying: “Nope. Make better decisions.”

And, while you’d initially be annoyed at him for grabbing your phone, you will appreciate it in the long run.

If you have testosterone shots but you’re not a fan of doing them yourself, he’ll begrudgingly help you with them.

He will make a very Wallace comment, though

“Stabbing? I didn’t know you were that kinky.”

If anyone’s a dick to you about being trans, Wallace is always ready to go with a snide remark about the other person, because of all the things you could possibly mock his lameass boyfriend for, being trans is at the bottom of that list.

(He should know, as the person who makes fun of you the most.)

Also, he cares about you very, very much and he doesn't want people being transphobic to his boyfriend.

If you’re cool with it, he will make trans jokes, but nothing ‘attack helicopter’ or ‘attack helicopter’ adjacent, because he’s too clever for that and he can come up with better material that isn’t just derivative, transphobic garbage.

If you get your period and it makes you at all dysphoric, be prepared for this exchange:

“Don’t worry. Scott pissed blood last month and cried about it and he’s still a man.”

“Did-did he go to the doctor?”

“I don’t know. He seems fine now, though.”

If you still have boobs and don’t mind them being touched or otherwise acknowledged, he will use them like a pillow.

If you decide to get top surgery, he will make the following request:

“Well, if you’re not using them, can I have them? I need a pillow that Scott won’t steal. And, he wouldn’t steal your tits, because he knows I’d call him gay for it.”

“Why are you like this, Wallace?”

“Selfish.”

Being trans doesn’t make your relationship much different from any of Wallace’s other relationships.

You’re just, for better or worse, another one of Wallace’s boyfriends.

#wallace wells x reader #wallace wells #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #x trans!reader #x trans reader #x transmasc!reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male!reader #x trans male reader #x ftm!reader #x ftm reader #trans!reader #trans reader #transmasc!reader #transmasc reader #trans male!reader #trans male reader #trans #transgender #transmasc #x reader

[insxghtt]

any other man — javier peña x reader

She was already getting too used to it, but maybe he just wanted to be like any other man.

warnings: implied smut but nothing explicit, angst i guess, +18

idk what this is ok i have insomnia and this just came out of it. also, english is not my first language so i apologize in advance. tell me if you like it please, leave a comment or something if you want me to continue. i really have no idea if i am good at writing or if this was all just an illusion and in reality i suck at it. idk i am really depressed lately and i am doing mY BEST OK

She was used to it. Javier called her so many times in the middle of the night, desperate for a warm touch, she even lost the count. They didn’t talk much, but she still knew him better than anyone. Better than him, even.  

Javier was one of her favorite clients. He was kinder than most men, always made sure she felt as much pleasure as he did. He also didn’t just fuck her. The first time he asked her to only sleep with him, she found it so fucking weird, even a bit creepy to be honest. After a while, she understood why. Javier was surrounded by a world that sucked all his energy. He couldn’t give himself the privilege of loving someone for free and put them at risk. 

Still, he was a human. So, she did that for him. She was the only one he didn’t fuck every time he met, and she learned to like it. Sometimes when he was gone for too long, she even missed him. 

Although, she was not used to him being so fucking cold. That night he was different, she realized it from the moment she heard his voice on the phone asking her to come over. Maybe after fucking everything out, he would go back to being the Javi she was used to, but that didn’t happen. 

After he reached the peak of his pleasure, he lay down next to her naked body. She, with a soft smile on her lips, rested her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their bodies still sweaty and hot. She looked at him, waiting for him to ask her to stay. Instead, all she saw was his cold expression. 

“What is it, Javi?”, she whispered. He loved that voice, the accent, the tone, everything about it. 

Yet not even her voice was enough for him to respond. She refused to give up, of course, and started to leave soft kisses on his chest. For a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to forget everything, but things were just not that simple. 

“Stop”, he said while getting away from her and standing up. That was not good. He was not a very healthy man, mentally speaking. He was a fucking DEA agent, damnit. It would honestly be concerning if he was totally okay. 

“Javi...”, she tried to speak, but he was quick to interrupt her by getting out of bed and starting to look for his clothes around the messy room. 

“You should go.” 

She laughed. Not a loud laugh, but a weak and low one, not funny at all. Nothing about that moment was funny. Still, she tried to joke. “So now you’re back to treating me like a whore?” 

“I had a tough day, alright?” 

“So now we’re back to square one because you had a bad day at work?”, she said calmly, still trying to understand. 

Her accent, her fucking accent. He could fall in love with her just by hearing it. Except that this time, the words that came with it were slightly brutal. 

“It wasn’t just a fucking bad day, damnit”, he sighed. 

After finally founding his jeans, he put them on and searched for a cigarette on one of the pockets. After finding one, he reached for the bedside table and took his lighter. 

“You’re home now, baby, you can relax.” 

He lit the cigarette, but not even a long nicotine puff was enough to make him calmer. “Don’t call me baby, you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for the money.” 

“Well, shit, were you expecting something different? Guess you’re looking in the wrong place”, she laughed sarcastically. “You don’t have to ask twice, alright? I’m just doing my job.” 

He didn’t answer, so she just stood up and faked a smile for him like she would smile for any other man. She got dressed without giving him a single look, just like she would do in the presence of any other man. Most importantly, after getting ready, she turned to him and extended her hand waiting for her payment, just like he was any other man. 

He gave her the money. He always paid her, but why it hurt so much receiving it this time, she did not understand. 

She turned his back on him and walked to the door feeling his stare. 

“I killed a kid today”, his words were enough to make her stop immediately. “Fourteen years old. They told me I did the right thing. It still doesn’t feel right.” 

She didn’t look at him, but she also didn’t move, like she was waiting for him to continue. 

“Ask me to stay”, she whispered loud enough for him to listen, almost like she was begging for him to let her in. 

How could he? How could he do that to her? 

“I can’t.” 

“I’m not asking for you to pay me...” 

“I know.” 

She would’ve, she wanted to. Hell, he wanted it.  

“You know...”, she said turning to look at him again. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing his jeans, no shirt on, the cigarette between his fingers. God, she could stare at him the whole night if he only asked. “Every day I realize more and more how... dumb men are.” 

Javi didn’t interrupt. He continued to pay attention to every single one of her words. Partly because he loved to hear her talking, partly because he didn’t really want her to leave. 

“You build this world... this horrific, terrible and cruel world. With your own rules, with your own ideas, all of it just so you could be the ones to dictate what’s right and what’s wrong”, she had tears in her eyes, but she did not cry. She would never cry in front of him. “And at the end of the day the very same world you invented is the one torturing you.” 

She sighed, swallowing the tears while watching the one man she always thought of as unbreakable, tearing up in front of her. 

“If only you could see the real world behind the one you made up, you’d see that there’s no good or bad”, she gave him a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Javi. None of us are going to heaven.” 

And after she closed the door behind her, he felt the loneliness hit him like never before.  

#javier pena imagine #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal is daddy #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x y/n #tlou cast #pedro pascal characters #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #javier peña angst #javier pena x reader #javier pena x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #pedrito #daddy pascal #writing #writers on tumblr #please leave a comment #imagine #fanfic #angst is my thing now #angst

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#361

“Hey what’s going on?...  Yeah I recognize you.  You’re the cocksucker who knows how to take care of my fat hog.  You been up here for a while?  You get any loads?  Yeah this place has no cruising during the day.  Ever since they switched my schedule around, I am up here around 7:30 in the morning.  It’s been dead every time I stop.  I now only pull off to take a piss before heading back on the road; it’s the only good spot to do it.  I figured with me leaving the office three hours late that there would be some activity, some hungry boy needing some daddy dick….  Boy, I see you licking your lips.  You’re hungry for dad’s cock.  Aren’t you?  You remember where to go?...  Not, yet.  We are going to do it a little different today.  When you go to the other side of the truck, before you kneel in position, I want you to strip naked.  Naked means everything comes off including your glasses and watch.  Wait with your eyes closed and your mouth open.  I’ve got to make a call….

“...I spoke to dispatch, and I told them that I won’t be able to deliver this camper to them until well after closing.  We got plenty of time.  Keep your mouth open and your eyes shut.  Keep still….  Too bad I don’t have access to the keys to the camper.

“Ahhh. There we go….  I told you I had to take a piss.  It just needed a few moments.  I said keep your mouth open; when it fills, drink it down.  I want you covered in it.  Fuck yeah boy.

“You look natural down there.  Hell yeah.  You are going to smell like a fuck urinal.  My fucking urinal.  Damn!  You are covered!  And don’t you fucking insult me by wiping that off.  It’s to dry there. 

“I remember, you used to eat my ass.  It hasn’t been tongue scrubbed in a long time; most likely you were the last boy to do so.  Get in there.  It’s probably nasty back there.  Work called me in on my day off, and I left the house this morning without showering.  It’s probably real rank back there.

“Oh fuck! Your tongue does not care.  It feels so good.  You know how to treat a man’s asshole right.  Get that tongue in there. 

“Don’t worry.  I’m watching if anyone pulls off the highway.  Your focus should be on sucking yesterday’s sweat and musk from my ass crack. 

“You like eating dad’s hole?  I can tell.  I wish I had one of those toilet seats on legs.  You could slurp my ass for hours….  What?  In your trunk?  You have one in your trunk?...  You really are a whore.  Go get it. 

“No leave your clothes here.  Take your keys, I want to see you go across the lot naked….

“Fuck yeah boy!  Don’t cover your pecker.  Let it swing….

“…Hell yeah.  If it was up to me, you would be kept naked pretty much all the time.  Go on set it up right here on the asphalt.  In fact, I want you to lay in my piss puddle like a good little pig.  You really want my ass don’t you?

“Go on eat.  Tongue fuck me.  And leave your pecker alone.  You are here to satisfy my needs not yours.  In fact, reach up and play with my nips.

“Oh shit, an SUV is pulling in.  Stay put.  They can’t see you.  Fuck.  I knew it; as soon as I sat down…. Don’t move.  They appear to be turning around and pulling out.

“This probably isn’t the best thing to be doing right here.  What’s your schedule like for today?...  What about tomorrow?  So you are wide open.  Wanna ride with me to San Diego?  The company is paying for a motel.  I’ll fuck you all night.  I can cum multiple times. In between I’ll rest by sitting on your face. 

“There’s a 24-hour Walmart at the next exit.  We can store your car there.  Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll drop you off there with a stretched out hole and a belly full of piss and cum.

“You want to?...  Good.  Put that toilet seat on legs in the back.  But first.  I have to say.  I’m a demanding prick with a demanding prick.  I am in full control of both your holes.  I plan on using them without asking you first.  You come with me, you will be agreeing to that.  I don’t know if you remember how I fuck, but I go right to the root on the first thrust.  You better be lubed up and cleaned out.  Are you?... lubed up and cleaned out?  Good, good.  Let’s do this.  Get up…. 

“Where are you going?  Get back here.  Bend over.  Hold on to something.  I am not going to drive five hours all horned up with full balls, especially with a boy’s ass a few feet away from me.  Let’s get you loaded up.

“I thought you said you were lubed up.  Oh well, son, it’s your hole that’s going to bleed, not mine.”

[delulu4dean]

“Withdrawals”

Warnings: suicide, depression, anxiety

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister!reader, Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Prompt: withdrawal from Cymbalta. Based on my own experience

Word Count: 3,624

You are all packed up to go with your older brothers. They were going all the way to the Redwood Forest, and you didn’t want to be in the bunker all alone.

You aren’t a hunter like them, not yet at least. You’ve studied the lore, and you’ve trained a bit, because after all, you are a Winchester. And the name alone is like wearing a giant “kick me” sign if it said “kill me” instead. No, you’re a student, getting your associates online in the exploratory major because you have no idea what you would want to do other than hunt with your brothers.

Sam and Dean promised John they’ll never let you into the life. Your mom died shortly after you were born. Your dad met your mom on a hunt nineteen years ago. She was a nurse in a hospital. There was one patient who was wrongfully treated, and died due to medical negligence. And boy does a vengeful spirit do a lot of damage. John saved your mom’s life, and they celebrated that night. She got pregnant, and she kept John’s number so nine months later, he picks up the phone to find out he’s got a daughter. Dean overheard the conversation and when John said he wouldn’t go, Dean said he has to. It resulted in a huge argument. John eventually gave in, and they went to the hospital to see you, and Dean knew right there and then he’d do anything to protect his little sister.

Your mom killed herself after she brought you home. Family history of mental illness was bad enough, but the postpartum depression pushed her over the edge.

It was not easy showing up at Stanford trying to explain to Sam that he had a baby sister, and that also your dad was missing. It was especially not easy looking for your dad while they had to take care of a baby. Dean often got babysitters to watch you in the motels they stayed in.

And now here you are, nineteen years old, aimlessly walking through life. You’re getting an associates in nothing specific just to get some general education done. And that history of mental illness in your family is hitting you hard. You’re on antidepressants, a specific one that treats your depression and anxiety.

Dean parks at the motel, and goes to get keys for a room. You don’t mind sleeping on the couch, out of the three of you it only makes sense, you got tall and taller with you, and it just doesn’t seem fair to make them sleep on the couch when you fit so well on it.

Sam and Dean throw on their FBI getup and go start asking questions while you connect your laptop to the motel wifi. Yay statistics, said no one ever. You’re only doing this to make your brothers happy, you don’t see a reason to get a degree. They say it’s useful to get some sort of decent job, or to one day get a further education when you decide what you want to do. But you already know what you want to do, you want to hunt with them.

You don’t know how you ended up on the couch. One moment you were doing homework and… yeah, that’s enough to make you snooze. You look at the time and it’s 8am the next day. You look into your bag and your eyes wide as you realize you left your antidepressants in the bunker.

“Shit!”

Your sudden outburst awakens your brothers as they both shoot up to see what’s wrong with you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam asks as they both run to your side.

“I forgot my meds at home,” you pout.

“Your meds?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“My antidepressants,” you clarify.

Dean makes an “O” shape with his mouth in response.

“Have you ever missed a day before?” Sam asks you.

“No, and this is going to be longer than a day. How am I going to manage without it?”

“Managing your existing problems is the least of your worries kiddo. You’re going to go through withdrawals,” Dean takes a seat next to you. “One of us can stay with you.”

“I’ll be fine, let’s get breakfast, you guys do your research and then I get back and work on more homework, I’ll keep myself occupied,” you assure your brother. They give each other a worried look, not feeling too sure, but you insist you’ll be fine.

The three of you head to a diner, and you check out the menu while Dean checks out the waitress.

“Perv,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning, what can I get for you?”

Dean orders the greasiest breakfast on the menu, with bacon of course. Sam orders some omelette made with just egg whites.

“And for you, hun?” the waitress looks at you with a smile.

“I’d like a plate of eggs, over easy, and sausages. And an order of chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream if that’s possible. And a cup of coffee if that isn’t too much trouble,” you order.

“Coming right up!”

After a couple of minutes the coffee is ready and she serves you and your brothers your coffee. You add a couple of vanilla creamers. You take your first sip, and immediately regret not blowing on it first. The hot liquid burns your tongue. You set your cup down as your stomach growls, begging to be fed.

On a normal day, you could be patient, wait for your food. But today isn’t a normal day, and even though it’s probably a five minute wait, ten at most, you need the food now. Your leg bounces up and down, as your fingers tap on the table.

“Hey kid, are you alright?” Dean asks you.

“Mmhm. Just hungry.”

“The food will be out any minute,” Sam assures you. You nod but it doesn’t make the time pass by any quicker for you.

You watch as the waitress walks over to your table with your food and you sit up. The moment she places your place in front of you, you dig in. Your brothers watch as you focus on your meal. They’ve never seen you eat like this. Normally you try to stay neat and clean while you eat. You talk to them. But right now, your brothers know better than to comment on you eating.

It’s not Dean doesn’t go crazy about food either. It’s just out of the ordinary for you, and you’re off your meds for the next few days, so they’re worried. Eventually they start getting to their research.

After breakfast, your brothers drop you off at the motel, and get on with the case. You open your laptop, log into your student portal, and look at your assignments. This is going to be a long day.

✰✰✰✰✰

You’re sat on the chair in front of your laptop, as you have been all day. It’s been hard to concentrate, you kept checking your phone, playing games. Every time your brothers texted to check in on you, you used it as an excuse to be on your phone again. And then when you finally started concentrating, you didn’t understand it.

You’re sat on your chair, tears streaming down your face. Hugging your knees, you just stare at the screen as the numbers blur together. Math was frustrating. It’s not like you’re bad at it, you’re actually great at it. But your mind is cloudy, and even reading over everything again and again, you’re not processing anything.

You barely made it through your other assignments, and this is all you have left for the day. You’ve been going at it since breakfast, you even skipped lunch to make up for the distractions.

The motel door clicks and creaks open, and footsteps enter the room. You don’t look up from your screen, you just hope they don’t notice your damp face.

“We got dinner,” Dean says, placing the bag on the table in front of you.

“ ‘M-not hungry,” you mumble.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry, what did you have for lunch?” Dean sits at the table, and Sam joins.

You still don’t look up as your brothers take out their food from the take out bag. Dean places your food in front of you as you push it away.

“I’ve been doing homework all day, no time to eat,” you attempt to speak but it all came out in a raspy whisper.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam scoots closed to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m stupid, that’s what’s wrong,” you break down into sobs. “I can’t do simple math equations.”

“You’re great at math,” Dean tries to assure you, but it doesn’t help.

“But I can’t do it today.”

“Hey, hey. You're off your meds. You’re not stupid, you're just not in the right state right now,” Sam tells you, and you nod. “Eat up, and after dinner, I’ll help you with your math, and anything else you need help with.”

Your sobs become small whimpers until you stop crying altogether. You sniffle before grabbing the dinner your brothers got for your. Sam sits next to you and reads over your math homework and explains things. Just reading it didn’t process, but hearing it out loud, from your brother, that helped process what you were actually looking at. Not long after, you finish your homework.

“Thank you, Sammy,” you hug your brother, tightly, and he hugs you back.

“Of course, (Y/N/N),” he keeps you close.

✰✰✰✰✰

You toss and turn, unable to sleep. You’re really starting to miss your antidepressants. Huffing, you get up from the couch, throw on your slip on vans, and take one of the motel key cards. Maybe a walk with some therapeutic music will help you feel better. It really sucks how just after 24 hours, the withdrawal kicks in. You throw in your earbuds and start walking around the block.

Your skin feels all tingly and a burning sensation travels up your leg but you ignore your body screaming. Maybe the walk is what you need. You've been sitting all day, no wonder you can’t sleep.

You put your hands in your pocket as you sing along to the next song under your breath.

“Running low, on serotonin. Chemical imbalance got me twisting things. Stabilize with medicine, there’s no depth to these feelings. Dig deep, can’t hide from the corners of my mind. I’m terrified of what’s inside.”

You take in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs.

“Please don’t let me go crazy. Put me if a field with daisies, might not work but I’ll take a maybe.”

As the song ends, you reach the motel door, but before you can use your key card, the door opens. You look up to see Dean frantically walking out until he sees you.

“Y/N! Where were you?” He whisper-shouts.

“I just went on a walk,” you explain. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought it would tire me out.”

“How are you feeling?” he asks you, putting his hand on your back, bringing you inside.

“Honestly my legs hurt, my skin feels all tingly, and my head is starting to hurt.”

“Come on, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight. We can tell each other ghost stories until we fall asleep.”

You smile softly, remembering that’s what Dean would do to get you to bed growing up. You lay down underneath the cover and look at the ceiling.

“Instead of a ghost story, you can catch me up on what you and Sammy have figured out about the case,” you suggest.

And so Dean goes into detail about his day, and how he things by tomorrow night things should be done. Dean is thinking it’s a siren, since these victims were last seen talking about seeing a pretty woman.

“But what were the victims doing before they got killed?” you pose a question.

“One was smoking, another littered, the third being really disruptive,” your eldest brother answers you.

“Hm. Could be a dryad,” you tell Dean.

“A what?”

“A dryad, forest nymph, not a fairy or a goddess but sort of in between. Magical, gorgeous women. There are different nymphs, like water nymphs for example.”

“How do you kill a nymph?” Dean asks you.

“She’s just protecting the forest,” you pout.

“She’s killing people.”

“Talk to her.”

“How do you kill her?” Dean presses.

“You don’t,” you finally give in. “Not without killing nature. Do you want to burn down a tree, Dean?”

“… no.”

“Thought so.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Technically if you can find the one tree she’s attached to, you can kill her. But you shouldn’t.”

“I’ll try talking to her, for you.”

“Thanks Dean.”

✰✰✰✰✰

The next morning you and Dean are both awaken by Sam, who brings you breakfast burritos.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Mmm morning,” you yawn.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Sam asks.

“No, I just couldn’t sleep. So Dean caught me up on your case.”

Sam nods. After breakfast and some research, Sam and Dean get what they need to summon her.

“Since it’s not that dangerous, maybe I can come along,” you offer.

“Homework for the week all done?” Sam asks.

You nod.

“Legs feeling better?” Dean asks.

You nod again.

“You’re lying,” he squints his eyes at you.

“How would you know?”

“The second nod was slower and less confident.”

You groan.

“If you need one of us to stay with you, we can arrange that. If what you said is true, it will be easy enough for just one of us,” Sam suggests.

“I’m fine,” you lie. You’re not fine. Your body is aching, and the anxiety and depression are starting to really sink in.

“Sam, you’re better at talking things out than I am. I’ll drop you off, then head back here. You can call me if you need backup,” Dean says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam nods.

The two of them leave the room and you sigh, laying down. You can’t just stay sitting in this room the whole time. You’re at a bear themed motel close to the redwood forest. You need to experience the nature. You’re feeling trapped and panicked. Your breathing accelerates and you sit up. Pacing back and forth for the next forty minutes, you wait for Dean to get back.

The door opens and he walks in with a bag in hand.

“You’re five minutes late!” you yell at him.

“I just stopped to get some pie,” he sets down the bag. “I got you powdered donuts.”

You nod.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just feeling really trapped in here. Think we can go for a walk, or a drive at least?”

“A drive sounds good,” Dean nods. “But eat the donuts before. No powder on Baby.” He points a finger at you.

“Yes sir,” you grab your donuts and eat, while dean digs into his pie.

After dessert, you two get into Baby. You look out the window as he pulls out of the motel parking lot.

“You want to play some music?” Dean asks you.

“What happened to driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?”

“This is a one time opportunity, Y/N. You don’t wanna miss it,” he nudges you.

You use a cassette adapter to connect your phone. You continue the playlist you were playing last night.

“You wanna listen to sad music?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I am sad. I don’t have my happy pills,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Honestly? I just want to cry. For absolutely no reason. Well there is a reason, withdrawals.”

Tears well up, and you take a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry kid. I’ll make sure we get home as soon as possible.”

You just nod. The medication doesn’t stop the bad thoughts from happening, but they stop them from hurting as much. The problem was the medication isn’t as effective anymore either. You’ve built a tolerance, so right now the only difference is instead of mild depression, you want to kill yourself. You hate how you look, I mean both of your brothers are considered attractive and you feel like you look… dorky. School is stressful especially when you’re working towards a degree you don’t want.

And then you think of your brothers, who swooped in to take care of you. John wasn’t a terrible father to you, but you know he was too tough on Sam and Dean especially when it came to you. And then when John died, Dean became basically like your dad. He already raised Sam during his youth and then he had to take care of you. You couldn’t help but think that Sam and Dean would have it so much easier without you.

You try to hide your cries, looking out the window, letting tears stream down your face.

“Y/N/N? Talk to me,” Dean coaxes you. “What are you thinking about.”

Your silent cries become wails and sobs. And the crying triggers a headache and you feel nauseous and everything is just awful.

“Dean, why do you keep me around?” You take a deep breath trying to calm yourself but it doesn’t work. “I’m a burden. You don’t need to be taking care of me, especially when I’m an adult. I’m just dragging you down,” you cry out. “If I were dead, or never born, you’d be so much happier!”

“Woah woah!” Dean pulls over, then looks over at you. “I would not be happier without you. We don’t keep you around to take care of you. You’re grown, independent. We love you. And we’re happy you like being around us too. You’re our family.”

You look up at him, and you can almost see his heart breaks as he looks at your face. He wipes your tears and pulls you in for a hug.

“Are you thinking of hurting yourself? Are the suicidal thoughts back?”

You nod, crying into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry about, baby, these thoughts aren’t your fault.”

You feel something going on in your throat, and you pull away quickly, opening the door, emptying the contents from your stomach. Dean quickly gets out from the drivers side and runs over to you.

“Ew,” you cry. “God that’s gross. I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders continue to shake as you resume crying. Your older brother crouches down (avoiding where you threw up) and pushes your hair back behind your ears.

“You don’t need to say sorry.”

“I might have gotten some on Baby,” you say, looking around to make sure.

“I can clean it. It’s just a car. You’re my baby sister.”

You sniffle as a smile creeps on your face.

“You do really love me. You’d never say she’s just a car unless it was that serious.”

“Of course it’s that serious. You’re having withdrawals. Now lets get something in that tummy,” he pokes your stomach. “Something light and comforting. You can wash up in the bathroom. And then we can get Sam and get you home.”

You nod and the drive resumes. You head back to the diner you had breakfast at yesterday. For lunch you get a grilled cheese and tomato soup. Dean gets a burger, obviously. As you wait for the food, you head into the bathroom and wash up.

After lunch, Sam gives Dean a call, saying it’s all over, and to also check up on you. You guys go on your way to pick up Sam. Dean hands the key over to Sam and Sam looks at Dean confused.

“Long drive from California to Kansas. Don’t want to leave her alone. After dinner we can switch off and you can sit in the back if you want,” Dean explains.

“It’s fine, it looks like you got control of the situation.” Sam looks over to you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like absolute shit. But better than before.”

“When we get home, you take your meds, get your sleep, then we can do a movie night,” Sam suggests.

“That sounds great Sammy,” you smile. You kiss his cheek before going into the back seat with Dean.

“Thanks for being here for me Dean,” you say, kissing his cheek as well.

“Of course. I’ve been here since day one,” he ruffles your hair.

✰✰✰✰✰

The next 21 hours end up being hell. Dean said the wrong thing while trying to comfort you, sending you spiraling. That’s when Sam sat in the back while Dean sat up front beating himself up over it as he drives the rest of the way home. You apologized for being a difficult kid and Dean didn’t deny you were difficult, he just said easy is boring.

Now Dean pulls into the bunker garage, and you run to your room to get your medicine and take it. Dean follows you, wanting to apologize.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. You aren’t a difficult kid. You were a great kid. Fun, and a great listener.”

“It’s okay Dean, I’m over it. Really.”

He nods.

“Can you stay with me until I sleep though? You and Sam? I want to hear about the dryad!”

“Sure thing. Sammy!”

Sam runs up to you guys.

“She wants you to tell us about the dryad.”

“Was she pretty?” you ask.

“Yes, she was very pretty.”

You lay in bed as your brothers sit on each side of you. Sam talks about how your plan to talk to her actually worked, and how the conversation went down. You smile as you listen. Your eyelids get heavy and soon you’re out.

#dean winchester angst #dean x reader #dean Winchester x sister!reader #Sam Winchester X sister!reader #supernatural #spn fanfic

[crowinthewoods]

A bunch of incorrect quotes just cuz I'm bored and these are funny. I might have went over board and no I'm not sorry.

Jon: I am an expert at identifying birds.

Gerry: Okay, what about those ones flying over there?

Jon: Yeah, they're all birds.

Gerry: What’s up with you?

Jon: What do you mean?

Gerry: You’ve been nice and helpful and considerate all day. What’s your game?

Gerry: *makes Mike a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Mike: *sips tea*

Gerry:

Mike: *finishes tea*

Gerry: Didn't it taste bad?

Mike: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Gerry, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Tim, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day?

Gerry: …

Gerry: What’s in the box?

Tim: What woul-

Gerry: Tim, what’s in the box?

Tim: I think you know.

Jon: What did you two do?

Mike:

Tim:

Jon: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if I have to lie to the police again or not.

Gerry: Why would I flip my shit about that?

Tim: Because you flip your shit about everything.

Gerry: Well, will you look at this. Here is my shit, and yet it remains unflipped. Just sitting there on the skillet, getting burned on one side. It’s a miracle.

Jon: Mike, we're hungry!

Gerry: Mike! What's for dinner?

Tim: We're hungry, Mike!

Mike, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams*

Tim, tearing up the room: Where are they?

Tim, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?

Tim: Somebody moved my M&amp;M's, and now I am going to start killing.

Jon: If you water water, it grows.

Mike: ...What.

Tim: They've got a point.

Jon: What are you two arguing about this time?

Mike: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!

Gerry: Cry me a table, Mike.

Jon: *Locks Mike in the car.* Act like a child, get treated like a child.

Mike: What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in a car?

Jon: Onion rings are vegetable donuts.

Mike, used to Jon being dumb: Sure...

Jon: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Mike: Okay?

Jon: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake.

Mike:

Jon: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Mike: Jesus, that one is a little-

Gerry, interested: No, no, Jon, keep going.

Tim: Gerry? What are you doing here?

Gerry, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

Jon, texting Tim: I’m a theif.

Tim: Thief.

Jon: Theif.

Tim: I before E except after C.

Jon: Thceif.

Tim: NO.

Mike, slamming pots and pans together to the rhythm of "Give it to me, I'm worth it": I didn't get no sleep cause a' y'all! Y'all never gonna sleep cause a' me!

Jon: Sometimes I get so caught up on being gay that I forget I’m actually bi.

*at a zoo*

Daisy: What are they in for?

Not Sasha: Daisy, this isn't prison.

Daisy: So they can leave?

Not Sasha: No, but-

Daisy, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Daisy: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant.

Kevin, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you.

Not Sasha, who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please.

Kevin: Coming right up.

Daisy: As you know I keep a list of all my friends in order of how likely they are to betray me.

Mike: Where am I on the list?

Daisy: Well I can’t tell you that because then you’ll quickly move up or down depending on your reaction.

Daisy: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying.

Not Sasha: And?

Daisy: And you are.

Kevin: A banker? Me?

Melanie: Yes, Kevin.

Kevin: But I don’t know anything about running a bank!

Melanie: Good. No preconceived ideas.

Kevin: I’ve robbed banks!

Melanie: Capital! Just reverse your thinking. The money should be on the inside.

Tim: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Mike, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

Gerry: Awww, why don't you like cats, Daisy? They're just snuggly buddies! They have toe beans! They make a little blep! What's not to love??

Daisy: I don't know Gerry, I just prefer to be conscious instead of dead on the floor.

Gerry:

Daisy: I'm ALLERGIC.

Tim: Made you all playlists!

Tim: Gerry, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Tim: Kevin, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Tim: And Melanie has the ABBA Gold album.

Not Sasha, excitedly: Heeyy!!

Daisy: Hey, someone's excited.

Melanie, deadpan: Yeah, and it's making me sick.

Daisy: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Martin and Jon's convo?

Gerry: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Tim: I'm in the washing machine.

Mike: I'm in the closet.

Gerry: We accept you Mike. <3

Mike: No I'm literally in the closet.

Gerry: Love is love. <3

Kevin: Who hurt you?

Not Sasha: *snorting* What, do you want a list?

Kevin: ...Yes, actually.

Melanie: This can’t get any worse. Can it?

Tim: Sure it can - just give me a minute.

Helen: Hey, Sasha, where are you going?

Sasha: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell.

Sasha: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Gerry: Mike said its my turn with the brain cell.

Sasha: Square up.

Kevin: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes...

Kevin: ...And violently jerk their head until it snaps.

Basira: ...That took an unexpected turn.

Melanie: So did their neck.

Sasha: If I say yes am I joining a cult?

Jon: Possibly.

Sasha: I’m in.

Martin: I think this might be a bad idea...

Tim: Don't start thinking on me now!

Melanie: Basira, I know you love Helen. I mean, we all do, they’re a very nice person and I respect them immensely.

Melanie: But I think they might be a fucking idiot.

Basira: *cooking*

Melanie: *kicks down door*

Melanie: *grabs knife from Basira's hand*

Melanie: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR?

Basira:

Basira: What.

Martin: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

Sasha: Kevin and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us.

Michael: What did you do?

Sasha: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and-

Kevin: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

#daycare au #the magnus nightvale daycare au #chaos #the magnus archives #gerard keay #jonathan sims #michael distortion #not sasha #welcome to nightvale #incorrect quotes #sasha james #mike crew #melanie king #basira hussain #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #kevin wtnv #they're all dumbasses your honor

[knucklescum]

Motel Room - Billy Butcher x fem!Reader (The Boys)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader (The Boys)

Word Count: 1719

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut (i was too pussy to actually write it lmao), ONE BED FIC!!! also you wear one of his shirts… 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Last time, it had been with Hughie. The time before, M.M. 

And now here you were, stood in the doorway of yet another shitty motel room as Billy fucking Butcher threw his bag onto the bed.

The bed. Singular.

You don’t even attempt to hide your annoyance as you shut the door, letting out a loud sigh.

“Come on, love.” he says, turning to you as he shimmies out of his coat. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

A scoff escapes your lips as you drop your duffle bag onto the desk, shaking your head as you remove your hoodie.

You fold your jumper up, placing it gently over the back of the desk chair as Butcher falls onto the mattress with a content hum.

“Not so fast, dickhead.” you say, your voice a dry laugh. “I’ll help you make a ‘lil bed on the floor.”

You lean over him, not even attempting to catch his eyes as you snatch up one of the pillows, throwing it onto the floor.

“I’m sure your coat will work as a blanket,” you say, tilting your head innocently, although your smirk tells Butcher all he needs to know.

“What,” he starts, sitting up on the edge of the mattress as you lean against the wall. “- makes you think I’m giving up this bed, sweetheart?”

He tilts his own head, mocking you with a similar shit-eating grin to your own.

“M.M gave me the bed. So did Hughie, you know,” you pause. “Like gentlemen?”

“Oh I’m the gentlest of them all, love. I’ll even give you a little cuddle if you fancy,” he smirks, nodding his head at you.

“Get fucked,” you whisper, quickly arming yourself with your jumper and launching it at his head.

To your dismay, he catches it with no problem, throwing it to the floor alongside the pillow.

“Now hang on a second, princess,” Butcher says, bringing a hand to his chin in faux confusion before pointing a finger at you. “Hughie told me you two shared the bed?”

Of course he did.

“Well, yeah,” you sigh. “I wasn’t going to let him sleep on the floor now, was I? He’s fragile.”

Butcher can’t help the small chuckle that slips out of his mouth before his face hardens again.

“So why am I sleeping on the floor?”

“Because you’re a cunt,” you say, flippant as you turn back to your bag, rummaging for your wallet. “I’m going to get a snack.”

“Grab me a-” you slam the door shut, ignoring Butcher and whatever request he may have had.

The cold night air was refreshing. You had spent an awfully long time just staring at the vending machine, any excuse to get away from that warm, tiny room where Butcher was, maybe, waiting for you.

In fairness, the vending machine was in serious need of a restock: the only things left were a singular packet of skittles and a redbull. 

“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself as you input the code for the skittles, and then the redbull before finding the perfect spot on the side of the building for a good lean. Maybe it was the result of some kind of long forgotten trauma, or just a part of your being, but you’d always found that a nice, cold wall always brought you back to reality.

You cracked the can open, your back flat against the wall as you took a sip of the drink.

To this day, you weren’t entirely sure why being alone with Butcher made you so tense. The two of you met just after Becca went missing, when Butcher started his ‘mission’. From day one, he’d got under your skin - his snide remarks, his nicknames, the way he treated the other guys. But there was another side to him that, albeit unintentionally, he had let slip from time to time. He was genuinely funny, weirdly sweet - especially to you and Hughie, and he always had your back.

And you couldn’t deny the fact that you’d felt his eyes on you, occasionally. When you’d get out of the shower in the hideout wrapped in a towel, on hot days when you’d stroll out of your ‘room’ (a flimsily curtained off section of the basement) in just an oversized shirt. You were certain that you’d caught him watching you, but you know he would never admit it.

Quickly, you down the last of your energy drink before tossing the can into the bin, making your way back to the room. 

You’ve barely shut the door when Butcher jumps up from the bed, a wash of worry across his face before he quickly replaces it with his usual teasing expression.

“What were you doing out there? Foraging for a kitkat?” he asks. 

In the time you were gone he’d removed his boots and folded your jumper back on to the chair, as well as returned the pillow back to its spot on the bed. 

“This is all they had,” you say, throwing the bag of skittles vaguely in his direction as you tuck your wallet back into your bag.

He lets out a sigh as he opens the packet, immediately tipping half of the contents into his mouth.

“Save me some, asshole!” you exclaim.

After your internal battle at the vending machine, you give into your exhaustion and flop yourself on the bed, spread like a starfish directly in the centre. Pulling your eyes closed, you hear Butcher shuffle around the room and - is he undressing?

“Butcher, what the f-” you shout in a whisper, sitting up and keeping your eyes on his face, afraid to move your eyes anywhere else, just in case.

“What? Can’t a man change into his fucking jim-jams in peace?” he utters back to you, his voice a breath louder than yours.

“Jim-jams?” you mock. “Jesus christ, Butch.”

“If I’m going to be squished into this bed with you, I at least want to be fuckin’ comfortable,” he says, raising his hands in defence.

“There’s always the floor.”

“Fuck off, sweetheart,” he says, turning his back to you to pull his pyjamas on. 

When the two of you eventually look back to each other, it’s hard to stop your eyes from roaming over the entirety of his body. He’s ditched his shirt all together, donning only a pair of baggy, plaid bottoms.

“What?” he says as he returns to the bed, pushing your limbs out of the way as he parks himself on top of the duvet. “I saw Hughie’s, thought they looked quite nice.” He turns to face you, a questioning smirk on his face. “Is that alright with you?”

You nod your head before resting it back onto the pillow, sinking into the mattress as you become increasingly more aware of just how close you are to the man.

The two of you remain in your weirdly comfortable silence, your breaths becoming softer as you start to relax.

That is, until Butcher interrupts you.

“You’re sleeping in jeans?” he scoffs. “Get your fucking PJs on, love.”

You bring your hand to your face, rubbing your forehead before you sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up onto your feet.

“You had your shoes on in the bed too? Mad fucking woman,” he utters, shaking his head as he watches you cross the room to your bag.

“I’m tired, alright? Fuck off,” you sigh.

Holding yourself up on the desk, you slide out of your trainers before turning your back to Butcher.

You feel around in your bag for a top to wear to bed, your hand meeting the soft material of one shirt in particular.

Shit.

Ignoring the feeling of the imminent questioning, you wrestle the shirt out of your bag, placing it on the side before removing your own top. Despite facing away from him, you can feel Butcher’s eyes on your bare back as you undo your bra, a small, satisfied hum escaping your lips as your tits fall freely.

Of course, he can’t see your front, but you’re sure he’s imagining.

Quickly, you pull the shirt over yourself, beginning to fasten the buttons when you hear Butcher’s breath hitch.

“Is that my shirt?” he says, his voice low.

“It’s comfy,” you shrug, shuffling out of your jeans before turning back to face him.

“I’m well aware,” he whispers.

Your eyes meet his almost instantly, his pupils large and dark, remaining focused on yours with each step you make closer to the bed. Closer to him.

He shuffles slightly closer to his edge of the bed, so much so that your skin doesn’t even brush his as you crawl back into the bed.

“I’m not going to bite you, Butcher,” you laugh, nodding your head for him to scoot closer. “Come on, you’re going to fall off the bed.”

He nods in response, moving maybe half a centimetre closer before stopping again.

“Jesus fucking christ, you can touch me, Butcher,” you sigh, making yourself comfortable on your side of the mattress. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, (y/n).”

“Oh.”

You and Butcher were very obviously not on the same page.

Your mind starts to race. He wants to touch you? Wait, fuck - he said your name! How long has he wanted this? Do you want this? Of course you do. You’ve wanted this for a while.

“You have no idea how much I want you, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I-I’m always thinking about you. It’s stupid, I know. You’re you and I’m, well, I’m a fucking state-”

You cut off his ramblings with your lips on his. There’s no sparks, no fireworks, but fuck it feels so right. 

He kisses back instantly, scooting closer to you, your chest brushing against his. A few seconds pass before he pulls away from you, a never ending distance between you once again.

“Sweetheart, I can’t. I’m too old - you’re too young to be messing about with someone like me,” he whispers, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Stop denying yourself,” you utter. “You’re Billy fucking Butcher.”

In an instant, his lips return to their place on yours, his beard a soothing scratch on your face.

“You’re fucking right I am.”

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #butcher #billy butcher the boys #butcher the boys #the boys #amazon the boys #one bed #billy butcher one bed #wearing billy butcher's shirt #billy butcher shirt #karl urban #boys #one bed fic