#no hate to people who like him though i like him too i just am more of a comics fan

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

[luveline]

oooh what about a lil blurb about bombshell r and spencer where it's the first time in their relationship that one of them is super sick and the other has to take care of them?? if you're feeling up for it ofc!! love u jade <333

ty for requesting<3<3 fem, 1k

“I’m sicker than a sick dog. I’m half cough.” 

Spencer frowns at his phone where it lays on speaker at the breakfast table. “You are? What kind of cough?” 

“It’s awful, I can’t tell you. You’ll stop loving me.” 

Spencer smiles even though he wants to grimace. He told you he loved you a few days ago, and you hadn’t said it back, but you certainly hadn’t stopped liking him. You’re more obsessed with him than before, he’d argue. It’s a great feeling, almost as good as an I love you in return would’ve been. 

(He doesn’t blame you for not saying it. You’ve been officially dating for less than a month. He shouldn’t have said it, only he’d been lying in your bed about to go to sleep with your hand in his and he’d never felt anything like it, not home but safe, not home but comfortable, and so so wanted.) 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer says.

“I’m gonna order some soup I think. What are you gonna do today?” Your voice is thick like you can’t breathe through your nose, but still yours.

“I’m gonna put my shoes on and come see you, I guess.” 

“Yeah?”

It’s a no brainier. “What soup do you want, Y/N?” 

He says your name like a compliment. You laugh down the line, which turns into a cough, and a pained moan. “Any kind of soup, babe. You’re really gonna come and see me?” 

“Someone has to take care of you. Ideally me.” 

“Too right.” 

When Spencer gets to your apartment thirty rushed minutes later, you’re already worse. He knocks on your door and you answer with a hand covering your face, your breath audibly shallow. “I forgot that being sick makes you ugly.” 

Spencer takes your wrist in his hand kindly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Come on, let me see.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I!” 

You aren’t pretty, you’re stunning. You’re gorgeous. You’ve been the most beautiful woman Spencer’s ever seen since the moment he saw you, not just because of your looks, of which you take great care, but because of your heart, how kind you’d been to him and continue to be. Your confident personality has never once made you cruel. He couldn’t say the same for most people, so you could have snot running down your lips and a zit the size of Quantico on your forehead and he’d still think you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Come on,” he says again, “I know you’re still beautiful.” 

You let him pull your hand down, unveiling your puffy eyes and chapped nose. “I don’t know how I got sick so fast.” 

The tote bag he’d brought with him slips into his elbow and pulls down his sweater sleeve as he grabs your shoulder. “You said you looked ugly.” 

“I do!” 

“All you do is lie.” He gives you a small smile. Am I doing this flirting thing right? 

“I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Your audible heartbreak is convincing. “I’ll still kiss you.” His desperation is even more evident than yours. “I’d love to kiss you.” Even if it’s usually you who kisses him. 

You close your eyes and lean in for a kiss at the same time. Just one kiss, firm for a millisecond, no parting lips or tongue to be seen but just as good a kiss as any other. Spencer must’ve had about thirty of them now, yet a kiss from you never feels real. 

“I’ll look after you if you get sick,” you promise, pulling away. 

He was counting on it. He hates germs, hates being sick, but he loves you. Whatever happens is out of his hands. 

You seem a little unsteady on your feet, now Spencer’s looking at you. You’re wearing loose white pyjamas with blue flowers, and on your feet you have a pair of shoes somewhere between slippers and boots, brown fabric with fluffy white insides he’s seen you sporting on the jet from time to time when you’re at your most achingly tired. 

You look adorable and tipping. He eases out of his shoes, sliding the bag of tinned soup, crackers and about seventy dollars worth of cold medicine onto the sideboard so he can put his hand under your arm. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping you in a supportive hug. 

“Forward,” you tease. 

You shouldn’t. Spencer thinks about intimacy with you and goes insanely pink everytime, though you’re far from new to one another. He especially doesn’t wanna think about it as you cross your room and flop down into bed with a tired sigh. “Come lay down?” 

“I’m wearing jeans.” 

“Did you sit down on the subway?” 

“No, I drove here.” 

“Come on, Spence. Your germs are fine.” You smile at the ceiling as he sits down at the top of your bed. “You drove here? You hate driving.” 

“It was quickest.” 

You drop your head into his lap. Your breathing is laboured. 

“You okay?” he asks you. 

“Just missed you.” 

“I brought you some stuff. Vapour rub and decongestant spray, painkillers, vitamins, everything.” He leans down as he wraps his arms over your front, a promise to look after you. “Try to take a deep breath, angel,” he advises sympathetically. “You sound really out of breath.” 

“Too much standing up.” 

“Standing up can be good for you when you’re sick. It stops you from getting idle diseases and bed sores, and walking is even better for you if you can manage it, it helps unclog your sinuses.” He finishes his fact, and he looks down at you all poorly in his lap, remembering very quickly how lucky he is to have found someone who listens. You didn’t interrupt. You wouldn’t have even thought about it, he’s sure. “But no more standing up or walking around. I’m gonna get you anything you need. You’ll be better in no time.” 

You give him your own grateful smile. “Thank you.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Are you gonna sneeze? I got balsam tissues.” The damage to your nose has already been done. “Do you have any chapstick? We’ll rub some on your nose to stop it from getting any drier.” 

Your wrinkled nose worsens. “Thank you for coming to look after me,” you say weakly. 

He wants to say you’re his best friend in the whole world, but you’re more than that now. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, ducking down to plant a kiss near your eyebrow. “I always want to look after you. This is just the first time you’ve let me.” 

You smile contentedly, your voice falling to a whisper. “Will you tell me you love me again?” 

Spencer doesn’t think he’s in any position to deny you. “I love you,” he says truthfully. “Thank you for letting me come over.” 

You turn your face into his arm. “Thank you for wanting to, handsome.” 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds

[gay-dorito-dust]

can I request batboys with an s/o who shows affection with biting?

it’s kinda stupid, but it could be cute, or they’re weirded out.

I don’t know, whatever you think ❤️

Idk why but I like the idea of Tim absolutely reading people to filth, this might just be me but I like it.

Dick would yelp when you first bit him on the neck, instinctively pressing a hand there and look at you with a pout.

‘I know I’m an absolute snack but I didn’t think I’d see the day where you’d try and take a bite out of me.’ He whined as he rubbed his neck, feeling exactly where you bit him from the teeth marks and wetness you left behind.

He loves it when you bite him but he can’t help in being dramatic when your bite marks are left in the most visible places where anybody could see them and speculate.

‘What if people ask if I like being bit?’ Dick would gasp, looking at the marks through the mirror, whimpering slightly when lightly grazing them. ‘What if they think I like being marked?’

‘Well you obviously do because not once had you stopped me once from biting you. Not once.’ You replied from your place on the bed, looking up from your phone to stare at him through the reflective surface. ‘If anything I think I heard you whimper a few times whenever I bite your neck.’ You add, smirking upon seeing Dick’s face grow flustered.

Dick wouldn’t admit it but he did like it when you bit him, probably more then he should, but he loved the fact that whenever you bit him you were only reassuring him that he was yours and you were his, albeit in your own unique way of affection.

Jason would bite you back purely out of retaliation but it’s mainly on your cheek or shoulders that he bites.

He lives for the little yelps you give when he does bite down on your shoulder lightly, smirking like the cheeky shit he could be at times.

He’ll proudly display the bite marks to anyone who was getting too comfortable with him for his own liking, by pulling down the collar of his shirt and showing off your bite marks across his collar bone and says with his whole chest ‘I’m taken.’

Once you both were lying on bed and were just about ready to fall asleep, but your eyes honed in on his bare upper body, more specifically his big tiddies. Jason -who had just put down his book after finishing a chapter- gave you a look and said ‘don’t you fucking dare-‘ but it was already too late as you opened your mouth and bite down on his left tiddy, staying there for a good deal of time.

Jason only sighs and pets your head, pressing a kiss there and whispers. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ To which you respond cheekily with. ‘Love me?’

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I can think of a few ways to do that.’ But before you could ask what he meant with that, he then proceeded to bite down your neck, causing you to squeak.

However when Jason bites you, it looks at though you’ve been bites by a fucking vampire, mainly because he’s got four distinctly sharp dentures and you had developed somewhat a love/hate relationship with it, much to Jason’s amusement.

‘Hey! You do it to me so why shouldn’t I do it to you?’ He’d say with his hands raised but a smile on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes. He loves it more than he lets on, he just likes to meet you on equal footing.

He calls you his little piranha.

Tim would look at you as if to say ‘are you done?’

He’s perpetually tired from everything, so you biting him to show affection doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

You could bite his bicep and he’d be like ‘love you too you menace.’ Before taking a sip from his mug as he went about the rest of his day, uncaring of the bite mark already forming on his bicep.

However whenever Tim feels as though he’s missing you, he’d just brush his fingers over the bite mark and remind himself that you were waiting for him to come back…and probably bite him as a way to show him that you missed him also, but he really didn’t mind.

If anything his only request is that you don’t bite him anywhere his brothers could see them, they’ve already teased him enough about being with you that seeing a single bite mark would send them into utter insanity. They’d would never him live it down and would forever tease him into hell and back for it, especially Damian and Jason.

Even if you did accidentally leave a bite mark on a viable part of him and someone teases him for it, all he has for do is look them in the eye and say ‘at least I got someone who makes me really happy, and who isn’t afraid of showing me that they love me just as equally without feeling ashamed.’ He stops and looks them over with a look. ‘Which is more than I can say for you, the only real relationship you have is with a box of tissues, lube and a shitty computer system that’s on the verge of collapse.’ He adds before stalking off, leaving the person to wonder how Tim knew about the shitty computer, a shitty computer that was currently being held together by duck tape of all things.

All in all, Tim doesn’t mind you biting him in a display of affection, just don’t do so in areas where his family will take notice of and start asking really uncomfortable questions…

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #Tim drake imagine #Tim drake imagines #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood imagines

[midnightorchids]

Hello I'm literally obsessed with how you write jason todd and how you invision him I binged your jason todd list and it's so good. I was wondering if you could write one where he has like a bubbly golden retriever girl who is obsessed with him and would leave any conversation to just go to him

First of all, you’re a literal sweetheart omg! Thank you so much for reading, I’m so glad you like my work! And second, I am so so so sorry for how late this is!!

This idea is so cute, Jason totally deserves a cute and bubbly gf!! This is a little bit long, but I hope you like it!!

Jason had once again invited you to another one of Bruce’s galas as his date. Formal events were never your scene, but you couldn’t say no to Jason, especially when he’d ask so politely.

He’d stare at your face lovingly with his big doe eyes. His calloused hands would cup your face gently as his thumbs delicately grazed your cheeks. His bitten lips would turn into a small smile and you couldn’t bear to say no to his pretty face. That’s how the story always went, he’d stare at you innocently and you’d always agree to attend.

Jason hated attending galas, but he hated going to them alone even more. Hence why he brought you, he wanted you there for moral support. 

He always tried his best to be gentleman when it came to these types of events. His eyes never leaving you for a second.

A few years ago he made up a code for when you’d attend formal events together. You still remember the look he gave you when he explained the “rules.”

His gaze was gentle and his hands were laced with your own. He spoke in a soft, hushed voice, “okay pretty girl, listen up. One squeeze, means you’re done with the conversation. Two is for when you’re ready to leave. Got it?”

You almost never had to use the code though, somehow Jason always knew when it was time to head out.

Galas and formal events were always so consuming, exhausting almost. The politics and business were far too confusing. You never found yourself wanting to engage with most people as it felt awkward to initiate conversations sometimes.

You’d spent most of the evening stuck to Jason’s side with his hands firmly on your waist or tangled between your fingers. 

However, despite your views of the galas, you were a star. Men and women alike frolicked around you, like bees to a flower. You were always a source of wonderment— polite, kind and beautiful. 

You always greeted everyone with a soft, welcoming smile. You were bubbly and made an effort to look engaged in conversations when people approached you. Whenever you’d do this, Jason couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t your element, but here you were immersing yourself into these empty conversations for him. 

This particular gala felt similar to most of Bruce’s events. Noisey chatter and expensive gowns engulfing the room.

You were starting to feel tired and Jason was starting to feel antsy too. But he was cornered by three men in matching black suits and it was too awkward to leave. You and Jason rarely got separated at such places, but it had seemed to be just one of those nights. You took a seat at the nearest table, as the pair of stilettos on your feet were starting to cause an uncomfortable ache.

You stared into the crowd, a smile small on your face when you’d accidentally make eye contact with someone. You were in your own head, paying no mind to your surroundings when a tall man walked over to you. 

“May I sit here,” he said, pointing to the seat next to you. You nodded your head with a polite smile. 

Minutes go by and you notice the man trying to gather the courage to speak to you, but it seemed that every time he tried, he got nervous. You tried to ignore his behaviour and found yourself looking around the room for Jason. He still seemed to be preoccupied with the men.

Jason’s jade eyes met your gaze from across the room and his stern expression slowly morphed into a small smirk, making the scar near his lip more pronounced. 

He nodded along with the men, but his attention was on you. He stood up taller, trying to fix his posture. He ran a hand through his styled hair, making it just the right amount of messy. He looked good in his navy suit and your eyes raked his body. He looked pretty today and he knew it too.

A voice brings you back to reality and you look over into the direction of the sound. It was the man from earlier. 

“Pardon,” you asked softly and the man smiled. 

“Oh, I was just saying that it’s quite lively here tonight,” he said fixing his tie anxiously.

“It really is, it’s very loud tonight” you kept your answer short. The man looks up at you, his eyes fixed on your lips. 

“So I was wondering-” the man’s words don’t seem to register, you’re too busy looking at Jason. He was done with his conversation and was making his way over to you. You quickly get up in excitement.

The man still seemed to be talking and you find yourself interrupting him. 

“I’m so sorry but my boyfriend-” and Jason pulls you in by the waist, paying no attention to the man. 

“Hey pretty girl, I’m sorry I took so long,” he says. His voice low and sympathetic. You grin in response, happy to see your boyfriend again.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “let’s go home Jay. I’m so tired and my feet hurt,” you confess, pouting. 

Jason smiles gently. You look beautiful to him. He takes a strand of your hair and tucks it behind your ear and you can feel your face getting hot. Even after years of being together, Jason still had this effect on you. 

“Let’s go, want me to carry you,” Jason giggles and you smack his chest playfully. 

“I’m fine, let’s just leave,” he intertwines your fingers in his and leads you out the door. 

The man’s face looks stunned, he didn’t expect you to run off with your boyfriend mid conversation. 

#fem!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

[leaderwonim]

unconditional love. ✧ park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: bittersweet fluff, coming of age angst

you liked park sunghoon, you truly did. he was kind, intelligent, and had that soft introverted persona on the outside.

when you got to know him, he became the most funny and loudest person to ever exist, which had your heart doing backflips.

it wasn’t him that was the issue. it was you. you always had commitment issues, never being able to settle down because of your past pulling you behind. i mean—how could anyone ever like you? you felt as thought you were too loud, too annoying, too irritable, just too much.

despite your brain constantly bringing you down, park sunghoon loved you. he loved every single piece of you, the way you’d blow your perfect hair out of your face as you concentrated on the textbook in front of you, the way your eyebrows would furrow when you didn’t quite catch a question or answer, the way you’d prop your head onto your knees as a way to comfort yourself.

god, park sunghoon swore you were the one. he didn’t care that his friends warned him about your earned title of being a ghoster when it came to relationships, he didn’t care that it felt like he was constantly putting in more effort than you.

as long as he’s got you, he doesn’t care. so how did the two of you end up in this situation?

“i don’t get it,” sunghoon frowns, “what did i do wrong?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say exasperatedly, “in fact, you were perfect sunghoon. you were everything i wanted and more—it’s just me.”

park sunghoon hated the classic it’s me not you excuse when it came to situations like these. but because it’s you, he lets it slide, even though he already feels the tears coming.

“i don’t want to hurt you any longer, hoonie. you have to understand i’m ending this because i care about you too much to put you through hell.”

sunghoon solemnly nods, knowing whatever he’ll say won’t change anything, that it’s already too late and you’ve already made up your mind.

it’s cruel, he thinks. life. how it could be so depressing and meekly all at once.

it wasn’t until a year later that sunghoon and you crossed paths again. you two were now sophomores in college, and had even attended the same university.

you had gotten a boyfriend, finally deciding to settle down after maturing and realizing how much of a piece of shit you were to all the boys at your high school.

his name was heeseung and he had treated you like a princess, reminding you of how sunghoon used to treat you back in senior year.

now here you were, sitting on one of the university steps with your head hung low. your parents had given you the call about them divorcing, right in the middle of your sophomore year. you were miles away, and was heartbroken knowing your family was splitting in two without you being there physically to support them.

“hey, you okay?”

you knew that voice better than anyone.

“hoon?” you sniffle. “i’m sorry—why am i even calling you that.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you, patting your back as he takes a seat. “what’s wrong?”

“parents are getting divorce,” you scoff. “guess thats karma for all the things i put you through.”

“don’t say that.” sunghoon gently wipes away your tears, frowning when he sees more appear.

“you shouldn’t even be comforting me, i treated you like shit sunghoon, i got a new boyfriend right after i said i couldn’t settle down with you.”

“who cares?” sunghoon says, and for the first time, you don’t see the romantic love he used to have in his eyes for you. “we’re young! of course you’re going to find other people.”

you’re in awe at the maturity sunghoon is displaying. you knew it took a lot of courage for him to do so.

“why are you being so nice, sunghoon?”

“the world is already cruel, yn.” sunghoon sighs. “so therefore, i won’t be.”

and although his words won’t stop the divorce of your parents or the sadness filling your chest, it makes you feel a tad bit lighter, knowing that you had someone like park sunghoon in your life.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen texts #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft hours #enhypen ff #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon fanfic

[f0point5]

Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏

Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.

Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.

And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.

No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.

“Hey,”

You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.

“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.

You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“She races, right?”

You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”

“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”

You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.

“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.

“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”

You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.

It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.

Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.

Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.

“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.

Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.

“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”

Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.

“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”

You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?

“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”

What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.

You just shrug.

“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”

You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.

She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.

All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.

“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”

“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.

“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.

Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”

“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”

“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”

You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.

And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”

You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.

“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”

You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.

“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.

You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.

He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.

How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?

“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”

Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”

“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”

“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”

“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”

“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“

“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“

“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”

“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.

“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”

“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”

Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”

The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.

“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”

“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”

He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”

Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”

He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.

“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”

“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”

“You don’t have to-“

“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”

#max verstappen x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a crosshair x reader where they have a lazy morning maybe with batcher too.

Lazy Morning

Summary: You decide to sleep in on your day off. It leads to a very relaxing day with the love of your life.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1087

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I started writing this ages ago and then put it on pause, before continuing it today and I have no idea where I was originally going with the story, so I'm sorry if the vibes changes midstory. The only problem now is that I want to lounge by the pool. Alas, there is no pool.

It’s early, though not so early that the sun isn’t high in the sky, and you groan in annoyance when the bright morning sun hits your face, waking you from your very nice sleep.

Wait.

You’re fairly certain that you shut the curtain before you fell asleep last night.

You crack open a singular eye just as something large and heavy lands on the bed, and then you yelp as the solid mass of muscle flops next to you. “Batcher-?”

The lurca hound releases a happy little noise and buries her head under your pillows and blankets. 

You groan and roll onto your back, flinging your arm over your eyes, “Crosshair? Why is your dog in my bed?”

“I’m fairly certain it’s our bed, angel.” Crosshair replies from somewhere on the other side of the room, near the door. He’s probably the one who opened the curtain too.

“You don’t live here, leech.” You counter without any heat in your voice.

“Rude, and I went through all of the trouble of making caf and breakfast for you. But, since you aren’t interested-”

“I hate you. What did you make?” You ask as you slowly sit up and squint at the man leaning against the door frame, “And how’d you get in anyway?”

“I made a quiche-” You shoot him a look, and he rolls his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of following instructions from a recipe.”

“Yeah, but normally people start with, like, pancakes. They don’t tend to jump to quiches.” You reply as you swing your legs off the bed and stretch your arms over your head, “And you didn’t answer how you got in the house.”

“I picked the lock.”

“Cross!”

“Hey, you don’t want me to pick the lock, then give me a key.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had a copy made yet. I’m working on it.” You pad over to him, yawning widely, and then you thump your head against his chest, “Why’re you and Batcher over here anyway.”

“My brothers are annoying.” Crosshair replies as he sets his hand between your shoulder blades, “I needed some quiet.”

“Mm,” You slide your arms around his waist, “And you decided to make breakfast for me while enjoying the quiet?”

You feel him shrug, “You deserve to be spoiled. Maybe.” He says, his hand sliding up to rest lightly at the back of your neck. 

“Maybe?” You ask with a laugh.

“I do have a reputation, kitten.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” You rub your nose against his chest, allowing the sharp scent of Crosshair to fill your lungs, and then you pull back slightly, “Thank you for making breakfast, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” He lightly rubs the back of your neck with his thumb, a small, slightly crooked, smile on his lips. “It still needs to cook for a bit, so you have time enough to shower and wake up.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Yeah, I might do that.” You lean in to brush your lips against his jaw, only to giggle as he ducks his head to kiss you properly. You lightly trail your fingers against his jawline, “Good morning, Crosshair.”

“Mm, it is a good morning now,” He murmurs, before he drops one more kiss against your lips, “Go take your shower, I’m going back to the kitchen. Batcher, off!” The dog whines but jumps off your bed, dragging your comforter with her.

You sigh, and Crosshair chuckles, “I’ll handle it, kitten. I’m planning on spending the day lounging by your pool, so maybe grab a swimsuit.”

“You just want to watch me parade around for you in a bikini.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You huff, though there’s no heat, and you lightly kiss him one more time before you meander over to your dresser to dig out your swimsuit, “Why do you want to use the pool when we live on an island?”

“Uh, there are people at the beach, and there aren’t people here. Besides, you’re the one who owns a pool in spite of living on a tropical island.”

You scowl at him as you pull out your bathing suit, “I didn’t build the pool, the house came with it.”

“You still bought it.”

“Inherited it.”

“Same difference.” He walks over to you and tugs your bikini out of your hands, before pulling a different one out of your dresser, “Wear this one.”

“...this is white.”

“I know what I’m about, kitten.”

“You’re such a man sometimes,” You take the bikini though and turn towards the bathroom, “I’ll be down shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Fifteen minutes later, you step into the kitchen, clad in the white bikini and a sarong hung low around your hips. Crosshair offers you an appreciative whistle, before he tosses a ball out the back door for Batcher to chase.

“Prettier than a sunset,” He praises, a small smirk on his lips.

“Only because I’m wearing this thing,” You counter as you walk over to him and lightly pluck his toothpick out of his mouth.

“You could take it off, I won’t complain.” He drawls with an appreciative drag of his eyes down your body.

You point at him with his toothpick, “Pervert.”

“Guilty as charged.” He pushes your hand away and stands so he’s able to catch your lips in a kiss, “I opened the umbrella and put your breakfast on the table outside already. I also put out towels for us, as well as the sunblock.”

“Well, you have everything in hand, don’t you?”

“All that’s left to finish the perfect morning, is you sprawled out in the sun.” Crosshair replies.

You laugh softly, “Well then, who am I to deny you?” His arms snake around your waist and he tugs at the knot holding the sarong in place.

“You’re not going to need this, kitten. It’ll just get dirty.”

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with wanting to see my legs.”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.” You slide your hands up his chest and then wrap your arms around his neck, “It’s a good thing that I actually like your attention.”

“Oh, how much do you like my attention?” Crosshair asks as he bumps his forehead against yours.

“Enough that I’m considering inviting you to spend the night.”

He chuckles, “Well then, I’d better behave so you don’t change your mind.”

And you laugh one more time, before you pull him down into a kiss, leaning your weight against him. He’s right about one thing, this is definitely the perfect morning.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[lixielovess]

"and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

hyunjin x fem!chubby!reader

warnings: reader is insecure about her body, implied ED, swearing

genre: angst, fluff

hyunjin was a childhood friend of yours, you always hung out with him and you enjoyed being around him. but you were always considered the 'ugly' friend by your other friends, sometimes your family and you yourself agreed sometimes.. ofcourse he never did, he thought you were absolutely beautiful, tough he never said it.

when you were in junior high school, you could never be friends with anyone without someone shipping you two, but with you.. everyone always considered it as a joke. like you were a joke, people kept teasing hyunjin about liking you and he always denied it, and you believed him. he was never harsh about it he was genuinely nice, he was always polite with it but it always seemed to hurt you. you loved him, and deep down he knew he liked you aswell.

he was the handsome popular guy and you were just another one of his fangirls who just happened to be one of his friends. though you did have girl friends alot of girls seemed to hate you because you were friends with hyunjin, saying that you only hung out with him to distract yourself from how fugly you actually are. and honestly you thought the same, it was to the point you starved yourself and had to go to the hospital because you didn't eat the normal amount of food a healthy person should eat for about a month, but despite not eating almost anything at all you still looked like that.

and suddenly when you were in highschool in senior year when in the schools garden, he stood infront of you, bouquet in hand looking straight into your eyes "y/n y/l/n i-... i loved you.. i always have.. so please-" you cut him off. "is this some sort of joke..?" he froze up, confused, time seemed to stop as he just stared at you completely confused "what?"

"did one of your friends force you to do this? did you lose a bet? do you think its funny 'confessing' to the ugly chubby girl?" you we're used to it, guys confessing to you, going out with you because it was a dare or a jokey joke. but its happened to you over and over again for too many times to the point where you couldn't tell the difference between that and the real thing... and when someone actually had feelings, that someone being hyunjin, you turned him down because you didn't trust anyone that said they liked you, either way if it was true or not.

"Y/n-" "save it." angry tears welled up in your eyes as he just stared at you in disbelief "listen! please- im not joking! i genuinely do-" you grit your teeth, holding in your tears as you try not to break down sobbing "i thought you were my friend, hyunjin."

"i am! and i want us to be more than that-"

"Liar! you don't like me, i know you don't. you denied it since we were 10 and even until now you still do. feelings don't change overnight. i cant believe i thought you were my friend, never talk to me again you piece of shit" you ran off into somewhere, you dont know where you just walked. a few hours later you somehow arrived home, you waltzed into your room and just locked yourself in there.

days go by and you return to school completely ignoring him, everytime he came to talk to you, you just brushed him off like he was nothing.

your friends still hung out with him, and they brought you along when they hung out with him, but what else could you do? not hang out with your friends who've known you for years..? no. eventually you forgave him and tolerated him, and started hanging out with eachother more and more.

it wasn't until recently when you guys were alone, he took your hand and looked straight into your eyes when he confessed, again. "i.. i just wanted you to know that it wasnt a joke, i genuinely did love you back then and i didn't care about how you looked you were absolutely beautiful regardless. and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #skz x you #writing

[vsaintsin]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due July '24, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

#booklr #lgbt fiction #writeblr #writeblr intro #authors

[alexa-nowak]

One of my old texts from YouTube arguments about Astarion endings

I am not that invested in this discourse nowadays because I lost hope to change anyone's opinion and also, I am simply tired from dealing with toxic bs that I am getting as a response to some of my old comments on YT to this day. My favourites are those who will reply to my every comment to say how delulu I am and I probably just dreaming about being in a toxic relationships myself, while being unable to understand that people have their own ways to heal through art and that throwing poison on people like that is not helpful at all.

I will leave it there and funny enough, I am not even so much of AA fan, I just don't like people being ignorant and rude.

And I like writing essays, so here it is.

So, what this dark romance fantasy is about for me personally,(even though i prefer spawn romance, i absolutely understand the appeal of asc Astarion because honestly, i was all about this kind of romance during my childhood and teenage years, hardocore the Phantom of the Opera girl is here, inside your head 💀), and why it's also healing route for some players,and no, it's not about kinky vampiric banging.

1)A lot of people feel extremely worthless and insecure, lonely, like no one really cares for them at all. It's a very deep wound that hurts and it's difficult to overcome even in perfectly loving, healthy and supportive relationship with a good partner,and even with therapy. So fantasy about a vampire, being obsessed with you so much that he is ready to do absolutely anything just to be with you for forever is really comforting. Also,you don't have to think too much about your imperfections, because for him you like a center of his vampire heart.

Besides, you sympathise with him - it's like a selfcomfort mirror, i love this monster despite everything, so in a way, i accept myself despite any flaws i see in me.

2) Safety. When the world around you feel like a wilderness, full of monsters, it feels like only the most terrifying loving monster can protect you from it. He is powerful and protective, and i am so precious to him, that he will set the world on fire just so i would be safe.

3) Responsibility. As you may see, this kind of relationship have daddy issues vibes and codependency, and in real life, you can't just fully submit safely to anyone, I don't think i have to explain why it's a dangerous idea to seek this kind of relationships in real life. You have to stay a grown up independent person and seek safety for yourself without expecting someone to come and heal all your wounds. But this is fantasy, so finally you can use this as a comfort fantasy with no fear about being taking advantage of, without shame to be called childish and etc.

4) Independence. Spawn ending is very terrifying for anyone who has issues with feeling safe and independent, because some of us prefer violent power fantasies over "we have each other and that's all that matters", second of all, this ending also has some shady co-dependency undertone to it that can be triggering for some people. I love Spawn Astarion a little bit more more than Asc and yet my heart stayed absolutely broken after running away from the sun scene, and i hate that he is so dependent on Tav. Larian owes me some emotional refund after this.

5)SA trauma: it wasn't even seen as a possibility for healing way by writer, but it is for some.Asc Astarion feels like he is the most powerful creature in the world,and he is fully controlling everything that happens between him and Tav,so finally, it's a kind of situation where there is no chance of him being abused again. It's one of the reasons why some people become Doms in BDSM dynamic relationships: finally, full control of the process and a partner, who trusts then enough to fully submit, trust issues is also big deal in Astarion story of healing. I find idea that that only Subs can enjoy Asc Astarion a little bit naive. Because,well, some news for you: Doms like it too because they understand why he is so eager to be a top :D

Unrealistic, not the healthiest way? Probably! But this man and this love is not real anyway.

Yes, i think many of us, especially folks who went through therapy and a lot of self reflecting are already aware that it's basically romanticized version of narcissistic obsession and in real life this is creepy, but it's not real, it's a fantasy. People use BDSM to heal, romance books and all other forms of art to deal with their inner demons and it's absolutely normal. Even if someone is blind to see what is wrong with Asc Astarion, I highly doubt that toxic bucket of shame and aggression are able to help see anyone problematic side of things. Do you know who is usually up to romanticize toxic dynamic in romance? Victims of abuse. In real life, if you just scream and yell at any poor girl/boy/whatever about how stupid they are for believing that their abusive partner really loves them, people will either break down and cry or tell you to f#ck off and they will have every right to do so, but they won't see what's wrong with their partner,in whom quite often victims of abuse see their only source of love and safety in life.

Hells, I am so sick and tired from this "white cloak knight saviour from cycle of abuse" toxic flood in this fandom. If you really want to educate people - do it with extreme care and compassion. Real life healing is not working like it's with Astarion in the game,few right dialogs and boom, dude is on the right path.

It takes enormous amount of patience and love, be kind to one another, and stay safe, darlings. Being toxic on Asc fans you are not helping anyone, you just hitting your superiority complex button in your ass.

#astarion #ascended astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 discourse #also I passionately hate modern fandom culture and politics around liking the bad guy #and surface level twitter psychology that is so popular right now #Spotify #fandom discourse

[welcometoteyvat]

jing yuan and yanqing are giving zhongli and xiao if the latter’s canon relationship was Actually fanon’s made up father figure/adopted child dynamic

#idkkkkkkkkkkkkk who looks at zx and is like 'you know what. this is a healthy parent child relationship' #like girl by fitting them into father son boxes you are actively making their relationship imbalance Worse #if you do that and dont shy away from it i respect that but if you say dad/son makes their relationship more wholesome or whatever like WHY #now i wont deny shippers might do that too but i see the dad son version so much i think im just averse to it by default #also because i think father son makes people actively Try to make their relationship something that its not and it erases a bunch of subtlet #subtleties in it. it's the nuanced r/ship -> entirely unproblematic and flavorless r/ship that i hate #also the number of people who'll block if you ship zx. like damn thats crazy you guys really think theyre father son (fake)??? #at their peak they're like. 4000 year old guys who have too much history and repression and some weird entanglement of 'nah im bothering him #too much' and 'gotta protect him w my life' complexes. and then this devolves into theyre never gonna kiss until 3000 more years have passed #listen they just Contain Multitudes idc if you dont ship it just dont make it into dad and son and we will be so gucci #jing.yuan and yanqing are like different i think mostly bc yanqing is actually like a minor and jing yuan is also a normal ish person #plus the light cone and the abouts?? yeah this is an actual like adopted parent/child thing #also good or bad news i caved and am now playing hsr. the plan is to pull yanqing and then go on infinite hiatus in the game 👍 #JWKFLJWEK i dont think theres really any draws for me besides him. personally neutral on turn based combat and the open world isn't giving #the only saving grace i have rn is 1) ive gotten to the part where bron.seele is real and man theyre gay 2) trailblazer trio 3) tall female #mc 4) everyone has way better emoting abilities than genshin 5) su.shang's really cute <3 #the story doesnt really interest me though its like cool but not mindgrippingly interesting #tbf i think genshin is the same way storyline wise (at the beginning) but the difference is that turn based combat isnt really my thing LMAO #ramblings! #zhongxiao #if you want to filter it out ??

[kkujo]

something i don't see people talking about is the way hyperfixations come in like stages and cycles like it's not just "i'm obsessed with this thing" it's like. euphoria from finding something new and it brings you so much joy and then as that initial dopamine rush wears off you start to get more and more down and feel isolated as you start to realise that no one else cares about it as much as you do and you feel silly for being so into it and the thoughts become repetitive and boring so you get more and more depressed and lonely and then you inevitably lose the hyperfix which leaves you drifting feeling miserable and hopeless until you start the cycle again. idk if i explained this well or if other people will understand but it brings genuine phases of euphoria and straight up depression and this is why i get annoyed when neurotypicals use words like hyperfixation to describe like, an interest. bc it's not. just an interest it becomes who you are and when you lose it it's like losing yourself and you spend so much energy thinking about it that it interrupts your daily life and it's so fucking draining 👍

#like if i see one more nt being like hyperfixation this hyperfixation that SHUT UP!! YOU HAVE AN INTEREST #talk to me when you stay up until 6am every night bc you can't fucking sleep bc ur thinking about it. #talk to me when you can't process emotions in a normal healthy way because you can only relate it back to your hyperfix #paired w madd especially it's IMPOSSIBLE to be normal about shit i swear 2 god because the second i'm upset or lonely it's straight back to #immersing myself in another world and being someone else and not facing my emotions instead letting 'someone else' deal with them #not just negative emotions yk it's anything it's fully immersive to the point i end up not knowing exactly who i am myself bc i'm rarely #myself in my head yk #and it's so isolating #and this is why i get mad when people use these terms lightly bc they don't fucking get it #oh you're hyperfixated? oh you're delusional? you're delulu? watch this #< guy who has delusions that all of his friends secretly hate him bc he's too insane abt xyz media and who feels alone bc no one else is as #into it even though it wouldn't be reasonable to expect them to be #like i'm constantly questioning whether all my friends are secretly against me & finding me annoying anytime i talk about it but it's fine #it's so fucking isolating #i'm not losing my hyperfix yet thank god but i am in the stage of like realisation where the initial euphoria has worn off and i'm like #fuck no one else gets it. no one else is thinking about it like i am. and it's so lonely #< like not to sound like 'i'm 14 and no one gets me' or i'm not like other girls or whatever 😭 #it's not me being dramatic i genuinely. know that no one else is spending every waking moment thinking about the things i am the way i do #and it's so incredibly depressing i can't even explain it in a way that will make sense #because i want to talk about it so fucking bad and i can't. even to my friends and gf who always listen i end up feeling annoying #and then i get genuinely delusional not like tiktok girl voice delulu like i genuinely start questioning my entire reality #just if i talk about something a little too much #bc i'm convinced i'm fucking annoying and no one gets it and they're thinking bad things about me #but i know they wouldn't. but it feels like they are #idk #anyways !

[the-nightmare-theater]

me if i see one (1) more person severely mischaracterize bedman

#this is about the people calling him a misogynist. #im This fucking close to making a post detailing why he isnt one #im so mad like. honestly im a bit embarrassed by how mad i am lmao #like yes!!!!!! hes a bad person!!!!!! hes bad in different ways though #calling him a misogynist genuinely is just flat out misinfo #uggghhhhhh i meant to be asleep by now but ive spent the past 30 mins being mad at people on the internet #over whats probably bait #but UGGGH just the thought of someone believing that makes me just wanna fucking strangle someone #ignore me im just venting my frustration with this whole thing #nightmare ramble #vent #honestly i wouldnt even call him a fundashi i dont have that hc for him but calling him a misogynist is flat out wrong but could actually- #-be mistaken as the truth #by people who dont know the character well #he!!!!!! literally hates everyone besides his sister!!!!!!!!! #he hates women And men!!!!!!!!!!! #and nb people too although we havent seen him interact with a nb person in canon so the jurys still out on that ig #literally fucking says in his character bio that he doesnt care for age or gender #please learn how to fucking read ffs #anyways im gonna try to sleep now thats off my chest #edit: the term wasnt fundashi it was himejoshi #i mixed them up in my defense its 8am

[vzajemnik]

thom yorke i love youuuuuuuuuuu

#🗞️ #ig music at 2 am just hits different huh. but also its been so long sinc ei litened to anything intentionally #aka a week. and yeah i was losing it #IF I COULD BEEEEEE WHO YOU WANTED IF I COULD BEEEEEEE WHO YOU WANTEDDDD........ #myyyyyy gooooooddddddddddd #i love radiohead so bad man. #every time i think abt or see thom yorke though i think abt my ex bc he truly hated radiohed and most importantly him of all people?!?!?!?!? #like fucking despised him????????was so passionate about it too. like ok. and used to make fun of his looks. like what tf is your problem. #sorry whatever its been years since i broke up with him but it still haunts me every time i listen to radiohead.... #like you dont like thom yorke???????????ok. maybe youre the creep youre the weirdo #sorry now cas started playing feeling wery blissed out

[ruelpsen]

I regret to inform you that my fave is getting bodied again in another poll

#too many fake old man enjoyers on this site #COME ON NOW HE HAS SIX ~PREHENSILE~ TENTACLE DICKS! SIX!!!!!! #people are being mean in the notes though like come on what has he ever done to you #do you not know cuntenserven when you see it #sure yes he does bad things in canon and i am not an apologist #and if he were a real person i would hate him so gd much for some of the shit he does #however he is not real so what about it #some people just want to dream about having a passionate six-tentadicked bisexual alien lover and lordy am i one of them #i might. *might.* rb the poll itself later but without tags because i've had experiences with normies being stupid in my inbox- #- after rbing normie-ish posts in the past #even a number of people who claim to be sex-positive turn awful the second it's clear your tastes aren't bland vanilla stuff #if you've read this far thanks for hearing out my ramblings #despite my better judgement i am so deeply in love with this foolish man #londarling #not sfw

[the-blue-sandglass]

You know folks-

Condemning Ben's behaviour, particularly towards Charlie, and not seeing his personal issues as an excuse to literally ab//e and attempt s/a on his partner while ALSO wanting him to get better as a person and accept himself (including his sexuality) in a healthy way aren't mutually exclusive, and probably shouldn't be treated as mutually exclusive-

In the same vein-

You can fully hope that Ben was trying to be sincere and that he'll be a better person one day while ALSO acknowledging that Charlie does not owe him anything, is not obligated to forgive him and is not responsible for his absolution-

#tw: mention of sa #tw: mention of abuse #heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper #ben hope #is this because i've seen some RIDICULOUS hot takes about ben since s2 came out?? #yes #yes it is #but like #seriously #you can sympathise with him struggling to accept himself while also acknowledging that it does NOT excuse him ab//ing his partners #especially charlie #but imogen too #remember he's just as much of an ass to her #and that's a relationship he would supposedly be comfortable being open about #you can hate all of that and still feel sad when he doesn't take that step on that rainbow tide #because i am certain that he'd be a happier healthier person if he did that #the mental gymnastics some people pull off to defend ben though while ignoring a good majority of the rest of the casts' portrayal is absur #especially at charlie's expense #like i've seen people try to say charlie not forgiving him is unfair to people who relate to ben #but what about people who relate to charlie?? #specifically those who were ab//ed?? #how would it be fair to them to tell them they're obligated to forgive the people who hurt them?? solely for the absolution of the ab//er