#I don’t dwell on the opinions of others

[halfblood-princes-crown]

maruke is better than you anyways

@moonlightdancer26 look at this buffoonery

#was I….supposed to care? #my god complex is laughing at you rn anon #I don’t dwell on the opinions of others #and you know this #otherwise you wouldn’t have felt the need to ATTEMPT to humble me #you can’t #have a good evening #😘

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

*

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

#steve harrignton #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #stranger things #st4 fanfic #i've had SUCH a shit and busy month. i'm using them to heal myself lol #i wanted to make them so pathetically in love i accidentally made my eyes fall out of my skull bc of the cheesiness #proposal au #hehe #short and sweet #excuse me if i got too silly. my hand slipped

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 2

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues.

Words: 2010

---

He shakes his head, like clearing the fog from his brain, and steps forward. “I’m Jake,” he says, reaching his hand out toward you. 

It’s done in such a casually confident manner that it dares you to take a step back, out of his reach and far from his influence. You take his hand anyway. 

His palm against yours creates a slight buzzing sensation at your fingertips making you pull your hand away and tighten it into a fist before tucking it behind your back. “That makes more sense than the pretty brunette.”

“Oh, don’t flatter her. She’s not that great,” he says. There’s a light chuckle as he slips his hands into his front pockets. On any other man, you’d acknowledge the hint of nerves accompanying the action, but with this man in particular you brush it off. There is no way this man has ever been nervous a day in his life. “I’m surprised you’re up. Are you okay with your room?”

You glance down at the suitcase not far from where you stand. “I didn’t look for it. Seemed like snooping.”

“Oh, shit. That’s my fault.” Hand flying out of his pocket, he runs it down his face again. He blows out a breath that feels like some form of self-scolding for letting himself neglect you, then bends down to wrap his fingers around the handle of your suitcase. “You can come with me.”

The apartment, while nice, isn’t overly large. The door to what you learn is your room can be seen from your first few steps through the front entryway, but still, you’re glad you didn’t peek on your own. You could’ve found yourself face-to-face with his private space and unable to avoid developing opinions of him based on the first-glance contents of his room. 

With a turn and a push, Jake opens your door and stands back against one side of the frame so you can enter. Side-stepping past him, though, is a bit of a squeeze and you can’t help the way your breasts brush across his chest. You don’t miss his flinch and the sharp intake of air through his nose.

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

Whether or not he heard you goes unknown as he sets your suitcase down once you’re inside the room and begins his mini tour. “Um, bed,” comes out a little gritty. He points to the largest piece of furniture in the room like you’re a two-year-old learning the names of basic household items. With a cough to clear his throat, he continues. “That door over there is the closet,” he points some more. “And that one’s the bathroom. It’s small, but I hope it’ll be alright for you.”

There’s a pang in your stomach from his last two words. For you. An unnecessary addition with so much power. Power you refuse to let yourself dwell on. 

“It’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Right, well I’ll, uh–” Those eyes do their scanning of you again. Lips, breasts, hips. Blink and you would’ve missed it. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says. "It's nice to meet you."

You would say the same, but he’s gone before you get the chance. Shutting the door behind him, you toss your suitcase onto the bed and begin to unpack. 

—

The funny thing about these towns—while each one is different from another in appearance and people, they always reveal themselves to share a core component. Your willingness to stay put, and for how long, lies with this component. It is a matter of how intense this component—this judgment—is, and whether or not it infects enough around you to transform everything into a reminder of why you do not belong. While many things have the potential to prove you right or wrong as far as the degree to which you might be judged, what remains a constant disappointment is your attempts to obtain a job. 

It doesn’t matter where you look. You get the same once-over, the same raised brow, the same unspoken questions lingering in the air. Are you lost? Did you stumble through the wrong door?

In one day you’ve been turned down by three jobs with ‘help wanted’ signs stuck on the inside of their building’s front window. What’s worse is that, in following typical company policy, they don’t shoo you away at the door. They take your resume, they sit you down, ask you a host of questions, and eventually declare you’re not right for the position. 

A restaurant manager did not see you fit for a waitress. Neither did a cafe owner find you capable as a barista. The most painful, however, was also the riskiest. The head of the sales floor at the lingerie boutique who seemed to think women of a certain size aren’t in need of lacy fabrics that accentuate their best bits and pieces because surely they don’t have sex.

That was the one that did you in for the day and now has you moseying back to the apartment. 

You walk through the door and shed yourself of jacket, purse, and shoes, likely looking as exhausted as your new roommate did when you first laid eyes on him the night before. You knew you recognized something in the weariness of his eyes. While unexpected, last night Jake Seresin was tired because someone—or many someones—had worn him out. 

“Hi.”

You jolt upright, head instinctually turning toward the voice. You’re not used to sharing your space, and obviously so since Jake immediately raises his hands in silent apology for startling you.

“Hi,” you reply, the word riding on the sigh that passes through your lips. 

With as much as you can muster for him, you offer a smile before aiming for your bedroom. But you don’t get far. 

“What have you been up to all day?” he asks, halting you. 

He’s not going to let you go, you realize, not without giving him something in return. Though, seeing as he’s your new roommate who took you in on short notice and charges you pennies to stay, you figure you can oblige. 

He’s sitting at the island in the kitchen, now with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. His thumb taps away at the screen, but when you near him he quickly sets it down to offer you his full attention. It’s then that you notice his missing shirt. Your mind must have filled in that blank. You’d assumed some sort of tank top was hidden by the angle at which he sat when you entered the apartment; that the fabric’s color was not so different from the tone of his skin. Looking at him in his bareness now, you can’t ignore how ridiculous that thought was.

You also can’t ignore him; sitting there without shame, practically taunting you to run your eyes over every ridge and valley of his sculpted form. And it is sculpted. Artwork. 

But you don’t allow yourself the luxury. Instead, you answer, “Looking for a job.”

Jake sits a little straighter. “I can probably help with that,” he says. “I’ve got a friend who owns a bar down the street, and–”

“No!” you snap. The hope that it wasn’t as harsh as it sounded is snuffed out by the slight widening of his eyes. “Thank you,” is softer, “but no bars.”

He watches you a moment longer before he nods and repeats, “No bars. Got it.” Another moment of silence fills the room until he breaks it. “I’ll ask around.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” You wave away the thought and shake your head, aiming to get off the topic. Solidifying that is your immediate shift onto him. He seems like a guy who probably enjoys talking about himself, anyway. “So, you don’t fly on the weekend?”

“Not unless I have to.”

“Have people stopped traveling on Saturdays?”

Blond brows pinch as he twists the beer bottle in absent-minded circles with his fingertips. “What?”

Crossing your arms, you step further into the kitchen until your stomach is resting against the edge of the island. “Your friend said you’re a pilot. I just figured you’d be working a lot.”

Jake’s face doesn’t change; still the epitome of confusion, and you don’t know how to fill the painfully long beats while he examines you. Why you let him examine you must be a slip of the conscious mind, but you keep still. Then his face settles. He takes a sip of his beer, sets it down, and, instead of simply looking at you, stares hard into your eyes. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Wh–” you pause, readjusting your stance. “What makes you think that?”

“Anyone who says ‘pilot’ in this town—or frankly, even close by—assumes Navy, not airline,” he says. If he’s insulted, it doesn’t show. “I’m far from some Delta guy.”

Internally you curse. That err in knowledge peels back a layer of your paint, inviting curiosity and questions. And by the gleam in Jake’s eye, you’re sure you’re going to get plenty. “You’re in the Navy.”

“I am,” he confirms with a single nod. “And most people here have ties to it in some way. But not you, it seems.”

You fidget in the gap between his statements. 

“So, where exactly did you come from,” he continues, a wry smile stretching his lips, “And how did you end up here of all places?”

When you meet his stare, you don’t care for the sparkle peeking through. “I drove.”

His head throws back in laughter. “That’s all I get?”

“That’s all you need,” you stress. It’s his own fault for not asking those questions following your email answering his ad. He had an opportunity. He didn’t take it. That’s not your problem. And the longer you stand here, clearly providing him with entertainment, you're once again struck with the desperation to get his attention off of you. 

Without much to grasp, you go for the obvious. You allow your eyes to trail downwards and morph your features into a forced grimace. “Don’t you wear clothes?”

“Oh.” Looking down at himself, a gulp bulges his throat. “My bad. It’s been a while since I’ve had to wear a shirt around the place.” Is that disappointment in his tone? Maybe. Who in the world wouldn’t be insulted at the request to put on more clothes instead of removing an additional article? You certainly have been, so who is to say Jake Seresin—who undoubtedly has never faced such a request—wouldn’t feel the same?

To your surprise, he hops up immediately and rounds the island for his room; a move you would appreciate much more if it didn’t reveal the gray sweatpants settled low on his hips. There’s a defined V and a line of hair that disappears below the waistband. You hate that V. You hate that dusting of hair, blonder against his tan skin. Men with Vs and an irritatingly perfect amount of hair there are trouble. Each and every one of them. 

“I’ll go get that shirt. Don’t go anywhere.”

For whatever reason—one you’re unwilling to dissect—you do as he asks. But then a light flashes in your peripheral vision. The screen of his phone in response to a new message. 

You don’t want to look, not really, but you can’t help yourself. Years of people whispering behind your back, sneaking glances, chuckling, has planted the evergrowing seed of paranoia. Inching closer to the phone, you tap the rectangular block on his screen that reads Nat. Though the phone is locked, the notification expands to reveal the full message. 

See, Paranoid is an interesting label. It accuses you of misunderstanding, of being too suspicious, too anxious, or even crazy; and you won’t deny you’ve probably been wrong before, assuming people are talking about you who haven’t spared you a thought. But sometimes, that label is unfair. Sometimes—often, in fact—you are right. 

And when you read ‘Not what you expected, is she?’ followed by a tiny smirking face, you know this is one of those times.

---

A/N: I hope you liked it! If there are typos blame that on my anxiety. I've got a life-defining procedure tomorrow so wish me luck

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

[maysileeewrites]

a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something! 

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it! 

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red. 

Blood. 

There’s just so much of it. 

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help. 

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm. 

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. 

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut. 

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp. 

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be. 

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance. 

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter. 

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for. 

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you. 

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression. 

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“ 

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“ 

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“ 

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further. 

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth. 

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver. 

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips. 

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him. 

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ 

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark. 

And fuck. This - this is dangerous. 

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“ 

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs. 

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness. 

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location. 

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location. 

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy. 

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip. 

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing. 

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“ 

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression. 

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“ 

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody. 

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it. 

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest. 

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“ 

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation. 

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain. 

„Let me“, you say, helping him. 

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly. 

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“ 

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze. 

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“ 

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him. 

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up. 

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches. 

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him. 

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“ 

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods. 

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“ 

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending. 

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head. 

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any. 

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“ 

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of. 

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“ 

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything. 

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain. 

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind. 

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“ 

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words. 

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe. 

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation. 

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck. 

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh. 

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good. 

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that. 

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours. 

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss. 

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“ 

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly. 

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again. 

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“ 

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“ 

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again. 

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well. 

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy. 

#john murphy x you #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy the 100 #john murphy #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 tv #richard harmon #john mother fucking murphy #the 100 x reader #the 100 x you #maysileewrites

[prettieinpink]

Detachment

Detachment is the feeling that you have of not being personally involved in something or of having no emotional interest in it. I don’t really like this definition of detachment, but its the one which explains it the best. Though this post is basically about how to not let your emotions affect every aspect of your life. And it can improve life/mindset by soo muchh. Heres some little tips for detaching !!

Don’t involve yourself, start observing. You do not have to get involved with everything on the internet, whether it's a debate, discussion, latest trends, political opinions or arguments on social media. Learn how to observe situations, and know when to turn your phone off if something is affecting your emotions negatively. 

Actually start thinking before you speak. It’s a common phrase yet no one truly does it. But, thinking before you say anything risky, whether it's a joke or your professing your love to someone, really think about it. Long term or short term thinking, its up to you. Thinking before you speak will literally help you stop acting impulsively on your emotions and avoid any future conflicts. 

Start embracing change. I know it is hard, but change is unpredictable so we need to start to accept it. It allows yourself to be more open minded to different opportunities which is so important for personal growth + how i did it was by observing my environment much more thoroughly and how i’ll fit in it( i usually journal about this ) and speaking with people/reading about people who’ve been in the same situations i’m in. 

Not just being aware, but understanding that not everyone is going to be kind to you and not everything in life is going to be good or fair. A lot of people are aware of this, but when it actually occurs, they’re upset. Is it reasonable to be upset? Yes. Is it reasonable to be entitled to that everyone should treat you good and everything in life is going to be easy? No. In fact if this is the case, you’re doing something wrong. Being your true authentic self is going to bring haters and challengers, do not let them live in your mind. 

Btw, negative emotions are totally normal and i support them. Be sad, angry, furious, insecure, whatever. Though, learn how to process these emotions in your mind, and grow from them, instead of dwelling and letting it affect other aspects of your life.

#girl blog #girlblogger #becoming that girl #glowing up #hypergamyblr #pink pilates princess #pink academia #pink pilates girl #it girl #girl blogger #just girly posts #girlblogging #this is a girlblog #that girl #clean girl #green juice girl #just girly things #dream girl #this is what makes us girls #tumblr girls #just girlboss things #girly stuff #girlcore #girlboss #pinterest girl #self growth #self care #self healing #self improvement #self help

[oozedninjas]

i will BEG YOU ON MY KNEES FOR LITERALLY ANYTHING YOU COULD POSSIBLY THINK OF FOR 2007 RAPH he just makes me so HAHWKAHAKEVBS

This time I came up with something simpler and softer, I hope it's okay :)

Summary: Raph is mustering the courage to confess his feelings, but nothing goes as he plans after your birthday party.

MDNI / Raph is 26, and so is reader/fluff/ post 2007! movie

----

"Get a room, you two." 

Donatello rolled his eyes, turning back to the computer. Raphael glared at him, on the brink of delivering a witty retort, yet he stopped upon sensing your hand on his shoulder. You shrugged it off before shooting him a wink.

"No, no, he's got a point. Let's move to your room," you delivered with a knowing look.

Raph grinned, letting out a mischievous chuckle. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you teamed up to playfully taunt his brothers.

"Yeah? I don't know, maybe we won't be able to keep it down if we go," he quipped, infusing a flirtatious tone to his words.

Donatello growled low at the cringe-inducing sensation creeping up his neck. This happened quite frequently. You and Raph would giggle while snuggling on the couch. Some times you were in his lap, some others he laid his head on your legs while you massaged his head or played with the red bandana.

You shared many things together: meals, phone calls, your apartment (especially when he and Leo fought—hell, he even allowed you to use his bike!), and when you weren't teasing each other, you were playfully flirting. Although, at times, it seemed too genuine to be lighthearted. At least in Donatello’s opinion. 

He did his best to ignore both of you and once you left, he and the others started blitzing Raph with numerous questions. Why do you always act like that? Raph, do you like them? Are you secretly dating or something? Raph, have you asked them out yet? 

“Relax, we’re just messing around,” he deflected. 

"You must be careful with your words, Raphael," Splinter said. "Sometimes we dismiss what we think could tear our hearts apart, but that doesn't mean it'll go away, and if you let it linger there for too long, one day you may come to regret it.”

That struck a chord in him.

"I'm old enough to discern my feelings, thank you," Raphael snapped.

Now, one would have thought that after such a sharp response, Raph would not have dwelled on the matter any further. Yet, much to his annoyance, those queries circled in his head all week—a week during which he continued hanging out with you as usual. The only difference was that now he couldn't shake this tingle from his chest.

Perhaps it's always been there, he thought. Maybe he just hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge it.

Do you like them?

You smiled at him at that very moment, and he knew. The realization hit him like a goddamn train at maximum speed. He had feelings for you. Real feelings. Romantic feelings.

Fuck.

Never in a million years would you feel the same about him; he knew it. And even if you did, he was a mutant living in the sewers. What could he possibly offer you? You know, besides always protecting you and taking care of you. Would you be okay just with that? Would it— would he be enough for you?

****

“I think they like you back,” Casey asserted, shooting a smile at Raph. “Just ask them out.”

They found themselves on the rooftop of Casey's shared apartment with April. It was their habitual pullout, a place to unwind for a couple of hours after their patrol shift, when the night was too bright to head home.

Casey swung his bat absentmindedly through the air, while Raph sat with his legs hanging from the building, watching the hasty lights of various cars speeding below.

“I don’t know. What if they don’t? I don’t wanna risk what we have.”

"Raph, trust me, they like you back. Besides, you both look like a married couple already! Like, that fight over the cookies the other day? Come on,” Casey chuckled at the memory.

Raphael scratched the back of his head, trying to tone down the heat creeping up his neck. Yeah, maybe you did look like a married couple.

****

After pondering it for a few weeks, Raphael made up his mind to speak from his heart. He gathered the courage to talk to you and confess his feelings. Not tonight, though. Tonight was your birthday, and you both agreed to hang out after your small party at the lair.

He made sure you had a pleasant evening and gifted you a pretty handmade bracelet. After the song and the cake that Mikey lovingly baked, you both headed to your apartment for a movie.

Now he found himself in your bed, right next to you, and God, you looked beautiful. Who could concentrate on the TV with such a sight beside it? Certainly not Raph. He stared for so long that it didn’t take much time for you to notice.

“Is something wrong, babe?” You asked.

Babe

You’ve never called him that before, not even during fake-flirting. His heart rate pitched inside his plastron. Warmth flushed his cheeks. Damn. He turned quickly, trying to swallow the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Nah, just watch the movie,” he mumbled. 

“I was, you were the one staring at me,” you noted. 

“No I wasn’t” 

“Hmm, I positively think you were.”

“Well, what if I was?” he retorted.

You grimaced at the sudden harsh, low-key annoyed tone. Something felt off, and judging by his behavior over the past week, you already knew what it was. Grinning, you asked:

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

Raphael turned back to you, his heart beating faster now, a tingling sensation in his hands. Your gaze was flirty, but not as playful this time.

“You know I do,” he said simply. 

Damn, this was much easier when he hadn’t realized he had a crush on you.

“I think you’re really good looking too.” 

“I know,” Raph smirked, trying his best to play it cool. 

You snorted, turning completely towards him. Stretching your hand out, you ran your fingertips over the bracelet.

“This was incredibly thoughtful, you know? I love it. But you know what would be an even greater birthday present?”

“What?” He prompted.

“If you said this was our first date.” 

All doubts, nervousness, and his plans of awkwardly confessing were thrown out the window with that single phrase. His smile this time was wide, his gaze radiant with satisfaction and confidence.

"It is," he placed his hand over yours, his hold impossibly tender. "At least to us. The whole crew is convinced we're already dating," he said casually, suddenly unable to stop smiling.

“Yeah, I know. The other day your father asked me some things…”

Raphael gasped, horrified. “What did he ask you?!”

You chortled at the expression he made. Man, this was about to become the best birthday night ever.

#tmnt 2007 #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2k7 #tmnt raph 2007 #raph 2007 #tmnt raphael #raphael tmnt #rapahel x reader #tmnt 2007 movie #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt

[indecisivekitty]

These Threads of Crimson

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

wc: 1,552

genre: Soulmate AU/One-shot

warnings: maybe the slightest of angst if you squint??

“That red string you see wrapped around your ring finger leads you to your soulmate.”

That’s what you get told when you’re a kid.

Grownups were always constantly excited about telling you about how this soulmate-string thing worked and how they then went on to find theirs. Yet there were also lots of people who didn’t care about the concept of it and ignored it entirely, going on to be with whomever and live their lives however they please without knowing their soulmate at all. Though there were still many who enjoyed the idea of having a soulmate and went on to follow where their string led to the best of their abilities.

Additionally, the string was only visible to you and your soulmate and wasn’t tangible at all. Yet on occasion, there were instances where the string tugged at you—not as forceful as someone pulling you, but nonetheless, you could still feel something when it happened.

Growing up, you also learned that those momentary tugs happened when your soulmate was very distressed or perhaps burdened with a heavy weight. The worse the stressor, the stronger the pull of the string. People have come to say that the string tries to pull you to your soulmate when they feel this way so you can be there to comfort them—hence why it tugs at you during their worst moments.

Hearing that while getting older always made you frown. You felt lots of tugs when you were little—maybe 5 or 8? So you often wondered how old your soulmate was and hoped that he wasn’t that young to have had something tragic happen to him. Assuming it was a man.

You also constantly heard the discussions from kids your age about whether finding and being with your soulmate was worth it. There are many arguments for "It is worth it! It’s your soulmate!” Or, “Can’t I choose who I want to be with? Why do I have to follow some string?”

You quickly decided there was no wrong or right answer. The string only binds you to your soulmate but doesn’t force you to have any obligation or romantic feelings towards them. Soulmates don’t necessarily have to be romantic, right? But you guess that having a romantic soulmate would still be nice regardless. You sincerely hoped that was your case, having your soulmate be the person you end up with.

You looked at the sign of the pub you were outside of. Blowing out a breath, you prayed that whoever was inside felt the same way you do. That they don’t see soulmates as some sort of burden, and no matter what the outcome of this night was, they’d give you some sort of chance to be in their life.

You did come all this way to find them, after all.

Simon wasn’t sure of his opinion when it came to the string tied around his finger. He didn’t care to dwell on it much. Why would he, when he had other important things to place his attention on?

In a perfect world where he lived a perfect life, he would try to find his soulmate. That was something he was sure of, but in this lifetime? He assumed it was too dangerous if he had someone outside of work, plus he wasn’t exactly sure he deserved to have one.

That being said, he finds himself frowning at the string, wondering why it feels tighter all of a sudden. It didn’t feel like those occasional tugs that it would do; the string felt like it was shorter, even more so as the seconds went by. Simon narrowed his eyes at the string as he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Do you ever forget you’re wearing your balaclava while you go to drink?”

Simon looked from his finger to turn his attention to Gaz, raising his brow at the question (not that anyone could really tell anyway). “Once maybe.”

After replying to Gaz, Soap came up to the two men sitting at the bar to clap their shoulders, smiling ear to ear as he drunkenly spoke. “Oi, LT! ‘Member tha’ one time ye drove—got ye drivin’ lessons fer next week!"

Ignoring Gaz’s laughter, Ghost sighed. “And you really think I’d go to that?”

Soap shrugged. “Werk on yer drivin’ fer the future. Come in handy if ye ever have a bairn.”

Ghost shook his head as Gaz got up to put an arm around Soap’s shoulders. “You’re pissed out your mind, so let’s have you sit down, yeah?”

“Pssh… Nawt tha’ plastered,” Soap mumbled, stumbling seconds afterwards. “…Nevermin’.”

Watching the sergeants go, Simon turned his attention to surveying the pub. The string wrapped around his finger was starting to agitate him, his leg bouncing up and down as his eyes darted all over the room. He couldn’t figure out why.

But it quickly became clear as his gaze landed on your figure.

Narrowing his eyes, he figured he had to deal with this problem before it became something bigger—before it became anything at all. Finishing off his drink, he stood up and began his way towards you, trying his best to mind the people around him.

You blinked, a bit dazed, at the huge man heading in your direction. He’s your soulmate? When you walked into the pub, you let the string guide you in his direction and immediately knew who he was without looking at the string for confirmation.

The way he was approaching you felt like you were being stalked by a predator. He moved with ease despite the many people around, but you suppose it isn’t that hard when you’re as confident in your steps as him. It was odd to see your soulmate in person. You weren’t sure if he was what you expected. Then again, what did you expect?

Finally standing in front of you, the man wearing the balaclava tilted his head slightly at you.

Glancing anxiously to the ground and then back to him, you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to say now. “Hi, I’m-“

“Follow me,” he said, cutting you off.

Confused, you opened your mouth to ask, “Sorry, what?”

“Follow me.” The man pocketed his hands in his jacket, glancing towards the entrance of the pub, and gave one last look at you before he headed towards the door and left.

Feeling lost, you looked at the rest of the pub before turning back to the exit where he went through. Sighing, you quickly started to follow his empty path. You figured you already made it this far to find him, right?

 

 

 

You find him not too far from the entrance, leaning against the brick wall of the building beside the pub. You watched as he eyed his surroundings, constantly scanning everyone and everything. Noticing you approaching, he stood up straight and took off his balaclava, shoving it in the pocket of his jacket.

He clenched his jaw while you took in his face. His features were rugged and angular; you thought he looked very masculine. He had the prettiest brown eyes and hair of the same color. You glossed over the scars adorning his face; you didn’t want to seem rude and stare at them (though you did find yourself feeling intrigued at the thought of studying them more closely).

You thought he was beautiful.

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly.

You felt disbelief at his question, and you felt the tiniest bit of shame for trying so hard to find him. “Why am I here? No name, no introduction." He stared at you with crossed arms. You didn’t know why you were even trying to continue this conversation (or lack thereof) with him. “I’m… I followed the string because I wanted to find you.”

“And that was a mistake.”

You tensed, your gaze tightening. “A mistake?” You wrapped your arms around yourself to find some semblance of comfort, your hands clutching the material of your sweater. Exhaling rigidly, “We only just met, and it’s already a mistake?”

He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next and what words he could say to ease the slight tension. His hands flexed absentmindedly; he wasn’t sure how to put into words his opinion of soulmates, and he didn’t feel confident enough in himself to bring up what happened when he was younger.

“I meant that with my work and how I’ve grown up, I’m not entirely certain it was worth it for you to find me,” he said finally. “So for your sake, maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Look, I’m not asking for anything but to be in your life in whatever way. Acquaintances, friends, someone you only ever see at the pub—I’ve found you, and I’m not going to just leave.”

He observed your face, releasing a slight huff. “Stubborn.”

“So is this a yes to us being acquaintances?”

Eyeing the group of drunken people exiting the club, he gave a small nod. “S’pose.” He looked awkward, like he didn’t know how to proceed after you both reached some sort of agreement.

You were the littlest bit amused at seeing him look so out of place. "You never told me your name."

He looked back at you, feeling unexpectedly clumsy at this moment.

"Simon."

#— 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #cod mw ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x you

[ladypeonies]

"Acting is a dangerous profession."

credit.

Some people will watch this extract and just brush if off perhaps as fanservice and miss the point completely. What I like about Chris and Xuan it’s how candid and honest they are about the whole process.

The host says it all, “acting is a dangerous profession,” and both actors agreed. She’s right. So many fans don’t get it, and they focus on the superficial. It’s not just a dangerous profession in Asia. In my opinion it’s more challenging there because most of entertainment industries in Asia rely a lot on Method acting and immersion. You have notice how they call themselves by their character names, on and off set and it has several purposes. I won’t dwell on them here because this post would be too long.

And you have method acting which I have several issues with. It’s basically psychology. I’m not going to write an essay on it here, it basically means one can convince themselves of anything and you can become anyone you want. It’s becoming someone else entirely for a time, by changing your habits based on your environment. You study a character and become them, by assuming their point of view, mannerism, state of mind etc. If they drink you start drinking, if they love someone you love them too etc. Some actors are strongly against method acting for a reason and stick to use their imagination which is way safer. In a live Xuan talked about how physically and mentally it impacted him.

You are still yourself but you can’t escape your character, their emotions bleeds into you. And you use it to play the best version of them by using your body. Of course, Xuan fell in love with his co-star and had all those “evil” thoughts. He learned to fall in love with him and make him the centre of his universe. The preparation for the role, to build a bond took longer than the whole filming.

So, any actor in their shoes will feel the same, if they say no well, they are either lying or just bad method actors, that’s it, no in between.

The trick is to use those emotions while filming and then to be able to let them go. And that’s the issue, because for many it takes time to do so and get rid of them. Notice how Xuan doesn’t say while they were filming NC scenes he had evil thoughts but he was sitting there, so before or even after. The thing is if you hold on to those emotions it can hurt your mental health. They can be addictive. Under those circumstances sometimes there is a co-pendency which appear between actors. I remember an actor explaining how he basically went through a heartbreak because he got attached to his co-star who was engaged to someone else and he was full of emotions for his on-screen partner. And those emotions weren’t there before they started filming. And they knew each other, they were friends before and he never felt that way about them. And his mind knew they weren’t a good match but he kept longing for them.

I talked here about the bubble actors found themselves in. And the best remedy to get rid of those feelings, thoughts are a healthy distance, and being back to oneself. I hear often, “they’re just acting, it’s their job…” etc. Actors aren’t robot. There is a process to play a role and they all have a process to get out of a particular challenging role. Obviously, all roles aren’t the same.

Another thing: Chris and Xuan are friends and were friends but under the circumstances, they don’t have the same friendship they had before filming, the one from a year or two years ago. Friendship 101 had specific boundaries, and now there are new ones in friendship 201. It’s not possible to know the taste of your friend’s mouth, their skin, and be in the same exact friendship. Actors are not robots there isn’t a reset button. Now there is a new set of boundaries. Perhaps before there wasn’t any skinship now because there are use to each other touch, there is more skinship. Before they wouldn’t talk about certain subject, now they can. I believe they gain and also lost some things. The only possibility MAYBE to go back to friendship 101 would be a complete separation for weeks, reset. But it’s not happening because there are promotions and also, you get use to seeing each other all the time, I guess.

Now method acting and falling in love, it happens of course, but has to go through the test of time and distance.

One has a girlfriend/boyfriend and start method acting with a co-star? LOL. 9 out 10 people will break up with their significant other, the GF or BF will leave, it happens all the time.

PS1: I also took the opportunity to answer a couple of asks.

PS2 :Translation by Wava please be kind to your translators and grateful for the work they do, I personally hate translating it can be so taxing.

#unknown the series #unknown bl #chris chiu #kurt huang

[hellobabydoll333]

The Dilemma of ‘Feeling(s)’ & Why You Should Keep the Focus on Yourself

Sometimes I get into the feeling of having and then I’m anxious. I don’t want it to end. I want to know what I should do if/when it ends. So I panic n over-consume- desperate to keep it alive, and then it ends.

We all know that to manifest you just assume. But unfortunately some of us are dealing with circumstances that makes our mind think it’s not that easy. But it is, don’t get me wrong. However, the pressure, the anxiety and the fear is all real. And this is how Law of assumption ties in with mental health and wellness.

I talked about my problem above but luckily I’ve found something that helps and I’m gonna share it with you. If you’ve read my blog, you’ve maybe seen that I live by 3 things:

I am pure consciousness

It is done.

Fuck anything or anyone that says otherwise.

They’re all pretty self explanatory but I shall do a quick dive into all three.

I am Pure Consciousness

I believe I am the creator of my reality and anything can be created at anytime BUT everything I want is already created and I just have to choose what to be aware of just like how I don’t identify with my outer body, but instead, the ‘inner man’ or my soul. I really resonate with this because the soul isn’t something I can see but I know it’s there. So therefore I’m pure consciousness.

It is done

LOA is based off of assumptions as is said in the name. Whatever you assume to be true is true. It’s all about what you assume to be true. If you assume you have all your desires, you do. Which is why we say it is done. Assume it is done and it is so.

Fuck anything/anyone else that says otherwise

As the goddess of my reality, why would I have to care about what anyone else says? I decide, not anyone else. I’m not meant to ever give my power away to anyone or anything ever. I shouldn’t let anyone’s opinions ever affect me or take control of my actions, thoughts or assumptions. It is always me. Why would I let someone influence me into believing that I am anything other than I say I am?

Keep the focus on YOURSELF

After I remind myself of these three principles, I’ll move on. Some people say that obsessing over your desire is fine and is something normal. I agree but if you’re like me obsessing can lead to negativity- thoughts questioning everything and everyone. Sometimes I do dwell in knowing I have everything I want, but when I realize it’s turning into something negative and questioning, I shift my focus. I’m low key a procrastinator (working on it) so I got shit to do always.

The most important thing I’ve been procrastinating is myself. I’ve been looking for ways to better myself and I noticed it’s by learning more about me. Not letting anyone decide who I am. I know that I’m the best version of myself but as I get to know myself more and more I find out how and I find out more and more who this best ver of self is. Who is she? Me.

So something’s I’ve been doing is focusing on participating in more hobbies. And your hobbies don’t need to be destructive, you can do so many things like learn a language- which is fun and educational, you can read- expands your vocabulary, knowledge and is fun. And there are many more. My fav pastimes

And I’ve been focusing on bettering myself, baby steps but I’ve been building a morning, night and other little routines for myself that’ll only do good for myself now and in the long run.

And allat to say

It’s okay if you slip up. We all have our moments however it isn’t the end of the world. During these times make sure you take care of yourself and your mental health and remember that your thoughts not anyone else don’t hold the power- you do. It is done. There’s nothing to stress or worry about. If you ever need someone to talk to (as long as it isn’t trauma dumping) or you have any questions, you can always send me an ask. <3

hellobabydoll333

If you read this already because I accidentally posted it two times… no you didn’t

#angeldust.mp3 #pretty princess syndrome #loass post #dream girl #it girl #law of assumption #self concept #loass angel #loassumption #neville goddard #I am #states #loa #loass posts #loass #loa tumblr #loablr #eiypo #imagination is reality #spirituality #girlblog #hyperfemininity #hyper feminine #hyper femme #hypergamy #shifting #desired reality #reality shifting #mental wellness #mental health

[beansricejc]

Hello 👋 can I pls request boyfriend headcanons for John Constantine? Both sfw and nsfw if you're not uncomfortable? Thanks ❤️

of course nonnie!

cw: possessive behavior, p in v, cursing, smoking

the thing is, i cannot physically imagine this man as a boyfriend. he hates labels. he doesn’t want to over complicate his life and potentially put you in danger by giving you the title of his girlfriend.

“she’s not my girlfriend.” he’d grit his teeth, denying it all together. “i just fuck her, that’s it. well, and we go out, and have dinner at her’s occasionally, and i may have accidentally met her grandma. but she’s not my god damn girlfriend.”

“yeah,” chas would roll his eyes and pass constantine a beer. “whatever you say, dude.”

you two met on somewhat normal of circumstances. that’s why he’s stayed as long as he has, he doesn’t associate his first impression of you with any sort of shitty job. no demons, no half angels, no anything.

i said somewhat.

it was some club that he had been to before in his younger years. he wanted some pussy and to get drunk while doing it. so fuck it. some shit head, a 5’6 dumbass knocked into him and cussed him out in front of the whole bar. turns out, that the short asshole, was your date that night.

the last time he saw that little shit, the dude had walked in on constantine holding you up in the men’s bathroom. his nails dug into the flesh of your ass while he thrusted into your sopping cunt. and the eye contact you two made in that dingy restroom? with his hot breath smelling of gin and cigarettes, you relished in it’s scent while being fucked by constantine, with your date finding himself cucked in the doorway.

what’s a better way to get back at an asshole than fucking his date?

just because you two technically aren’t a couple, doesn’t mean Constantine isn’t a jealous SOB. he doesn’t have much in this world, so anything close to him, he’s stupidly possessive over.

“so, I saw your car at that new bar on Thursday.” constantine would grumble, lighting a cigarette in his weird excuse of an apartment.

“yeah, and? what about it?” you’d reply, changing the channel on the tv to the bachelorette. (he claims he can’t stand that show but will comment his varying opinions on the drama, classic)

“well, what the hell were you up to?” his tone agitated, frowning over at you.

you’d sigh, rolling your eyes. “i was on a date, john.” you ripped the band aid clean off. he’s a grown man, he can handle it.

well, that’s what you assumed.

that’s until your face is pressed into one of his cheap pillows on his bed, his bony hips slapping against the cusp of your ass, as he spanks it over, and over, and over again. the stirring in your core repeats, just on the brink of a blood curdling orgasm. constantine has been denying you of the satisfaction of cumming, he grabs a fistful of your sweaty locks by the base, yanking your head back so you’re forced to look up at him.

“bet he can’t fuck you like me. can he? nah, I’m the only one who knows just how you like it, fuckin’ brat. you don’t deserve my cock, i should have just given you the tip and let you suffer.”

your loud moans and other sinful noises bounce off of the unkempt walls of his dwelling. constantine would pry your mouth open, spitting directly into it, his saliva landing right onto your tongue. yet another power play he can pull, just to humiliate you.

“you’re fuckin’ mine, these tits are mine,” his calloused hands pawing at your bosom. “this ass is mine.” SMACK! you shriek in pain, while he hammers his length deeper into you. “this cunt? yeah, that’s mine, and you got the best baby. so tight, so god damn warm, all for me, right?” his grip on the roots of your hair tightens, shooting pain down your scalp.

“yeah! yes yes yes, john, it’s all yours! f-f-fuck!”

constantine would snicker, grabbing his still lit cigarette from the ash tray on the bedside table and taking a long drag. he blew the smoke right back into your face, which makes you cough and wheeze.

“that’s what I thought. no one else’s, just mine.”

#john constantine x reader #constantine 2005 #john constantine #john constantine x you #constantine x you #Keanu #keanu reeves #keanuverse

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Douse of Water

A.N: Believe it or not, my favorite drink is water, followed by tea. And whose favorite drink is also water? A man of class...yes, yes...

Neuvillette x Reader! 

Genshin Impact MasterList

------

“So, what’s this about?” You asked as you sat down on the lounge in Neuvillette’s office. It didn’t escape you that a roll away table in front of you held…1,2,3, ah….9 glasses. 

Nine glasses of water. 

You were quickly seeing where this was going. 

Neuvillette sat next to you before crossing his legs and gazing at you. He only tapped a finger on the table once before locking them on his knees. 

You smirked, “Ai, you suddenly feel the need to test my taste of water? Is this because I said I was positive that I had been in Teyvat long enough to distinguish the difference?” 

He gave a lazy ripple of his shoulders, “I merely wish to provide you an array of options. After all, getting water from other lands is quite difficult to come by. And if I happen to gauge where your words fall on the spectrum of things, isn’t that all the better?”

You gave a side-eye, “Did you nicely say that you need to verify if my words were indeed true?” 

He lifted his chin, but you could well see the laughter in his eyes, “Well, I am a judge after all.” 

“Don’t you feel you do enough judging? You want to add more to your schedule? 

“But this is a judgement I’m quite interested in making.” 

“Oh-ho, so you aren’t interested in your usual cases?” 

“Please don’t jest. That is a different interest and a far more solemn one.”

“This you, trying for a joke, isn’t it?” 

Neuvillette cocked his head to the side, “A joke? Is that would this would be?” 

“This is a more amusing judgement on your part, hence a joke.” 

“Hm, perhaps I could accept that. Be that as it may, you stated that you had come to love water quite a bit since falling to Teyvat. I had never met anyone else who was as interested in water as you are. After all, I remember you said, that that water in your world had….a distinct flavor.” 

You tsked, “This is one area, you don’t have to be so polite. It was bad. Very bad!” 

“Far be it from me to put words in your mouth, especially about a world I do not know about.” 

You pouted and folded your arms, “Morons had messed up the world so bad, I didn’t know that the air and water could be so delicious until I came here. The first time I tasted water was here in Fontaine, and I never realized it could taste so…so pure.” 

Your head slowly migrated into your hand, “Ah, if my world had gotten it together a century or so earlier, maybe the water would have still been fresh. Irony being I didn’t know that until I came here. I had been robbed my entire life and didn’t know it.” 

You rubbed your temple at the memory. One of many from your world, you’d rather not dwell on anymore. You never thought you’d be so glad when you were plucked from that that world and thrown into this one. At first, you thought you had landed on an alien planet, as you woke up in the village of the Melusines….. 

A soft touch on your arm, jolted you back to the present, “Forgive me. I did not mean to have you recall painful memories, Y/N.” 

You lifted your head and was instantly captured by Neuvillette lavender ones. He always had beautiful eyes in your opinion. 

The Iudex drew his eyebrows together, the soft touch turning into a soft grip on your arm, “Y/N? Are you well?” 

“Ahh! I’m fine!” You snatched your gaze away and looked off. Even now, his eyes had the ability to make you feel as if you were drowning. 

And you did not want to come up for air. 

You felt a warmed gloved hand come under your chin, and slowly brought your gaze back to his concerned ones, “Y/N…what does this mean? Are you sure you are okay? We don’t have to do this if it’s making you uncomfortable.” 

Neuvillette was a man unaware of his own power, at least in that regard. You managed to mentally shook yourself and gave a lopsided grin, reaching up with both hands to grab his hand and pull it down, “Of course not. It’s just water. Don’t worry about me.” 

Your eyes were drawn to his hand squeezing both of yours as he spoke, “Don’t say such words. I will always worry about you. I sometimes admit I still do not understand the nuisances of human emotion, so pardon me, for my foolish questions.” 

You felt yourself warm at his words as you squeeze his gloved hand once more before letting go, “There is no pardon necessary, Monsieur Neuvillette. I think you are doing a rather stellar job. Sometimes too stellar.” 

He seemed genuinely confused then, “How does one do too stellar a job, I wonder?” 

“Like now.” 

“....” 

“Neuvillette, you….I…..never mind. The water…let’s taste the water.” You weren’t sure you wanted to explain exactly what you meant. 

Neuvillette gazed at you a long moment but decided to let it go. 

For now. 

He brought his hands to fold in his lap as he sat back, “Well, whenever you are ready.” 

You looked at the table. The fine glasses were sitting in a neat row, in front of numbers. 

“My favorite number: 7…”, you stated, picking up that glass before taking a drinking. 

Neuvilllette watched as a please smile fell on onto your face. Yes, he quite liked to see these emotions display on your face and not the fear that he saw when he first met you. You were the definition of a fish out of water, when you woke up in the Melusine’s village.  You had inadvertently caused a panic, as you just suddenly appeared in a random villager's house. Thankfully, it seemed you were not a threat, although Neuvillette remembered the fear he fought as he quickly made his way down to the village. 

As soon as he stepped into the house, he saw you had pressed yourself into a corner and looked for all the world like a frightened rabbit. The plate of food in front of you was untouched, as well as the water. You only tensed even more when he entered the house. It took awhile for him to get you to respond. For a little bit, he wasn’t sure you even understood the language. However, you finally decided to speak. 

After a while, he managed to coach you to come with him. The trust was fragile in those days, but eventually he became your strongest supporter in settling down in a new world. You had even come to love the Melusines and no longer saw them as a threat. Ironic, that now, you if you went to the village you would have a swarm of Melusines, especially the young, all vying for your attention. Archons help you, if you showed up ready to do their hair. 

Neuvillette gave a private smile at the thought. 

“The hills are alive with the sound of music….” you murmured, “This is definitely Mondstadt. Ah, I’ve never tasted a water so pure and clean. It’s like drinking air. I quite like…” 

Neuvillette smiled, “Correct. But that is probably an easy one.” 

You eyed him over the glass as you finished the Mondstadt water. You decided not to say anything as you chose glass # 3. After all, you could let your actions speak louder. 

You brought it to your lips and gave a winced, “Ugh, I swear Inazuma water always electrocute me and not in a good way. This is some of the strongest water in this land. I don’t like it. It’s fresh and clean, but too much going on.” You didn’t finish drinking that water and set the glass down. 

“Correct. And I agree, Inazuman water is quite the acquired taste.” 

You brought glass #4 to your lips. You really hoped this would be palate cleansing, “Ah, this one is also strong but a gentle strength that smacks you once, but you really like it. Like spicy food. Natlan.” 

“Correct.” 

“And glass #1…..” You gave a sip before slowly bringing it down and gazing at Neuvillette. You were trying not to break out in laughter, although your eyes danced, “I would suspect that if I got this wrong, you would sentence me quite harshly.” 

“You are correct, Madame Y/N….this is one that if you get nothing else right, this one you should. It….has quite a distinct flavor.” 

“Ohh…?” You sung, “Hm, pure and fresh but has an elegant sweetness that lingers.” You took another sip, both your gazes locked on the others, “Quite clean, its purity is really top grade. Almost translucent, if such a word could have a taste.” 

Neuvillette leaned forward a pace, then, “Your verdict?” 

You took another sip of water, teasingly. 

“Must I find you in contempt of court?” 

“Oh no, your honor. Obviously this is the water of this beloved nation.” 

Neuvillette sat back, “Correct.” 

You picked up glass #2 and gave a sip before again side-eyeing Neuvillette, “You know, I wondered why there were 9 glasses and only 7 lands. Some had to be double. Mondstadt. Really good…” You drunk the glass in its entirety. 

“Correct.” 

“And glass #5…..ah, I hear the birds and can taste the sunshine. Not as hot as Natlan, but has heat. Sumeru.” 

“Correct.” 

“And #8….” You grimaced as it slid down your throat and gave a shiver, “Ah, Snezhnayan water is so cold. It’s almost too cold for me to enjoy.” You gingerly took another sip and put it down, “Nope, still too cold.” 

“Correct.” 

You picked the final glass, #6 and gave a sip, “And to finish it off, water from Fontaine again!” 

“Congratulations, you got all of them correct.” 

“And now you have verified that my words were not just mere words.” 

“Then allow me to apologize. You have proven my wrong. You are indeed a water connoisseur.” 

You gave a sly look, “Much like yourself, then?” 

“Yes, I suppose that would be true.” 

“So, what do I win?” 

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow, “Win?” 

You turned to him, “My prize, for getting them all correct.” 

“I don’t remember us agreeing to any such prize.” 

You gave a mock scowl, “You better have a prize for me! I want a prize.” 

Neuvillette gazed down at you for a long moment as you pouted up at him. 

“Hm, perhaps I can offer something sweeter than the best water on this table. Only if you permit, of course.” 

He piqued your interest then as your eyebrows shot up, “Really? What? I permit, I permit!” You reflexively looking around, wondering what it could be. 

It was only when you felt a hand behind your head that you looked back in time for Neuvillette to capture your lips with his. Your surprise wore off quickly as you leaned into him. Placing your hands on his chest, you fairly melted into him. His other hand came to capture your cheek, subtly angling your head. 

Neuvillette chuckled as he pulled away and looked at you, who looked a little dazed. He quite liked watching these kinds of emotions flit upon your face. Leaning forward, he nuzzled his nose into your cheek. 

“So what is your verdict? Is it sweeter or no?” 

“Sweeter? Very much so. In fact, I’d like to throw myself at the mercy of the court….” 

“Oh, and?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Don’t play, Monsieur Neuvillette. You know, well, what I mean.” 

A deep chuckle reverberated in the room, “Indeed. This time I do. You wish to sample such a palate again, no? Does that not require you to order from the menu? The server knows not what to bring unless the customer asks, yes?” 

You just deadpanned looked at him, “You have a profound ability to take the long way around.” 

“It’s a gift. As a judge, one must be able to see all angles.” 

You thumped his chest with both hands once, “How? How does that have anything to do with what we are talking about?” 

He reached up with one hand and caressed the back of yours, “You are trying to bribe the judge. Do you admit it?” 

Suddenly a knock sounded on the door had Neuvillette pulling away, even though it was rather reluctantly, “Enter.” 

You pouted quickly once before Sedene, the Meslusine receptionist, came in, “Forgive the disturbance, Monsieur Neuvillette. Your 4’o clock will be here in five minutes. You said wanted a warning.” 

“Yes, thank you!” He turned to you with regret in his eyes after Sedene exited, “It seems we will have to continue this later.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m glad you could pencil me in, though.” You smiled graciously as you stood. You grabbed the roll away table, “I’ll wheel this out for you. You need to focus back on your….” 

You were pulled suddenly and found yourself pressed against Neuvillette, who gave you a hungry kiss. Wrapping your hands around him, you could feel his desire, and his regret at the short meeting, and a thousand other things that went unsaid. 

As quick as it came, he pulled back, “Forgive me. It seems I could not resist. Thank you, Y/N, for your understanding.” 

His fingers lingered along your jaw as you quickly tried to compose yourself, “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Then your head snapped up when your hand was picked up, and you watched Neuvillette place a chaste kiss on the back of it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You…aren’t doing yourself any favors. You have a 4 o’clock.” you whispered after a moment lingered with neither of you moving. 

Neuvillette straightened, “Hotel De’ Bosis, 8 o’clock dinner. How does that sound?” 

You smiled, “That sounds wonderful.” 

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfict #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette x reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Supernatutral Yandere Harem x GN reader

Word count: 1k

Warning; swearing

/1/2/3/

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“Quiet, Sharon. It’s happening again.”

-

With time, you had reluctantly grown used to all the new members of your household. As a break for your dwelling sanity, the latest addition wasn’t as clingy as the others. Though they gave the occasion stare and more of your belongings had gone missing than ever before, the reaper kept to themselves for the most part. With their distance and the fact they save your life; you didn’t mind them as much. Plus they had a literal hold of your heart, but you tried not to think about that as much. As an added bonus, they didn’t try to take over your bed like Alasdair and Baron had; instead choosing the couch as their makeshift bed. This wasn’t much of a problem… until you happened to need a place to sit down or lost something. 

“Shit… where are my keys.” 

You mutter in frustration as you search your dresser for your house keys, opening one of its drawers to check there. After failing to wake up due to some mysterious force, you now had to rush to get ready for work. Said force was still half asleep in your bed, arms wrapped around your pillow and occupying the space that you once did. 

“Baron, did you take my keys again?”

He shakes his head, burying his face further into the pillow. “No… but maybe that means you should just stay home today.”

“Not happening.” You hear him whine after you as you exit the room, heading towards the kitchen where the smell of toast and brewed coffee hit you in the face. Alasdair sat at the table, a plate across from him and a cup in his hand. 

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Have you seen my keys?”

“No, I haven’t. Coffee?”

You take the cup and a small sip with it, immediately handing it back to him. It was black, and you didn’t even have a coffee maker to begin with. He mouths the rim where your lips once where as you rush from the room and onto the next.

The grim reaper was lying on the couch as always, curried around a pillow with your shirt as its cover. 

Most people would freak out seeing a being from beyond the veil laying on their couch as would anyone who saw an angel or demon in the room prior, but when they looked like a tired college student and you’ve already had two other celestials in your home; the only thing that mattered was not being late to work again. 

“Hey. Wake up. I need to see if my keys are in the couch.”

They stir lightly, but their eyes remain shut.

“Maddox, come on I’m going to be late.”

That definitely catches their attention. They look up at you, slumber gone from their eyes. 

“What did you just say?”

“Maddox. That’s what I’ve been calling you in my head for the past few weeks. Can you move?”

Maddox slowly rises, a bubbly feeling arisen in their chest. They had never had a name before, only listed before as a mere number. It was one of the reasons they failed to give you their title until now. Names were more of a mortal thing, but upon being given one their opinion changed drastically. Their face felt slightly warm. Maddox – it’s nice.

“What the fuck?”

Baron stands at the entrance to the living, a mix of heartbreak and anger in his eyes.

You fish out your keys from the cushions. “Found them.”

“You gave them a name?”

You place the set in your pocket. “Yea, what about it?”

“What about it? What about me? I’ve asked you to give me one since we first met.”

“I needed something to call them by, and I’m pretty ninety percent sure giving them a name wouldn’t tie me to them, unlike whatever demon laws that exist.”

“I need to go. See you later.” You leave, despite Baron’s protests. He then turns his aggression on the property target, who had been sitting quietly until then.

“What makes you so damn special?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of our connection?” 

Baron's eyes narrow. “Are you trying to imply you’re Y/n’s favorite?”

“ I’m not implying anything, but.. I am in possession of their heart. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even be with them now. The sands of time are lonely, but we could have made due there.”

“I literally own their soul.”

“But they have yet to give you a command.. doesn’t that make the contract void?”

“Listen here motherfucker-"

“What is going on in here?” Alasdair enters from the kitchen, morning ruined by the overheard bickering. 

“Y/n gave them a name and hasn’t given me one yet, when I’m clearly the favorite.” 

Alasdair sighs. “That’s a stretch if I’ve ever heard one. Y/n cares about us all equally, which isn’t very much as it is. If anyone is their favorite it would be me. I’ve been with them their entire life.”

“I’m a better guardian than anyone. Noone has bothered them since I came around.”

“Weren’t you by their side when they got shot?” 

Everything goes silent. Baron stared blankly at the angel. His chest heaves. His jaws unhinge, growls seething through clenched teeth.

“You son of a-"

-

Your neighbor sits on his front porch, watching everything unfold through a crack in your curtains. Nobody believed him when he said your house was full of monsters and whenever he tried to take pictures they came out warped. So now, he was stuck with being the only one with knowledge of your roommates, and the only one who shared in the loss of sanity. 

-

You walk faster as you hear your windows rattling in their frames. Not your circus, not your monkeys – at least until you got home. You spot your neighbor in his chair by his steps. You wave slightly, he hurries inside.

#yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere story #yandere #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere ocs #tw yandere #yandere series #soft yandere #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #yandere demon #yandere angel #yandere grim reaper #x reader #monster x human #mogeko x reader #reader insert #yandere harem #request

[rieadiary]

GOOD KISSER | s.jk

dancer!jake x ballerina!reader

summary ; wherein your teacher gives you an assignment to learn hip hop dancing which leaves you to learning something else

warnings ; entitlement, I don’t know much about ballet, subby reader

a/n ; starting a series soon! very excited for that, also not spam tagging since apparently that’s a problem :(

You walked in the dance studio with a very closed mindset, from your understanding you had only been told that dancers weren’t clean and very unkept but maybe today was going to change that opinion you were told.

Your ballet teacher had assigned you to drift off into your ‘hip hop’ side for a newer project you were working on. She deemed that you weren’t as good at regular dancing as you were with ballet which should’ve been explanatory because you had only done ballet.

“Ah, you’re y/n right?” Jake’s thick accent fluctuated through your ears. He came up to hug you but you stopped him, putting a hand on his chest. “And I’m assuming you’re jake..”

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted, I’m cool I swear” jake boasted with a comforting smile but you were more or so focused on his relaxed outfit. Who would wear a muscle shirt to practice? Wasn’t that for at home only? At least that’s what your mother had taught you.

“I’m just here so I can dwell into other dances, not for friendships”

Jake pursued his lips into a thin line, humming along “seems fair. How about you teach me something that’s easy and I’ll do the same”

You grinned at his idea, setting your bag down as you immediately got into position.

“We’ll start with a arabesque shall we?” You said with a light smile, doing the routine quickly and slowly so that Jake could catch on easily.

“Alright, I’ll do your Albuquerque”

“It’s arabesque—” you tried to say but Jake started his turn, following your moves in the same delicacy you had, even landing the same way.

“H-how did you— how did you just do that? So perfectly?” You blabbered, astonished that there’s wasn’t any mistake in his dance.

“Don’t know, I just did” Jake crossed his arms, smirking at your amazement.

“You just did?” You scoffed, “yeah okay whatever. Let’s do your move then” you challenged, pissed off that this only had seemed like a competition to only you.

Jake clapped at your sentence, “alright then love, let’s start with Krumping” he finished and you grimaced at the pet name, your eyes watching him turn the music on.

The music played and Jake started krumping, his moves bouncy but clear cut. It was definitely something you’d never see yourself doing but for the sake of your teacher, you guessed today you’d try it out.

Jake stopped the music and smiled at you, “your turn” he clapped again, jolting you out of your stiff stance. “Can’t you pick something less..” you trailed off and Jake shook his head, going back to the radio,

“Stop being so scared to do something different, you’ll always fail if you don’t try”

His words somehow comforted you, his smile and his goofy thumbs up giving you more motivation than you had being in ballet class.

The music started and Jake circled around you, spewing hype words to hype you up for your dance. “Cmon y/n show me that side of you, I know it’s dangerous” he dared, clapping just before the beat drop.

The beat flowed through you, you attempted to krump but it turned into a mix of krumping and wacking, the more and more you danced the more jake hyped you up, yelling where there was a move he particularly liked seeing you do.

You tried to do more but you ended up laughing at yourself, letting loose as you realized how ridiculous you started to look. Jake paused the music and ran up to you, picking you up and spinning you happily and you let him, laughing and smiling with him.

“See? That wasn’t so bad was it?” Jake put you down, smiling from ear to ear. You nodded, realizing that hip hop dancing wasn’t actually as bad as ballet dancers made it.

“Jake i—” you didn’t know what to say, you hadn’t had this much fun in awhile; or ever if you were being honest.

“Hm? Wanna dance some more?”

It was like he read your mind. All of the things you didn’t know how to say he said it and wasn’t ashamed of it either.

“No.. I have to leave soon, maybe tomorrow?” You dismissed walking back to your bag but Jake stopped you, handing his phone to you “give me your number? We could visit each other and dance wherever. Sounds fun yeah?”

For once you didn’t want to disagree. Your mother would burn the house down if she knew a hip hop dancer was coming into her house but you wanted to live a little, so why not. You took Jake’s phone and he smirked, rubbing his hands together while he waited for you to put your number in.

“See you then” you greeted as jake winked, biting his lip as you walked off.

Usher Raymond.

That was the artist jake decided y’all were going to dance to, the song ‘good kisser’ to be exact. In your media room, the lights dimmed, and your mother being gone for the afternoon.

His hands guided your hips on him, the both of you grinding on each other as the beginning of the song played. Neither of you had said anything but the mood felt very sensual. Jake patted your thigh in direct for you wrap your legs around him and you followed, letting him take control of the dance.

Towards the end of the song you began to felt needy for him to do something else, something that didn’t involve just dancing. The song finally turned off and the only noise was the two of you breathing in each others faces, craving each other in more ways than one.

“Jake please..” you whispered quietly as he set you down on the couch, towering over you.

“What y/n? Tell me what you want” his voice was low and husky, his hands moving to your inner thigh in the inside of your shorts.

“I-I-” what was it that you wanted? You didn’t know what you were asking for but you needed it, you needed it so badly that you grabbed Jake’s face and kissed him, the kiss heated and messy.

Jake took initiative of what you wanted and moved his hand to your pussy as he slowly started rubbing your clit, stimulating the soft area.

You moaned in the kiss, pulling away as you felt pleasure spread inside you. “J-Jake-” you whimpered out, and he hummed, speeding his fingers up as he overstimulated your clit. “Yeah? You like that?” Jake taunted as he removed his fingers and pulled off your bottoms, sticking his fingers in your mouth shortly after.

You sucked on his fingers, your eyes glancing up at him ever so slightly. “Mhm, good girl y/n” jake removed his fingers from your mouth, he immediately stuck his fingers inside of you, starting at a slow pace, seeing your mouth open slightly as the pleasure took over you.

“That feel good?” You nodded at his question and jake smirked, speeding up his fingers inside of you, curling his fingers to hear your moans grow louder. “Hm? Tell how it feels love, tell me how I’m making you feel, tell me” he leaned down to kiss your neck, his fingers hitting your g-spot almost on every finger movement.

“S-so good jake, yes, that feels so good r-right there” you could barely make out words at this point, nothing but moans and whimpers spewing from your mouth.

Jake hummed on the sensitive skin on your neck, speeding up as he felt himself getting pleasure from making you feel good. You felt his fingers move in and out of you and it felt too good, suddenly you had your eyes closed shut so tightly you were seeing white now, “jake I’m c-cumming oh- I’m cumming”

“Yeah? Cum y/n, cum all over my fingers” he whispered in your ears and you did exactly that, your mouth forming an ‘o’ before you released on his fingers.

Jake smirked seeing you open your half-lidded eyes, he enjoyed seeing you in a state of bliss and all he did was finger you.

You caught your breath, staring at jake who smirked “what’s the smirk for?” You questioned and Jake bit his lip, “next time you’re going to ride me” he said in full prideful promise.

xoxo, riea!

TAGS ;

#enhypen #kpop x reader #kpop #smut #jake enhypen #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #kpop smut

[alltoowelltom]

CAN U PLSSSS PLSSS PLS write a part 2 for who'd you rather ?

PLS

Who'd You Rather (part two)

tom holland x reader

summary: your first interview as a couple after your relationship was exposed on live tv

a/n: babes tysm for all the love on who'd you rather! i'm sorry if part 2 is kinda crappy cause i'm currently sick with covid but i really wanted to get back into the swing of writing so i hope you enjoy <3

part 1

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

November 2021

“Two minutes until you’re on,” calls a stagehand, poking their head around the dressing room door to make sure you’ve heard. Tom nods at the person, standing up from his seat and walking over to where you sit, having the finishing touches applied to your hair. 

“Nervous?” he asks, taking note of your leg tapping on the ground anxiously. 

You shrug, looking up at him. 

“Yeah. Like, I’m happy we don’t have to hide it or sneak around anymore, but I’m scared of people’s opinions, you know? I just don’t want us to let anything get in the way of our relationship.” you explain, taking his hand as he helps you stand up and begin walking out to the side of the stage. 

He nods understandingly. “I know baby. But we talked about this, remember? We agreed to help each other not listen to anyone’s negative opinions. We love each other and that’s what matters. Or, at least, I love you.” he teases, poking your hip to try and get a smile out of you. 

You laugh lightly, jerking away from his hand and rolling your eyes. 

“I love you too, loser. Even if you did out our relationship on live television.”

“Me?” gasps Tom, pretending to be shocked. “I think you’ll find it was you who called. All I did was be a loving boyfriend and pick up the phone at three A.M. to make sure my girlfriend was alright.”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice, not unless I wanted to punt Ellen right into the audience to grab my phone back.”

Tom laughs silently, eyes crinkling as he grabs your hand, hearing Jimmy Fallon introduce you two. 

“Now that would have gone viral.” he whispers, leading you out. 

The first part of the interview goes smoothly, conversation flowing between you, Tom, and Jimmy about your upcoming movie. Just as you relax into your seat, subconsciously leaning into Tom’s side for comfort Jimmy clears his throat. 

“Now, Y/N.” he says, hands resting on a large square card that’s face down on his desk. “We all know you had quite the exposing experience earlier this year when you accidentally outed your relationship on the Ellen show.”

You roll your eyes playfully as the audience cheers, remembering the viral clip of Tom’s groggy voice and your eyes frozen in shock that neither of you had been able to escape for weeks afterwards. 

“Yep.” you say tightly. “That was a thing. That happened. To us.”

Jimmy laughs as he holds up the card, revealing the photo you and Tom had both posted at the end of May, confirming your relationship in hopes to calm the speculations. In the photo, you held your phone up in front of a large mirror, grinning while Tom wrapped his arm around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while your free hands joined up to form a heart shape.

“I promise we won’t dwell on this for too long.” continued Jimmy as you shifted slightly in your seat. “I just wanted to ask, since this is your first interview as a couple since confirming your relationship. We all saw Ellen try to set you two up, but how did you really end up together? Did Tom actually follow her instructions and call you up?”

Tom places his hand on your knee, silently telling you that it’s your decision on how to answer. You two had discussed this at great length before, Tom saying he really wouldn’t mind people knowing but you always pointing out that there was something so special about a private relationship, and mentioning you were scared of people giving their unsolicited opinions. Thirteen year olds on the internet can be viscous when you’re publicly dating their celebrity crush. You could give a generalised answer and dodge the question, and Jimmy being one of the more respectful interviewers would most likely pick up on your discomfort and move on gracefully. Or, you think, feeling Tom press a lightning quick peck to your hairline, you could be honest. 

“Well,” you begin, reaching over to clasp Tom’s hand tightly in your own. “We were really good friends already, right? So we were staying in a hotel during the press tour in 2019.”

“Was this before or after you professed your love for him on the Ellen show?” cuts in Jimmy. 

“Wha- I didn’t-” you stutter, covering your reddening face. “I did not profess my love!”

“Oh come on love,” says Tom cockily, puffing out his chest. “You couldn’t shut up about me, you thought I was double tasty.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Do you two turkeys want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

Tom and Jimmy both nod, shrinking back into their seats like scolded toddlers. 

“I suppose it was after I, ‘professed my love’, as you knuckleheads insist on putting it,” you say, using air quotes. “So as I was saying, we were staying in a hotel and there was this massive thunderstorm. When I say it was storming, I mean it was storming. The top floors of the hotel - which we were on - were shaking and rattling like crazy. It was like ten giant Shreks were farting all at once, the hotel was wobbling so much. I genuinely thought someone had come into my room and started shaking my bed every time there was a thunderclap. Now, I don’t particularly find much enjoyment in thunderstorms-”

“She’s terrified of them.” confirms Tom, thumb rubbing your hand comfortingly. 

“So I was proper freaking out. Then to make things worse, some madman starts frantically banging on my door.”

“It was the bed shaker!” laughs Jimmy. “Got locked out.”

The audience laughs loudly along with you and Tom and you wipe a stray tear from under your eye. 

“It wasn’t the bed shaker,” you laugh. “It was Tom. At two A.M. in the middle of a thunderstorm, practically breaking my door down and I swear to you, I was this close to shitting myself.” you cover your mouth suddenly. “Oops,” you say. “I can’t swear here, can I?” 

Jimmy shakes his head. “We can bleep it out a few times, it’s okay.”

“Now, in my defence,” Tom stars, addressing the audience. “I had tried to call her twice just to make sure she was okay, you know, with the storm and everything, but because it was so loud she hadn’t heard and I got worried.” he pouts and you rub his arm comfortingly, allowing him to playfully rest his head on your shoulder. You clear your throat and continue, determined to get to the end of this story. 

“So I open the door and there’s Tom in his PJs, hair sticking up in twenty different directions, holding snacks and a fluffy blanket. He said he’d just sit with me until the storm cleared up and then one thing led to another and…here we are, I guess.”

Tom nods, grinning as he wraps an arm around you, not really caring about the cameras and millions of viewers. All he wants to do right now is shower his girl in love as he basks in the memory of the night. your relationship changed. “Here we are,” he repeats. 

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

tysm for reading, u a real one <3 reblogs and comments are super appreciated !

tagging some people who asked for a part 2: @justasecretwriter @hllandvibbes @youcompletemesk @taetaebunni @siriuslysmoking @loxbbg

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland smau #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #nathan drake #peter parker

[laurelsofhighever]

Unpopular opinion time: I really don’t care for the Titans as a concept. Or rather, I don’t like the way they fit into the worldbuilding of Thedas. It’s a symptom of this ongoing problem BioWare has where everything has to have some grand, shocking twist and an intricate backstory that connects with the intricate backstory of everything else. It’s like a slow power creep to the lore that honestly reminds me most of Supernatural in how desperate it is to outdo itself.

The Dalish Creators aren’t apocryphal characters used to impart moral lessons or explain natural phenomena – they were real, and they weren’t really gods, just super powerful mages who enslaved a bunch of people and used them to build statues!

The Fade isn’t just another, natural layer of existence that only a few can tap into – it was created by Some Guy who decided to fight the Actually Real Elvhen Gods and then had a nap about it for several thousand years!

Lyrium isn’t just a toxic mineral that causes neurological degradation but also happens to enhance magical ability – it’s actually the crystalised blood of an ancient race of giant beings that were hunted to extinction by the Actually Real Elvhen Gods!

The dwarves don’t have Stone Sense because of their specific cultural identity and because their society that’s based underground needs to know how to navigate without the sun – they were literally created by an ancient race of giant beings who decided to make them to the same vague shape as other bipedal mammals for some reason!

(these aren’t the only examples, they do it with everything from character backstories to religious schisms)

It’s like they don’t trust the player to suspend their disbelief in a fantasy world where magic and dragons are real, and the ironic thing is that by dissecting everything instead of just letting these story elements just be, it makes everything about Thedas feel smaller, and less like an intricate, organic world.

In DAO, we’re introduced to many gods – Avvar, Elvhen, Andrastian, as well as the dwarven concept of “the Stone” – and they exist in the role that gods fill in the real world: cultural artifacts that create a shared sense of identity. It makes sense for there to be similarities between the Elvhen Creators and the Avvar pantheon, given the amount of interaction between the two groups before they became isolated by persecution. Similarly, it makes sense that dwarves would have an entirely different theology structured around the material that literally encases them their whole lives and marks them as distinct from the surface-dwelling races. to reduce these belief systems to single, quantifiable truths makes as much sense as trying to claim the Real Zeus was [specific guy] from [specific time period]. It also does such disrespect to the individuals who make up these cultures, and who would have, through history, changed it simply by being part of it.

With the Titans specifically, they weren’t needed. We already had a concept of dwarves that worked well as a framework for the stories being told in the games: insular, rigid caste system, hub of the lyrium trade, collective PTSD from a millennia of fighting darkspawn. It’s cultural background radiation that adds motive and flavour for character actions, and that’s all it needs to be.

We don’t need to know precisely how Stone Sense works, just that it does. We don’t need to know where dwarves – or elves, or qunari, or humans – really come from, it’s enough for the story that they exist within a collective cultural identity. We don’t need to know what lyrium is, we just need to know that bad things happen when characters play with it.

It's fantasy. A wizard did it. The wizard shouldn’t feel the need to pull back his own curtain and then also rip the casing off the mechanism, just to prove how clever he is.

#dragon age meta #bioware critical #let a little ambiguity in guys #just a little mystery #like with chinese painting you want the suggestion of mountains #the imagination fills in the rest

[hard-core-super-star]

Hi, I have a request for hailee steinfeld x reader:

Reader is the type of celebrity that hates that she's a celebrity(hope this isnt confusing), so when it comes to doing press tours and interviews and going to award shows and so on, she is rarely at them. But when it comes to her girlfriend, Hailee. She attends.

stars by the pocketful [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: going to crappy award shows was never something you found enjoyable. lucky for you, your girlfriend takes it upon herself to change that.

warnings: none, just fluff; very vague mentions of anxiety; vague descriptions of famous people being jerks; i still can't write endings

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: yes, the summary sucks but that's only because the request IS the summary. this is technically set during the 2024 grammy’s but it's not very expanded on…and yes, the taylor cameo serves no real purpose besides making me laugh. hope you enjoy and thank you lovely anon for the request <3

* * * * * * *

There were so many better things to be doing on a Sunday night. Maybe going to the movie theater or to a random concert or even just taking a stroll down the beach. Anything and everything would be better than being at an overwhelmingly loud (yet underwhelming in all the other categories) award show.

You know you should enjoy events like these, not only is it a part of your job but it's an opportunity to celebrate the unique talent that fills every industry you happen to either admire or be a part of. However, they're also the one place where all your emotions are capitalized, no matter how big or small your reactions are.

Again, it's part of the job. But it doesn't mean you have to like it.

Although, you will admit, out of all the award shows you’ve been to since meeting Hailee, the Grammys are usually the most bearable. Maybe it’s the people involved or the performances or the bright smile on your girlfriend’s face that no amount of chaos can wipe away.

You can’t say that you’re as unaffected as she is but you’re definitely making an effort to focus on the good instead of the bad…and there’s a lot of bad in your opinion.

You don’t get the chance to dwell on those thoughts for longer than a few seconds since Hailee slips her hand into yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze. You turn your head away from the stage to find her looking at you, her eyebrows furrowed as if she’s studying each and every one of your features. You don’t have to say a word for her to notice your discomfort.

She’s way too good at reading your emotions, especially at moments like these.

She leans in toward you while the current performance comes to an end but the applause that fills the room is nothing compared to the sound of her voice. “We can leave if you want.”

You shake your head almost as soon as you hear her whispered words. “I’m fine.”

She opens her mouth, most likely to point out the fact that you’re lying, but the cameras cut to commercial and the room comes alive once again. It’s not the commotion that distracts her but the tap on her shoulder that’s followed by a friendly voice.

This time you’re the one who gives her hand a reassuring squeeze before she turns to face Taylor. The blonde in question offers you a warm smile before sweeping your girlfriend up in a lively conversation. You watch the exchange for a few seconds, completely in awe of the way Hailee seems to come alive while she talks about her music.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to her, not wanting to distract her.

Your hand slips out of her grasp before you make a beeline for the closest bathroom. Unfortunately for you, your path to peace and quiet is blocked by too many people who definitely don’t like you. You’re not sure what part of your personality isn’t up to their standards today but you do your best to ignore their disdainful looks while you slip past them.

Ignoring their looks is easy. Ignoring their not-so-quiet comments proves to be significantly harder.

You’ve been in this business long enough to know you shouldn’t waste your time trying to prove yourself to people. Especially people who don’t care enough about you to actually try to get to know you and instead get their information from social media or made-up articles from untrustworthy sources.

But just because you shouldn’t waste your time on them doesn’t mean their comments don’t sting a little…or a lot. A sting that's particularly painful when the before-mentioned comments are made by friends of your girlfriend.

You finally make it to the bathroom, quickly stepping inside and taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Your steps are slow and calculated as you approach the sink and, thankfully, when you look up toward the mirror, the reflection that greets you seems cool and collected.

It seems you manage to get yourself under control at the right moment since the door swings open a few seconds later. You pretend to be busy checking the small amounts of makeup on your face when the person speaks up.

“Hey, there you are.” Your shoulders immediately relax once you realize who it is. “Is everything okay?”

You nod, not yet turning to face her, knowing you won’t be able to fool her if she sees your face. “Yeah, I just needed a break.”

You hear her sigh before the sound of her heels against the tiled floor reverberates around the room. So much for trying to fool her.

“You don't have to lie, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.” Her warm hand wraps around your forearm and you meet her eyes through the mirror in front of you. She doesn’t try to pull you toward her. Instead, she gives you time to decide what you need from her.

“I'm just a little overwhelmed,” you confess before following it up with a joke. “I can't believe so many people like talking about us.”

You crack a small smile at your joke, hoping Hailee will smile too but she doesn't. “Did someone say something to you?”

This time you’re the one who sighs.“Nothing I haven't heard before, Lee.”

“Wh-”

You shake your head, effectively stopping her before she can say anything else. “It doesn't matter who. I'm fine.”

You emphasize your point by finally turning your body to face her. Unfortunately, the subtle signs of your unease become perfectly clear now that she’s able to look directly at you. Her hand drops down from your arm to your wrist, drawing slow circles on your pulse point and noticing how fast your heart is still beating.

“You're clearly not if you're hiding in the bathroom instead of being out there with me.”

“I'm that easy to read, huh?” You take the smallest step forward, encouraging her to drop your hand and wrap her arms around your waist instead.

“Only to me, baby.” She pulls your body closer to her before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “You don't have to hide how you feel with me, alright? I won't be upset.”

“There’s nothing to say, I’m just being dumb.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not dumb to be upset when people say shitty things about you.”

You would love to agree with her but it’s not like it’s anything new. Your disdain for most celebrity experiences like award shows and fancy parties has earned you quite the reputation, not as an introvert, but as a stuck-up brat who doesn’t realize how lucky she is. Dating Hailee has only amplified that reputation with the added little bonus that now you’re also labeled as a ‘golddigger.’

You’re pretty sure that ridiculous rumor was started by Hailee’s PR team to try and stop her from making your relationship official. Their strategy backfired tremendously in regard to your relationship but unfortunately, you’re still dealing with the fallout in the form of backhanded compliments and ill-natured questions.

“Hey.” The feeling of her hands caressing your back brings you back to reality. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do you ever regret this?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Choosing me? Coming out?”

“I think you know better than anyone that my closet was made of literal glass,” she jokes, successfully getting you to smile despite yourself. You’re rewarded with that subtle shine her eyes get whenever she talks about something she loves. In this case, it’s you. “y/n, you don’t ever have to worry about me regretting being with you. I love you. My love isn’t conditional or superficial, it’s real, no matter if people think it’s a good business decision or not. I don’t care about any of that, I just care about how we feel.”

“You’re giving Emily Dickinson a run for her money with that speech.”

Your comment gets a laugh out of both of you. Her previous words paired with the sound of her laugh and the affection in her eyes are more than enough to get you to forget all about those fake people and their stupid comments.

You lean forward and capture her lips in a sweet kiss that’s full of all the things you love about her. Her warmth, her unparalleled joy, her loving touch. All the things you never thought you would find until Hailee stumbled into your life.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” she says with a smile once the two of you pull away.

“I am,” you confirm. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, my love. I’d be a horrible girlfriend if I let you continue to feel miserable.”

You lean in closer until your head is resting on her shoulder, your breath ghosting the skin of her neck. You stand in silence for a few seconds as you both enjoy the serenity that fills the space around you.

“Sometimes I wish we could pack up our stuff and move to the middle of nowhere for a few months,” you whisper.

Your girlfriend doesn't skip a beat. “Let's do it.”

“Hailee…I was kidding. You know we can't.”

“Yeah, we can. We can rent out a place, wherever you want, and not tell anybody. Not our families, not our teams, and definitely not the paparazzi. If it's a break you want then that's exactly what I’ll give you.”

You lift your head from her shoulder, staring at her with furrowed eyebrows and barely contained excitement. “What about the Oscars? And all the other award shows you've been invited to?”

“First of all, we have been invited to them,” she corrects you while she tucks a few stray pieces of hair behind your ear. “And second of all, none of that stuff matters more than you. You're all I want and nothing sounds better than escaping all this chaos with you for a few months.”

“You’re sure?”

Her response doesn’t come in words. She only nods before kissing you again. Her lips taste of sincerity and adventure and a slight aftertaste of cinnamon.

“I’m sure, baby,” she murmurs against your lips just in case you have any doubts. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing