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annwrites · 1 day

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exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. ��I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x reader

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magpod-confessions · 11 hours

Note

@ doorkeay-disliker anon

You do know that most doorkeay shippers were shipping it before knowing anything about the age gap? And that these are two consenting adults in at least their 30s? And that after that information showed up, Jonny came out saying he fucked up the timeline like an idiot? That he fucked it up many times? Nobody in that group of people wants that age gap, and shipped them before knowing of said age gap. The general timeline of TMA has so many mistakes, and so many Michaels. The Michael that worked with Eric could've been a different one, or he could know about Michael because Mary told him after binding him to the book to make him feel bad.

If you don't like. A ship, that's fucking fine. It's not your thing. Nobody's telling you that you have you like it. But you need to get over yourself with this whole righteous bullshit. If you actually read what people write for doorkeay, you'd notice they're always making them healthily consenting adults.

Moreso. I've never seen a doorkeay shipper harass anyone, or cause any fights. But people who claim "doorkeay has a problematic age gap!" even led harassment campaigns and told artists and writers to off themselves repeatedly for weeks on end for shipping it, when said artists and writers made it explicitly clear that they had always seen the ship as being about 2 to 3 years different maximum.

I hate when people come after ships between fucking grown adults. Why are you so fucking obsessed with it?

Care when they're shipping a minor with an adult.

Gerard Keay is not a child, he's in his 30s, and before we got his birthyear from Protocol, he could've been born anywhere in the 80s. Including 1980. No matter how much you whine, he's in his 30s. That's an adult worldwide as far as I'm aware in this dimension, bucko.

If we didn't get the exact year, he could've even been 43 at the oldest today (1980 to 2023). Doorkeay shippers have been under this understanding since forever (timeline's fucked. Play with it). And they almost always picture Michael as being close in age. Hell, I know someone who made a whole timeline trying to catch all the options that the mistakes cause and found that there's a chance Michael could've been a year younger than Gerry (before getting the set year from Protocol. That timeline was made over 2 years ago)

And the few times there's been a larger age gap, the authors/artist always make sure to clarify:

THESE ARE TWO CONSENTING ADULTS, NOT TAKING ADVANTAGE OF EACH OTHER, AND CAPABLE OF LEAVING THE RELATIONSHIP IF THEY NEED TO.

Smh. G/d forbid girls like anything

#anon im very tired but im nodding in agreement #i dont ship doorkeay much personally but ppl who claim its problematic due to an age gap are so weird to me #2 consenting adults. no canon ages. weird ass timeline. chill #idk if its not your cup of tea all good #you dont need a reason to dislike smth outside just disliking it you dont need to try claim smths problematic #and everyone who engages in it is also problematic to dislike it #idk i think some ppl need to learn that #magpod #the magnus archives #tma #gerry keay #gerard keay #michael distortion #doorkeay #magpod confession

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onismdaydream · 2 days

Note

HIIII!!!!! it's me again, the most obsessed and horniest yuji lover!♡🎀

Didn't have anything to do today so I have been on tumbler looking for any yuji content I can get my hands on :p! And I am just OBSESSED with headcanons, specifically yuji as your boyfriend! AHH!!!

Like, how would he first tell you he likes you? How long would it take? Ugh, now me personally, I can only imagine having a movie night alone, megumi and nobara canceled ofc because they don't want to watch whatever bs movie yuji picks :(. And then so there you are, Both cuddled up on the couch, a little to close together, and he is just.. so flustered! But why? It's not like he likes you or anything! Well, turns out he does and he JUST realized. So when the two protagonists in the romantic comedy yall are watching suddenly confess, he can't hold it back! It just blurts out of his mouth..which would be a bad thing, until you reveal you like him back!♡

Idk, I just find it soo cute, and honestly totally something he would do. 🤷‍♀️. But then like, first date? Would he take you to eat, the movies, or maybe to the mall?

Now this one, I'm not too sure, to many options and I love them all, but he would DEFINITELY make it romantic and cute ><!

Okay, but now like one of the MILLION dollar questions is.... how would he act on your period!

I'm sorry, but every single small headcanon, or fic of how ANYBODY would treat you while ur on your period is straight up Crack to me. I NEED IT. I love the wholesome headcanons. 😔🎀!

I think.. he would notice that your acting different, he cares about you after all so he notices every little thing. So when he sees you look uncomfy or maybe rubbing you hand on your thigh, trying to relieve some pain.. he asks you what's wrong! And when you tell him, I feel like he would IMMEDIATELY do whatever you want to make you feel better. LITERALLY.

"Oh. Really? Is there anything I can do?"

Chocolate? In ur hands the second you ask. Meds for the pain, he's got them? Blanket? YES! cuddles? Okay, is that even a question? OBVI!!!

Second million dollar question is how/what he would do yalls first time. Last headcanon i said was crack, but this one is like all drugs COMBINED. I like to think it would be a makeout session gone to far..

That movie you played has a sex scene, which, really doesn't bother you or him.. or it usually doesn't. Today though, a small thought forms in his brain. How would you look? Sound? Smell? Taste? Feel..? And then it's akward, because you're so close, and his hand just starts massaging your thigh, and he has to kiss you! Which at this point in the relationship isn't like super surprising, I'm sure yuji loves to kiss you. But this one feels different, yujis face is just soo pink, and he almost can't keep his hands off of you! Cupping one cheek while pushing you down on the couch with the other, so he's on top.. then one of his knees pushes your thighs apart.. 🧎‍♀️

You know the rest.

But I also like to think maybe yall are making out, you on top of his lap, but you can't stop squirming! And it really isn't on purpose, you swear.. but yuji can only take so much, And eventually he can't hide his moans anymore!

Yeah idk I feel like humping n shit, maybe cummin in his pants is SO hot. UGH

I don't think it would really be planned..😋🎀

Also, I feel like he would be super flustered and kinda embarrassed with oral. In the sense that, he could spend hours between your thighs (we all know he's a munch), but the first time you ask to suck him off, he probably turns into a whiny mess.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THIS. Like- I'm sorry, but no matter how dominant or kinky people make yuji, which I won't lie I love, you CANNOT tell me this man doesn't whine or moan your name. You simply can't. LOOK AT HIM.!!! 🧎‍♀️🙏

I just, have so many thoughts and headcanons.. l can't control myself yuji headcanons are literally my drug. I love the subby ones, the Dom ones, fluff ones, smut ones... I DONT CARE. If a yuji headcanon exists, I WILL read it.

Omg, I have so much more but I have already made this soo long. I honestly just wanted to ask if you would ever make your own yuji head canons? Maybe you already have and I can't find it.. BUT LET ME KNOW!

I just HAVE to know what headcanons are floating around in that wonderful brain of yours!♡

Also so glad to see you liked my past rant♡♡!!!

I really hope you have a good day/night!!!! Make sure ur taking care of urself babes bc I can't survive without you><! 🎀

(Also sorry for any typos or whatever, this was 100% rushed because my fingers physically cannot keep up with all the thoughts I have of yuji.)

With a heart full of love, and a brain full of yuji,

-your horniest yuji lover!♡🎀

hi lovely <333

gonna put this under a read more so it doesn't take up too much space!

oooh headcanons are fun!! i don't post a ton, not for any particular reason, i just seem to gravitate towards snippets in established relationships.

omg yuji just blurting it out :(( what a sweetheart! he is mortified but i feel like he would try his best to play it cool, though his face feels like it's on fire from how flushed it is!! but then you tell him that you also like him and he visibly relaxes SO much and has the biggest smile on his face and he immediately wants to hug you and hold you close <3

i think for first dates, he would lean towards movies/mall, this way it's still semi-public. it's not that he doesn't want to spend time with you alone (he wants to soooo badly), but i think he thinks he has to take it slow and be sweet and gentlemanly. like he was definitely taught the "proper way" to court a girl by his grandfather, so he holds doors open for you and pulls out your chair and brings you flowers and stuff and its just so sweet of him idk. he might hesitate a bit for pda stuff, but once you give him the okay, he is constantly holding your hand or wrapping an arm around you!! maybe even asking for a kiss!! (side note: i think yuji gets all pouty when you forget to give him a goodbye kiss later in the relationship)

yes!! yuji would ABSOLUTELY be doing anything and everything for you as soon as he notices any symptoms or side effects. he's also the type to track your period on his phone lol just so he can prepare and give you some chocolate or whatever else might help! he is just like. the nicest and most caring boyfriend ever <3333

OOOH i love love love both of those for first time ughhh!! i have a fic i've been meaning to work on more but i'm just a little too fried to write much of anything, anyway its a dry humping fic with yuji because i just know he loves the feeling of it ! he can't even get embarrassed from cumming in his pants because it feels so good and he likes how dirty it is (he's a bit of a perv :3). BUT i also love the idea that he just can't help himself and he's so wrapped up in the moment that he doesn't even notice that his knee is pressing against your core... like he's licking into your mouth and grinding against you and you have to pull away because holy shit this feels great and you want more!! and it's kinda rushed and messy, barely taking clothes off but you both need each other so bad!!! (he makes up for it by taking his time with you for round 2 lol)

oh what i would GIVE to suck his dick... yuji is 100% super vocal in my opinion, like he cannot be quiet, which is why his mouth is always on you when he's fucking you! he's always kissing or biting or talking, so when you're sucking him off, he is left to just talk and make so much noise. whining and praising you because it feels so good to have your mouth wrapped around him <3 like imagine sitting between his strong thighs, looking up at him, and his eyes are half lidded, mouth open as he breaths heavily, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, muscles flexing as he tries not to force your head further down or buck his hips up.... ugh he's so hot...

i'd love to write more headcanons and other things for yuji!! its just a matter of me getting inspired or having the energy right now. work has been super draining for me so its been a little difficult to get my brain working lol but im hoping it'll pass in a few weeks

thank you for sharing these with me!!! i love hearing other people's thoughts and headcanons like its just so fun to see what's similar and whatnot :3

#.asks #.anon #yuji lover 🎀 anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori

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madi-writes-things · 2 days

Text

Nobody Pt. 4

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,332

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), fluff, PDA, fake dating chaos, mention of cramps and throwing up because of the pain, bad sex joke, use of emojis (I have no clue how else to explain the exact reactions other than the emojis), drinking/being drunk (I’ve never been drunk, so forgive me if my portrayal is off), Not Edited

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, I’ve literally been locked in my room for two weeks with no motivation. I really hope that y’all like this chapter. I’m also hoping to work on some other stuff coming up soon. 😁

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Nick and Matt stood at the island as me and Chris walked into the kitchen. I caught Nick’s eye as I set down enough food to feed a small militia. He just stares.

Matt hits him in the shoulder, prompting him to give him a dirty look before speaking. “I’m sorry…” He looked like he wasn’t sure what all he needed to apologize for. “I’m sorry that I punched you” he nodded toward Chris. “I’m sorry that I made you cry, I feel really bad about that.” He averts his eyes, and I think I see a small glint of shame.

I physically can’t stay mad at him, and I make it very obvious when I envelop him into a rib crushing hug. He whispers a small thank you in my ear before I walk back to the other side of the island to unpack the food. As I start unpacking breakfast I feel arms wrap around my waist, and a chin resting on my shoulder.

I freeze up, and Chris mumbles a quick “is this okay?” Into my hair. I look around realizing that Matt and Nick don’t even notice, much too invested in their food to care. I nod my head, trying to will the rosy shade to leave my face.

I’m failing miserably.

after breakfast me and Chris went upstairs to watch a movie in his room. Matt was quick to respond in the worst way possible.

“Sock that wang before you bang… and please be quiet, I don’t want to hear my brother doin it”

Y/N: 😨

Chris: 😮

Nick: 😟

Matt: 😁

needless to say, me and Matt practically teleported upstairs and away from that mortifying experience. Me and Chris enter his room in a fit of laughter, practically collapsing onto the bed.

After a second I noticed that Chris had stopped laughing… his laughter is addictive, and I already missed it. I turned to see him staring at me with a look in his blue eyes that I couldn’t quite grasp. He looked happy and sad and something else all at once.

“What?” I giggled as I said it, still thinking about what Matt said only a few minutes earlier.

“are you doing okay?” This question again… I never know what to say when people ask me that. Right now I’m doing great… but in 30 minutes, or a week, or even a month I might break down again.

that’s never the answer that people want. They want something simple, yes or no. He stares at me patiently waiting for my response, it makes me feel bad for not having one.

“I’m okay right now…” he gives me a quick nod before speaking again.

“Okay, will you tell me when you aren’t doing good?” Why is he offering this, he doesn’t want to deal with me. “You need a safe space, and you clearly aren’t going to tell Nick. Let me be your safe space.”

“okay”

With that we got comfy on his bed and found a movie.

“”“”“”“”“”

things carried on like this for months.

doing good.

going down.

running to Chris.

repeat.

he was always so sweet and caring. He would hold me while I cried Myself to sleep, he would walk me home early from an event if I wanted to leave, he would hold my hair back and get me a heating pad when my cramps got bad… no matter what, he was there. He had also started being more touchy in public, leaning into the fake relationship for those around us. It made me feel things that I tried to avoid for years.

I think I hate him… how DARE he make me fall in love with him, knowing that none of this is real. How dare he kiss me at parties, and hold me during movie nights, and make me feel safe when none of it is real for him.

“you okay baby?” He snaps me out of my thoughts with the use of his new favorite nickname for me. I melt when he calls me his baby, unfortunately a small part of me also dies inside every time I hear it.

“yeah, just a little tired.” We’ve been at this party for like three hours, and I haven’t even touched my drink. When Chris is tipsy he get more brave with his PDA, I don’t want to risk forgetting a single moment where he is touching me.

“do you want to walk home?” He doesn’t want to leave, he shouldn’t have to leave because I’m sad that he doesn’t love me.

“no. we should stay, you’re having fun. I’m actually going to go get a drink, maybe it will make me feel better.” He looks at me for a second before letting go of my hip, allowing me to grab a drink.

“”“”“”“”“”

How did I get here?

It’s like one second I was listening to Chris tell a story, and now I’m dancing to some annoying pop song. I need to find Chris, I definitely had a few too many drinks.

I stumbled around for a minute, everything is spinning and making me want to throw up. I don’t know if I can walk all the way home, but I don’t want to make all of them leave early. I grab my phone in an attempt to call Chris, but by the time he picks up I’ve forgotten what I was doing.

“”“”“”“”“”

Chris’s POV

I look down at my phone to see that Y/N is calling me, and it makes me a little worried. I pick the phone up to my ear, trying to head over the sounds of music and talking. I don’t hear her, only making me more worried.

She almost never drinks, because she has a very low tolerance. Last time I saw her, she was already three drinks in and proclaiming her love for the song that was on.

That was an hour ago.

I quickly scour the crowd in an attempt to find her face. And when I do my heart drops.

There she is in her skin tight jeans and corset top, looking lost with tears in her eyes. I rush to her side, immediately pulling the drink from her hand. She looks like she’s about to start crying.

“hey baby, can you look at me please?” When I say that she starts crying and she doesn’t seem like she’s stopping any time soon. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to find somewhere quiet so that you can sit down for a minute?” She nods her head aggressively before stumbling towards the bedroom of whoever is hosting.

The Golden Trio

From: Chris

can y’all meet me in the master bedroom, Y/N is really drunk and needs to go home.

From: Nicky Bo Bicky

for sure, I’ll bring some water for her.

I turned to Y/N, she looked out of it. Then all of a sudden life came back to her eyes in the worst way possible. She almost fell down in her attempt to get to the bathroom.

“it’s okay baby” I whispered sweet nothings to her as I held her hair and rubbed her back. Nick and Matt showed up shortly after she finished dry heaving, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink anything as fast as she drank that water.

If I thought it was a hassle trying to get her in the car, I had no clue how hard it would be to get her up a flight of stairs. She giggled as I picked her up bridal style… it made me so happy to hear her laughing.

once she got into more comfortable clothes, she fell asleep in no time.

as she held onto me and nuzzled into my side, my heart shattered. All I want is for her to be happy, but I know that I can’t fix everything. I kiss her on the forehead before rolling over and going to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann

#madi writes things #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader

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anemoiashifts · 5 hours

Text

how to detach for reality shifting.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

♡ stop putting your dr on a pedestal.

we’ve heard this before but really. i mean it.

im going to assume if you’ve wanted to shift you’ve asked people what it is, asked shifting creators other questions, looked into theories. you were trying to expand your knowledge by looking for answers outwardly. looking for information isn’t a bad thing, but obsessing over what shifting is / isn’t can make shifting harder because your focused on the “what-if’s” & not living as you are. deciding to set out & rationalize shifting & policing others can be detrimental in your journey. this is why i say, i don’t care what shifting is because it’s something. & that should be enough.

the truth is, there is no 10000% concrete proof that shifting is this or that. there is no experiment that solidifies one theory or another, demeaning it as “correct”. they’re all just theories for a reason. so stop trying to rationalize is. find comfort in the unknown. in my opinion, that is the first thing needed in detachment. the letting go & elimination of overthinking how something works & just allowing it to work within time.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

♡ “ill shift & things will be better. ill be happy, ill accomplish this. ill be better.”

your reality is a mirror of your thoughts & internal world. if you’re someone who thinks “this world is awful” you will subconsciously search for things that affirm those beliefs. i saw this example before & i think it really drives this thought home. if you see yourself in the mirror & notice your lipstick got on your teeth, you’re going to wipe it off your teeth. meaning, the mirror didn’t change. you did.

looking for external validation may unintentionally self-sabotage because you are not in the feeling of having it. you are searching for it which is you reminding yourself you do not have it yet.

don’t put off your happiness. allow yourself to feel everything you’re expecting in your dr at this moment. neville goddard once suggested the practice of living your life & imagine what it would be like if you had your desire. continue your imagination with the mindset that you’ve already shifted / manifested / achieved everything you’ve ever wanted until it shows in the 3d, when you are in full alignment. you are focusing on your desire, thus you will recognize it more & watch it show itself in your exterior. the 3d is a mirror to the mind.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

♡ so how do we detach ?

there is no step by step, how to guide. in its simplest terms detaching is accepting & not obsessing over an outcome (when it comes, how you will achieve it) because you know it’s yours already. detaching doesn’t mean not caring or not thinking about our manifestations or —in this case— our desired realities. it means not overthinking your desires.

detaching is ultimately trusting yourself & the universe. that everything will work out in your favor no matter what.

you must change yourself before anything else. once the concept of self is changed, everything else in your life will follow. you decide what you are worthy of. you decide what life you want to live. you are the only one who can truly define yourself. every one else, every other person you have come across, only has their assumption & interpretation of you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

i want to take a moment to speak about timing. there is no set time your manifestation will come. everyone attracts at different rates. it takes some people days to shift for the first time, it takes others months and some it can take years. patience & persistence is vital in manifesting.

example. some people are able to solve math problems really fast & get every answer correct on exam. while others need more time to preform at the same rate as the students who are able to complete their work faster. the quality of the work is the same. vs if the person who needed more time on math exams rushed through every single problem resulting in getting the answers wrong. everyone goes at their own pace & that’s okay.

a second example. let’s say your baking a cake. you put in all the ingredients correctly, you have to correct sized pan. but when it comes to baking it — let’s say 45 minutes — you keep opening the oven door to check on it every minute. it’ll never cook. you have to give things time & the seeds you’ve planted time to grow.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

#reality shifting #desired reality #shifting #shiftblr #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter

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iveleftitwithyou · 2 days

Text

adjustment | edward cullen x reader

hey besties!!! this is me finally (partially) fulfilling the request for reader visiting Bella from Arizona and becoming Edward's mate! i really tried to keep this in one part but it's definitely going to end up being two or three because i write too much. writing Edward is difficult when you're not a 108-year-old brooding man, so i hope i did him justice. anyways, hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

------

it was a dreary day in Forks, like it almost always is. the patter of raindrops on the windows, the whir of the espresso makers, and the quiet chatter of the baristas and other patrons made the small coffee shop a popular place when the skies decided to open up on the small town.

Edward was sat at a small two-person table in the back corner of the shop, back to the wall as he alternated between reading his copy of Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time and people-watching. it was all so interesting to him - the way the humans gossiped about their least favorite coworker or vented about their relationship issues. he wasn’t necessarily interested in the actual stories they told, but in the gravity of them. these issues were so small, so easily solvable, and he chuckled internally as he wished that Jennifer from accounting not leaving him alone in the break room was his biggest problem.

a soft chime rang through the small shop as the door opened and a figure ducked in quickly, obviously trying to find solace from the rain in the warm structure - Isabella Swan. he knew her from school - she was part of Mike Newton’s pack. pretty, but unremarkable, like all of her peers. the other girls in the pack, Jessica and Angela, evoked the same feeling as Isabella (and the rest of the school, for that matter) did: disinterest. he didn’t care to read her thoughts as she began to decide her order.

Edward often considered his sibling’s relationships; Rosalie and Emmett were a perfect match, the stereotypical beauty queen and jock. and Alice and Jasper were perfect for each other (of course, Alice knew that from the beginning). but he was all alone. it periodically crossed his mind that he should feel sad about this, but he never did - not until the coffee shop door opened again and she walked in.

she couldn’t have gone to school with him - he was sure he would have noticed her. the girl slowly closed the coffee shop door, looking relieved when her eyes found Isabella standing near the counter.

relieved?

it was at that moment that Edward realized there was a complete lack of thoughts coming from her. he watched as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, staring at the chalkboard menu posted above the register. it was apparent the girl was having thoughts, he just couldn’t hear them. Edward tried his best to focus solely on the girl, to hear anything from her, but he continued to come up short. how could this be?

he observed as the girl ordered, smiling at the cashier and handing him a stack of one-dollar bills. he handed her the change, and she dropped it all in the tip jar below. she and Isabella retreated to a small table to wait for their drinks, chatting about people with names Edward didn’t recognize.

“did you hear that Chelsea Kennedy is pregnant?” the unfamiliar girl gossipped, leaning in as she spoke.

“what? who’s kid is it? Tyler Fisher’s?”

“that’s the thing - it’s actually his brother Zach’s!” the sound of the girls’ laughter filled his ears as he eavesdropped. it was hard to do when you have stronger hearing than most.

he still couldn’t get a read on her. Isabella’s mind was alive with visions of the three protagonists of their conversation, picturing the pregnant girl and who he assumed was the brother holding hands in the hallways of what seemed to be her old high school. still, nothing from the other girl.

maybe he just needed to be closer to her. he’d never needed proximity before, but he was more willing to hold onto hope that that would be the solution than admit that his gift didn’t work on this one girl.

before he knew it, he was up from his chair, approaching the table. “Isabella? i’m sorry to bother you, but i was wondering if i could ask you a question about the Romeo and Juliet essay for Mr. Banner’s class?”

“it’s just Bella, but, um, sure- yeah, what’s up?” she was stunned that he was speaking to her. she was well aware that he rarely initiated conversation with anyone. why is he talking to me? does he think i’m cute? oh god, my hair is probably so messed up from the rain. i hope he doesn’t think-

he cut her thoughts off, patience wearing thin as he still heard nothing from the girl across the table. “i was just wondering if you thought symbolism was a strong enough literary device for me to discuss in my essay. i’ve been going back and forth between that and foreshadowing.” he put on his best human-pleasing voice and smile, maintaining eye contact with Isabella. of course, he knew there was plenty of symbolism in the play, and he would have no problem writing about it for the essay.

“there’s a lot of symbolism in the play. i think you should go with that.” she replied simply, thoughts still reeling as Edward tried to ignore them. finally, he thought, he was able to turn his attention to the other girl.

“i’m sorry, let me introduce myself, i didn’t mean to be rude. my name is Edward Cullen. i haven’t seen you around here before. what is your name?” the same human-pleasing demeanor was on full display now.

the girl blushed in - embarrassment? shame? nervousness? he didn’t know, and it was killing him. “my name is y/n. it’s nice to meet you.”

“ah, y/n. that’s a beautiful name. how do you know Bella?” he remembered to call her the right name this time. of course, he had already figured out the pair likely went to school together before Isabella moved to Forks, but he figured he should let her tell him that.

“we went to high school together in Phoenix. my parents are moving to Japan for a year for my dad’s work, so i’m staying with her and Charlie until they get back.”

“you didn’t want to go with them?” he didn’t mean to pry, but he couldn’t help wanting to know more about her. he couldn’t gather anything from her head, so he had to verbalize his curiosities, which was mildly infuriating.

“no, i like it in america. plus i missed Bella.” she didn’t make eye contact, fidgeting with the corner of her paperback copy of The Great Gatsby.

“i see. that’s a great choice in book, by the way,” he smiled insincerely, deep in thought as he excused himself from the conversation. “well, i have to get going, but it was great to meet you. i guess i’ll see you around.”

with that, he returned to his corner table, packing up his things hastily and exiting the shop.

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen fanfic #twilight #the twilight saga #fanfic #fanfiction #midnight sun

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puppy-steve · 26 days

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had my stepdad's funeral today (not my current stepdad) and hoooooo boy the abandonment issues are in full swing :)

#not a single mention of me in his obituary - as if the 15 or so years where he raised me suddebly didn't matter anymore -#- bc he and my mom were no longer married. all his current step kids were listed though :) (along with their partners/spouses)#i didn't even get to sit up front with everyone. i sat in the very back of the room in the very last row.#and you know what? i really fucking needed the comfort of my step brothers #like i was 10 again and they were the only ones standing between me and him when his temper got ugly #i got it at the end at the cemetery where we all three hugged really tight. but i still would've liked to sit beside them.#it was just like i was sort of overlooked the whole time - which in fairness i havent actually been his stepkid in 10 years #but. idk. it still hurt.#bc i also noticed it with my own parents #people are always shocked when i tell them that yes - this is my dad and this is my mom #bc they know their Other Kids. not me.#it's like a friend said: sometimes it's not the middle child that's forgotten. it's the eldest.#ok sorry rant over ive just been stewing over this all day #cj talks

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uncanny-tranny · 8 months

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Hi, I have a question I hope it's okay to ask here. I'm a ciswoman dating a transgender man. I know that there are a few things that he finds still difficult about being trans (but I don't know everything yet as we've only been dating for a few months). Lately I've noticed him saying some things that make me wonder whether maybe he wants some confirmation that I really see him as a man. Of course I want to do this for him, but I'm not entirely sure how. Do you have any tips?

I think so much of it boils down to being compassionate and direct. There's so much pressure on people in relationships to just "know" through divine interpretation of how to best love their partner, and there is almost no thought given about the idea of offering love being a continuous conversation.

I'm not sure what will "work" best for your partner to show that you see him and not a warped perception, so I really think asking questions about where he is at might be more beneficial, since you'll be hearing direct feedback. I know it can be hard to navigate through something you're unfamiliar with right now, so that makes it even more important that you navigate through it with the person in question.

Trans manhood looks different for... literally all of us, which is why I don't have a direct answer for how you can help your partner feel loved and seen as a man. Since it looks different for each of us, the things that affirm us and help us will all look different, as well as the things that make us feel less understood and hurt.

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #nonbinary #a relationship is basically a continuous conversation starting with 'how can i best love you?'#once you start lessening the pressure of Being A Perfect Partner All The Time you might notice that these conversations become easier #because you won't feel like you've failed at understanding or loving your partner. you will start realizing that both of you are people #and that people are complex and nuanced and our needs and desires fluctuate #it can be hard at times to navigate through relationships where two people have different experiences (trans vs. cis for instance)#but those different experiences can easily shape your understanding because you have to consider more viewpoints #i definitely appreciate seeing people coming to trans people to ask questions like these...#...but we are ALL different. if you met one trans person you have only met one of us...#...and your partner *might* be OVER THE MOON if you show that you are willing to make an effort and take notice of these things...#...because many of us have had bad experiences before and it can make you feel like what you are and how you feel just Doesn't matter...#...while i won't speak for him (your partner) i will say that he deserves to also know where you are and how both of you are doing...#...because you BOTH are in the relationship and both deserve to be with *each other* and learn *from each other*#i think that's what so many human relationships come down to (romance or no)#THAT is what makes a relationship beautiful... not this idealized 'ooh i can divine from the stars how they feel'#or like the idea of just 'knowing' how to love somebody and fulfill them. that is only a fantasy we tell ourselves...

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tremerechantry · 5 months

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You identify with Patrick Bateman because "sigma male manipulator emotionless masculinity based schizo murderer", I identify with Patrick Bateman because of his fundamental lack of self esteem--the fact that he feels so empty inside that he has to turn to absolutely disgusting competitive materialism in an effort to maintain any sense of self worth. His clothes, his furniture, his belongings, the music he listens to, the food he eats, the shows he sees, the politics he'll pay only basic lip service to and then contradict three sentences later, the women he fucks, his career, his degree... these are the only things that he has in terms of an identity, and he reacts absolutely violently to anyone that threatens that. He kills Paul Owens because he threatens Patrick's sense of status. Patrick kills gay men who threaten his masculinity. The ex-girlfriend who threatens his image as a perfect specimen. Prostitutes and the homeless, because his ability to kill them and get away with it bolsters his own sense of wealth and status.

And he thinks of himself as a killer because killing is something he alone in his circle supposedly does. He continuously pushes the envelope, committing increasingly more horrific and blatant murders, because this is something he can be noticed for. He begins viewing his own reality as if he were watching a movie... filling up the emptiness inside him with delusions of grandeur. And if anyone around him could actually notice the murders, he would gain some sense of recognition, but no one does. Even if they actually do happen in the novel, the only person that actually remarks on them is Patrick himself. Even if the outside world pays absolutely no attention to what Patrick is capable of, he knows what he is on the inside.

But inside doesn't matter.

So we're not the same. And I think you're pretty stupid.

#Notable also that the only people he seems not to kill whatsoever are those in love with him. thus boosting his self esteem #I'm... such a Patrick Bateman as an artist truther #like... the murders are his artistic output #he is otherwise a completely generic person who means nothing. but he genuinely takes solace in his identity as this 'artist'#but I think in the course of the novel it's revealed that MUCH LIKE ME most of his artistic output happens in his mind #so it doesn't matter you know? Inside doesn't matter. Patrick has all these ideas and fantasies and creativity inside him #and none of it is real until he actually puts it out into the real world. which he fails to #and inside doesnt matter. inside doesnt matter. the novel is just his process of giving up on himself as an artist and resigning himself #to the fact that HE IS NOTHING #he has absolutely no worth because the one thing he prides himself on is not actually being seen by anyone else......#like he is just like me for real. the continuous rambling about things you're an 'expert' on #that are blatantly false or misunderstood because you are stupid really #but you can't accept that because the idea of being a person that Knows Things About This is too important to your self worth #because the only way you can respect yourself is if everyone sees all the great things you have on the outside.#got to make it clear on the outside. because inside youre hollow and there's nothing actually good there.#so your degree your grades your weight your looks your intelligence your trivia knowledge your artistic output your ability to just #KEEP MAKING THINGS ALL THE TIME #how much you can make people laugh. how well read you are (you arent really) how good your taste in music is #this is what matters and you need this to be noticed by other people all the time because inside you arent anything really #but its okay if inside doesnt matter. youre not fucking pretty on the inside

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bunnyb34r · 1 year

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Am I crabby bc I forgot to take my meds this morning, bc I have to poop, or bc NO ONE FUCKING HELPS IN MY AREA???!

We just don't know :)

#marquilla #i wanna scream so so SO BAD Z #the team leads are getting on our ass and it's like we KNOW what needs to be done it's not a matter of us not knowing it's us NOT HAVING .#TIME OR PEOPLE! and you three not enforcing your silly little demands on anyone BUT [relative coworker] and i bc youre all afraid of #black women bc youre racist cowards #work talk #im not even joking they literally will not talk to any of the nonwhite people in the section and it's like okay well [relative coworker]#and i arent team leads or managers and we dont get paid to babysit so... we're not gonna get on our coworkers asses #when they dont do their job just bc YOU have issues like we keep telling you who isnt working (and OTHER sections notice who doesnt do shit #so YOU fucks can see it too) but yknow let's yell at the choir that the minister aint working #tip im so mad

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ironmanstan · 1 year

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I cannot read people actually talking ab american psycho bc anyone actually invested into it has a 75% chance of subscribing to like 2 of the three readings of it that are wrong

#i deleted one of them out of my head but the whole ooiuhhohi he doesnt actually kill people paul allen is alive hes hallucinatinggg #the whole thing is a commentary on how the peak of the 'american dream' requires you to fill a mold society expects #kill all individuality. deny age for the sake of youth. ignore horrific actions to maintain the status quo.#batemans whole character IN THE MOVIE is him like very much living in a hell of doing these things not bc its innate #but because he sees these things as what society expects and thus he should aspire and want for them #he doesnt kill paul bc he wants or needs more money or even that he feels threatened. hes comfortable #its entirely hes so so caught up in society and the ideals pushed by that society that he overly acts to achieve them as much as possible #so he kills him bc he recognizes hes doing better than him #the paul allen is alive thing is to hit home a point on this #bc the whole movie everyone treats bateman like hes crazy and cares way too much #and then paul being 'alive' hits that home extra bc he IS caring too much. bc everyone is so numb to whats going on around them #they dont even realize they havent seen paul. they mix up people throughout the movie constantly even tho supposedly theyre close?#its bc everyone looks the same to them . nobody stands out and they all fit this same mold. theyre all the same person #bateman realizes everything hes done 1. doesnt matter bc nobody cares and 2. it never will matter and he could snap and it wouldnt matter #bc nobody would notice or care in their society blind to each other #even then the only person who genuinely ever sees him for the monster he is is the hooker he chases in those few scenes wjth her #anyway #idk why it makes me mad it just does #the gamer speaks uwu #also the directors or somethjng said hes actually for real killing people so.

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sol-flo · 4 months

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i'm going to destroy this damn phone

- the boss avoider

#long vent / rant on tags open at your own risk #straight up turned off my phone and put teams on do not disturb because i was TRYING TO WORK and kept getting interrupted by his whining #(he particularly said he needed me to work [read: be at the office. december 22.] while hindering my ability to do so !!!)#like the job is lame and boring and all but as much as i bitch about it i overall don't mind it that much #i was on a nice roll. think i finished this first website draft in record time (it's not very complicated but still. just 2 days)#and i stg i never have any problems with my project heads yknow. it's not a matter of being bad at receiving orders or w/e #and regardless of what he might say the communication problems are not on my end. bc again it doesn't happen w anyone else #i brought it up with him and he said 'well communication is a two way street you have to do it too' but tell me how can i talk to this man #i misunderstand a message he sends bc he never ever details what he wants even after i specifically asked him to yknow #tell me the whole information when he asks something of me #and then i respond based on the message i received and he goes 'well show me where i said that' FUCK YOU #he's always so passive aggressive about it all too #like if you say 'we have to look at the marketing materials to make new social media posts' and then. not tell me anything else #how am i supposed to know that there's a specific folder and you want me to take the text previously written and put it on new images #like that's a whole other sentence my guy you cannot be mad that i thought you wanted me to scour your social media and #make new posts whole cloth. fuck right off i have to put in my notice bc it's impossible to work under a man like this #like forgive me for the expression but he absolutely lacks leadership skills #if you're not good with people you should just delegate those parts to people who are and focus on reading about the metav3rse #GOD. i'll soon be sent to the seaside for my health (new years trip w my friends) but. i won't be on break at all so :grimace:#because there's that too. haven't had a single break except for holidays but like. only the DAY of the holiday #holiday on a thursday and you're expecting a nice four day weekend? well too bad get fucked you're working that friday #like jesus you're not providing anything so important you need to work your employees every legally allowed day of the year #just stop for the holidays! people won't die because someone's website has been delayed for two weeks!#to think i even considered learning frontend to branch my career options. i'm not stepping foot in a tech company again in my life #i mean there's still self important bosses everywhere. my friend's at a marketing agency and god knows the owner is crazy but #the grindset is gonna kill you and i won't let it kill me too.

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sawruhh · 5 months

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okay so

#the guy texted me and said he didn’t feel comfortable dating because I’m still quote building my career unquote #I don’t understand because 1) there was no new information presented and 2) I’m not sure why that really matters #but I just said okay!#I didn’t feel the need to explain myself #or ask him what he meant #I just said okay and then he may have felt bad so he sent me a nice thing about how I’m very cute and fun and he knows I’ll do well #and I was just like I think so too 😁 take care!!#I think I’ve reached a new level of self assurance and I really like that #It feels good #so my mom asked me about him and I told her what happened #and she was like you know what I didn’t even like him that much #lmao #she’s always Sayin stuff to make me feel better #but I do genuinely feel good!#I don’t miss him and I also don’t have any hard feelings #but I did notice that even in this case where I felt very calm I still was brushing red flags about him under the rug #and I hope I stop doing that soon #I’m sorry this is vulgar but he did try to tell me twice that apparently he’s very well endowed #which felt really out of character because he was super polite and respectful in all other instances #constantly caught between trying to see the good in people but also being discerning #so that’s what happened #I’m headed out for thanksgiving! it’s going to be a crazy week #remember #literally typing this at the airport

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riaki · 5 months

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i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

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