#I did not have time to distress anything but whatever

[faggotisaacfloofs]

the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]

Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.

1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*

2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"

If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!

If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.

Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.

Some things they might need you to do:

Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)

engage the brakes of the wheelchair

hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)

offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]

If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair

nothing

Something else

Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do

Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!

A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.

ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"

*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).

**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.

TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!

[talkorsomething]

want to cut my hair again like you wouldn't believe. What are the possible consequences of going bald

[autumnrory]

always feel like my siblings almost forget what my dad is actually like which it's like how lol just because you don't live here anymore doesn't negate years of his shit and you still see some of it when you are with him so it's nice to actually get some acknowledgement of it when me and my mom are still witness to it

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[schtrambotik]

I think too much when I can't sleep. This is definitely not proofread but please enjoy a tiny look into my never-ending neighbor fantasy. nsfw 18+ Neighbor!Price who tries his best to hide his attraction to you knowing he’s too old for you but often fails miserably. Looking at you up and down when you wave at him from your front porch, his eyes fixed on your exposed legs while giving you a tight-lipped smile. A raspy “Good morning, doll” leaving his lips as he walks past your shared fence towards his car.  

Neighbor!Price who’s been positively obsessed with you since the day you first moved in. He can remember everything from the day you two met, all the way from the innocent smile you gave him as he introduced himself, down to the small tank top you were wearing, and the way your sweat made it stick to your body from the effort of carrying in your boxes.  

Neighbor!Price who let you know you could count on him for anything you might need, telling you he wants to make sure you do okay. A sweet young thing like you living in that big house all alone, it’s not odd for him to care, or something like that he said.   

“I mean it, love. Anything, anytime.” his deep voice, along with that signature stern look on his face easily sent chills down your spine ever since. You softly nodded your head, assuring him you won’t hesitate to call him.   

Neighbor!Price who was delighted to see you that evening when he opened his front door. His eyes immediately darted to your soaked shirt without any shame, clearing his throat at the sight of your wet cleavage that was practically begging for his attention.   

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with a low tone once he met your gaze again, noticing the distressed look in your eyes. A deep loud laugh left his lips when you explained how you noticed your sink was leaking, and in the process of fixing it, you seemed to have made the problem worse.   

Neighbor!Price who went to help you without a second thought, walking into your home as if he had been there a million times, going straight to your bathroom to find and hopefully fix the mess you made. Working in silence and pretending he couldn’t tell you seemed to be in a trance staring at every part of him while he worked, his arms certainly catching most of your attention.  

Neighbor!Price who felt a fire erupt in his chest when you engulfed him in a quick hug once he was done. The softness of your voice when you thanked him not helping at all as he tried his hardest to be a gentleman. But God was it hard when your tits pressed up against him like that.  

Neighbor!Price who snapped out of his daydream when you asked if there’s anything you could do to thank him. 

“A drink would be good” he hummed in response, following you into the kitchen while trying to push the nasty thoughts to the back of his mind and ignore the growing ache in his pants.  

Neighbor!Price who was practically torturing himself by staying next to you, only having half a mind to hear the words to whatever silly story you were telling him. Nods and hums were his only response while he finished his glass.   

Neighbor!Price who decided to be quick with his goodnight, knowing it was only a matter of time before he gave in and did something stupid.   

“Thanks again,” you said with a sweet smile, looking up at him with those doe eyes while you stood next to the door.  

“It’s my pleasure.” the rasp in his tone gave away how much he was restraining himself, but thankfully you were oblivious to his current predicament, at least that’s what he told himself.   

“If you need me, you know what to do” he gave you a playful wink before stepping out, feeling your eyes follow him while he returned to his house.  

Neighbor!Price who couldn’t go to sleep that night until he stroked his cock at the thought of how he could’ve bent you over that kitchen counter and showed you exactly how much he wanted to help you.

Your name fell from his lips like prayer while he pictured how you could’ve thanked him with your pretty pink lips wrapped around his leaking tip, looking up at him with those innocent eyes that made him ache to ruin you.   

Neighbor!Price who came with a loud grunt that vibrated through the back of his throat; eyes tightly shut as he imagined his cum dripping onto your big round tits instead of his bedsheets.   

Slow strokes and deep breaths helped him come down from the high; head falling back against the soft pillows as he opened his eyes again. Swearing to himself this would be the last time he thought of you like that, just like he did every night. 

[agnesjurati]

alright since i've had multiple people asking me about it i'm gonna try to link to some stuff talking about the ableism and antisemitism

but--and i don't mean for this to come across condescendingly--i'm also going to ask y'all to please also put some effort into learning how to seek out information on your own. a lot of the stuff i'm linking i found by googling and/or searching tumblr with search terms like "strange new worlds ableism" and "strange new worlds antisemitism"

i understand that searching for information is a lot harder with how search engines are now, and navigating search engines probably isn't exactly something that's taught in general school curriculum. at the same time, it's also a very important thing to learn how to do effectively, especially if learning about, understanding, learning to identify, and combating bigotry is something that's important to you.

snw antisemitism post / and another. (also how Leonard Nimoy very intentionally drew on his Jewish heritage in order to inform Spock as a character and Vulcan culture as a whole, and how SNW has seemingly completely ignored all of that)

post about ableism in snw (hemmer) / post about ableism in snw (pike) (this one is older, but it still stands) / and another one / opinion piece on SNW that gets into some of the ableism (pike) towards the end of the piece

and here are some pages i found that might help with learning how to more effectively search for information online:

Seven Ways to Find What You Want on the Internet - MindTools

10 tips for smarter, more efficient Internet searching - TechRepublic

[sing-you-fools]

thinking about Good Omens 2. and stories, and the shape of them, and Terry Pratchett and his themes. and something clicked.

Aziraphale is cackling.

it's not just the ball. he spends the entire season trying to force the story into a shape it's not, and everyone suffers for it.

i've seen some less than charitable takes on Crowley's actions and they all ignore how much Crowley did try to talk to Aziraphale, did try to ask Aziraphale questions, did try to help, only to be ignored or brushed off. because his questions, his offers, they didn’t fit with the story Aziraphale was telling himself.

quiet, gentle, and romantic. it was, if you're our favorite Angel - right up until the end, at least. because he decided that's the story he was in. from the very beginning, he's off in la-la land, living out this romcom with a cute little mystery wrapped up in it, completely ignoring what's actually going on around him. i'll set Nina and Maggie up! (completely ignoring that Nina tells him she has a partner, and at that point, he has no reason to think she's anything less than happy.) i'll take ~our~ car to go do investigate this silly little mystery (he's not taking it even a little bit seriously!) while you stay here and run the bookshop and it will be so quaint and domestic! soon we'll dance and confess our feelings that we obviously share because we're already so clearly a couple we just need to finally say it!

Crowley knows the entire time that they're in a horror story but Aziraphale ignores every attempt he makes to point that out because it doesn't fit the story he decided he's in the middle of.

he brushes off Crowley's concerns and questions - his QUESTIONS! - like they're nothing. he doesn't want to see it, so he doesn't. and Crowley should have told him more?

why would he?

when you are CLEARLY in distress and it's being BLATANTLY AND WILLFULLY IGNORED, what the fuck are you supposed to do? "Crowley didn't comminicate" well okay if I were having a panic attack about something and my husband completely ignored it, chattering on about our dinner plans or whatever, that wouldn’t exactly make me want to open up about what was wrong! that would send the very fucking clear signal that he didn't want to know!

words aren't the only way we communicate and Crowley's body language, the entire season, is that of someone who is living in a horror story, knows he's living in a horror story, and is fucking terrified. if Aziraphale were paying any attention to Crowley instead of focusing all his energy trying to set things up just so for the big climax of his love story, he would know something major was wrong.

why would Crowley have told him how cruel Gabriel was about the execution when Aziraphale's already so thoroughly convinced that heaven is pure and good and has shown over and over through the millennia that he's not really open to considering that it can be cruel!

just look at them at the dance. Crowley freaking out because there's a horde of demons out there and Aziraphale giggling as they go to dance. that's the whole season!

you know who Crowley reminds me of this season?

he's watching helplessly and with increasing levels of distress as Aziraphale shoves every plot point into the romcom hole even though it's obviously not remotely romcom shaped! and i'm sick of people saying he was abusive because he raises his voice about it a few times!

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

[moonstruckme]

okay sooo mae i have this idea for emt!marauders! you know how some people have mistaken appendicitis/ruptured appendix for bad period cramps (bc period education is so abysmal). im imagining a reader who thinks they’re having the worst period pain ever and the marauders are trying to help, but once reader describes their symptoms the boys are like ‘uhmmm no babes you literally need an organ removed rn’.

i hope you are having the best day <3 sending you all the good vibes!! <3

Sending good vibes back, thank you lovely <33

cw: stomach pains, mention of hospital/surgery

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 974 words

“Shh, I know, baby.” 

“You don’t,” you moan bitterly, pushing your face harder into Sirius’ lap and clutching your heating pad to your stomach. 

“I—yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry.” He continues to toy with your hair, fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp in an attempt to soothe you. On the other end of the couch by your feet, James watches you with a sad puppy look. Sirius’ hand brushes across your temple, and he makes a sympathetic whining sound. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re hot.” 

“It hurts,” you whine in earnest. 

“Do you want some brownies?” Remus peeks out of the kitchen. “I’m almost done with these, but you’re welcome to some batter if you can’t wait.” 

You nibble your lip, looking at him apologetically. “I don’t think I feel well enough to eat anything.” 

Remus gives you a compassionate look and disappears back into the kitchen. Another wave of sudden, sharp pain makes you suck in a breath, curling tighter in on yourself. Sirius coos. 

“Fuck, what did I do to deserve this?” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. “It’s never usually this bad.” 

“Does it hurt in your back, too, angel?” James leans forward, rubbing tentatively at the base of your spine. 

“No, not—not this time. It’s so weird.” 

His eyebrows bunch. “Why don’t you at least have some of your tea? That usually helps, doesn’t it?” 

You press your face into Sirius’ stomach. He palms the back of your head protectively, thumb rubbing the skin by your ear. “Honestly, thank you, but I really don’t think I can. 

“You should, dove,” says Remus, coming in from the kitchen to crouch by your head. He takes your tea and presses it into your hands, brushing a kiss against your hairline when you take it. “Sit up and have a few sips before it gets cold.” 

Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, allowing Sirius to help you into a seated position. He pulls you gently into his lap, making sure your heating pad stays situated, and you raise the cup to your lips. James rubs your ankle encouragingly while you drink. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks at your pinched expression. 

You mash your face into Sirius’ shoulder, ashamed. You feel horribly dramatic. You must have the lowest pain threshold in the whole world. “I can’t decide whether to go to the toilet. I feel like I could be sick, but moving makes it hurt worse.” 

Remus takes your cup from you, setting it back on the table. He’s frowning. “Moving makes it worse?” 

You nod miserably. 

He touches his knuckles to your forehead, brows stitching together. “How long have you been feeling nauseous?” 

You make a low, piteous sound. It feels impossible to think clearly with your stomach radiating hurt. “I dunno. I think it’s because of the pain.” 

“Was it the same time that the cramps started?” 

“I think so.” 

“Alright, thanks, sweetheart.” He kisses the space between your brows. “Do you mind if we check on something really quickly?”

You feel your eyebrows furrow. You’re about to ask what he means when James takes your heating pad, pulling it off of your middle. 

“Just for a second,” he promises at your distressed expression. “I’m gonna feel your stomach, okay?” 

You nod, wanting whatever this is over with so you can get your heating pad back, but when James’ fingers push gently into your lower abdomen, the pain triples. You cry out. 

“It’s okay,” Sirius coos, holding you tighter to his chest while James backs up to allow you to fold your knees in again. “It’s okay, baby, he’s done.”

“Jamie,” Remus asks softly, “would you get us a bag ready, please?” 

You blow air out through your mouth, trying to calm yourself as the pain fades back to the way it was. Sirius pets the back of your head, his other arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. “A bag for what?” you ask weakly. 

Remus looks at you, his face conveying both apology and tenderness. “We’re going to go to the hospital,” he says slowly. 

“Wha—why?” You feel immediately frantic. Tears press at your eyes. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”  

“He’s telling you why, baby, listen.” Sirius kisses your head. 

“You’re not having period cramps,” Remus says patiently. “The good news is, we can fix it. The pain will go away, and you’ll be completely fine. But to do that, we need to go to the hospital so you can have your appendix taken out.” 

As he explains, Sirius is pressing kiss after kiss into your hair, holding you close and rubbing your back when you get upset. You make your dissent known, but Remus is calm and understanding. He answers your questions honestly, tells you about the procedure, promises they’ll be with you for as long as you’re awake. Before long, James has returned with a backpack of supplies for an overnight stay and your pillow under his arm. 

He sets them both down on the coffee table. Slips one arm behind your shoulders, another beneath the crooks of your knees. 

“No sense in walking when you’re poorly, right angel? Sirius, you can carry her things, yeah?”

Sirius groans as he slings the backpack over his shoulder. “Fuck, did you pack all her books?” 

“Just the essentials.” James kisses the bridge of your nose. “Wouldn’t want you getting bored in there. You doing alright?” 

“I don’t see how it can get worse,” you manage. You know you must look awful, eyes red from withheld tears and face creased with pain. James’ brows hook sympathetically. 

“At least you’ll feel better in a few hours, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you. He sets a palm on top of your head as he moves past you both to get the door. “We’ll have you all fixed up soon, dove.” 

[wrioluvr]

christmas with your sub yandere boyfriend ❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

short drabble for today's occasion! merry christmas and happy holidays, everyone! ♡ gn reader, suggestive content

stumbling back to your apartment in an exhausted state, you can't help but lament the fact that you had to work so late on christmas eve, of all days. every hour that passed, came another distressed text from your boyfriend, desperately asking when you'd be back home. when he video called you during your break, he was so excited to spend your first christmas together, he was practically bouncing all over the place. given that he'd been trying to win your affections in any way possible over the past year (especially using his favourite method of clinging to your thighs and begging while sobbing), this was quite possibly the second best day of his life. the first being the day you accepted him as your boyfriend, of course. opening the door, his usual overly enthusiastic greeting, wearing nothing but an apron lovingly stitched with "[name's]" was replaced by an unusual silence. the room was lit by the soft, romantic glow of candles only he'd take the time to carefully set down, but yet he was nowhere to be found. looking at the clock, you realised that it's already past midnight, which meant that it was christmas already. he probably just got tired waiting and went to sleep. seeming to read your mind, your train of thought was interrupted by a bashful, familiar voice coming from the christmas tree the two of you had put up together a few days ago. you look over, and there he was in all his glory. he was naked, the only thing adorning his skin being the pretty red ribbon he'd tied himself up with like a gift, rendering him helpless to your every desire. "hey.... i'm here." he says shyly, looking up at you as you crouched at the base of the tree to meet his eyes. "what in santa's name are you doing?" you sighed, reaching over to loosen his binds. "w-wait! i did this for you... i'm your present! you can do whatever you want with me." his lust-filled eyes shimmer as he fantasises about you having you way with him, while his arms and legs are tied, unable to resist. "merry christmas, darling." he whispers, imploring you to do something to him, anything. this was going to be a long night, wasn't it...? ❆

[emmyrosee]

Kita shinsuke gets confused after you start dating.

It’s not like it’s been a long time, far from it, but you felt so comfortable in his everyday life that he stops thinking too hard about your interactions.

You reach for his hand, he takes it. You shiver, he gives you his jacket. You’re hungry, he shares his snacks.

He gives you a compliment, you… hate him?

You must. There it is, in capital letters under his own blue text: OFBEOD KITAAAA I HATE YOU FRRR😭😭

His heart races as he rereads the text over and over again, unsure of what he could’ve possibly said to have you say ‘I hate you.’

Whatever it is, he needs to find a way to apologize.

The idea of upsetting you in a way he barely understands is concerning, it makes him extremely saddened, and he picks up his pace to get to practice.

He’s sure there’s someone there that can help him decipher your distress.

Leave it to the two twins, tying their shoes in sync, to be the first ones to notice his stress.

“Kita-San?” Osamu asks, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” atsumu continues. “You’re late- you’re NEVER late.”

“And you look like you’re about to upchuck.”

Lovely.

“Osamu, Atsumu,” he says, breath shaky as the twins turn to look up at him. “You’re… familiar with relationships, yes?”

“Well he’s been single since birth-“

“HEY!”

“-but I’ve got a little bit of knowledge. What’s up?”

Kita gnaws on his lip before he passes the phone to the grey haired twin, showing him your sudden outburst of hatred towards him. Osamu quirks a confused brow as his eyes glaze over the text, the blonde twin quickly popping on his feet to peer over Osamu’s shoulder to read along.

Osamu flicks his eyes from his phone up to Kita, “what am I looking at?”

“She hates me,” he says, a frightened lilt in his tone. “And I don’t know what I do. I don’t know what I did,or said, or how I can fix this. And I…” he takes a breath in to calm down, “I need your help.”

Osamu stays silent for a bit, and atsumu cracks a cheesy smile, “cap… you didn’t do anything.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t do anything- this is just… how some girls act,” osamu explains, and kita feels his cheeks warm up from the sudden crowd that’s gathered.

“Are we teaching Kita-San something now?” Suna teases, peering over Osamu’s shoulder to read the message. “Teaching him about giiiiiirls.”

And shinsuke wants to say something back, about how he knows girls and he doesn’t need to be taught anything…

But maybe he does.

Osamu takes a small breath in before passing his captain’s phone back to him, “sometimes, girls are just… uhm….”

“Aggressive?” He asks, and Akagi chuckles behind him.

“No,” Osamu hums thoughtfully. “I would probably say more… excited than guys, and it makes them kinda wanna… be… ferocious?”

“Feral?” Suna chimes in.

“Buck wild?”

“How about all of the above,” Aran says easily.

Kita quirks a brow, “so she doesn’t actually hate me?”

“No! She’s just excited that you complimented her, I think.”

“Yeah Kita-San,” Atsumu chuckles. “Girls only say they hate you when they love you; that’s like. A thing.”

“They also bite,” Akagi cuts in. “For… some reason.”

“They BITE?”

“I’ve been smacked so many times,” Aran playfully laments, and Shinsuke’s head whips towards him, only to make the ace shrug, “what? She’ll get excited to see you, or something good happens, and she just. Smacks your arms. It doesn’t always hurt.”

“What do you mean ALWAYS!” Shinsuke is suddenly extremely nervous about whether he received a girlfriend… or a pitbull.

“Or she’ll bite you,” Suna hums.

“Or says she hates you,” the twins circle back. At seeing their captains new nerves, they rise to their feet to clap him on the back.

“You’ll be fine, cap,” the blonde assures. “It’ll catch you by surprise, sure.”

“May be a little painful,” osamu snorts.

Atsumu snickers, “but you’ve liked her for a long time. And if it’s too much, you tell her to stop.” He nods before turning on his heel and mumbling a soft ‘hell knows you’re good at that,’ under his breath.

The conversation makes Shinsuke… convinced. He’s sure that there’s minimal that you can do to upset him, even if these methods of love lean far into the unconventional. He gnaws at his lip as the crowd disperses, golden eyes glazing over the contents once more.

He cracks a small smile, taking a soft breath in and letting his fingers take over typing and saying everything he could want to say in just a few words.

SENT I love you, too :)

You reply with an absolute jumble of words and praises, capitals and random emojis. He smiles before planting his phone in his bag and heading out to practice, feeling it buzz more than a few times in his pocket.

Maybe a few well intentioned bite marks wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to him.

[harryspet]

well kept [5] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: even longer chapter :)

word count: 5.3k

In which Rafe presents you with his plan for your future and you question the true cost of his offer.

well kept masterlist

You breathed easy for the first time in a long while. You laughed, smiled, and your heart beat at a normal pace. You sipped your drink not from nervousness but from a desire to truly enjoy yourself. The evening was about fun and connection, and you were determined to embrace it.

The week following your cabin trip had been a deep pit of depression. Your friends, concerned by your obvious distress, had insisted you join them for the weekend. They only saw the stress of work weighing on you, Rafe’s hidden bruises were invisible to them. You had opted for jeans and a crop top, deliberately avoiding a dress that might reveal the lingering marks of his anger. 

It was an act of rebellion to wear something Rafe hadn’t picked out but it was freeing. It was time you accepted that he didn’t own you 24/7, he had no right to you two days out of the week.

You bought your friends drinks, a part of the new perk that came with having salary. You liked treating them but every swipe of your card reminded you of all you were putting up with to get it. 

What Rafe did to you, he did out of selfishness, no one who cared for you truly could treat you like he did. You certainly weren’t a couple like everyone in Rafe’s close circle assumed you were. You didn’t know much about relationships or what real love looked like, but you were certain of one thing: whatever you had with Rafe would never evolve into something warm and tender enough to be labeled as love. You were reclaiming some normalcy. Or at least, that was what you hoped for. 

The three of you had decided to move the party back to your apartment at 2 AM, and the city lights flickered like stars in the darkened sky. Imani, with her arm securely interlocked with yours, clung to you, her presence both comforting and grounding amidst the night’s chaos.

You squeezed into the backseat, chatter and laughter from the evening buzzed in your ears. Angel was making smalltalk with the driver because that was just the type of person she was. Closest to the window, you checked your phone for the first time all night. Three messages from Rafe. Your heart started to beat in the rattled way it had been, pressing against your ribcage in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. 

Two images of you. Outfits you’d sent him. Along with a message. 

For Monday and Tuesday. - R.C. 

Sent at ten the night before. Imani leaned closer and you locked your phone, shoving it between your legs. 

“He’s really texting you? It’s Saturday.”

“Sunday now,” You tried to not sound rattled as you met her eyes.

“Like that makes a difference,” You expected her tone to be light given the vodka on her breath and silly pop songs playing on the radio, “No wonder you’re going crazy.”

“Crazy?” You laughed but it came out hollow, “Y-You guys thought I was sad and now I’m going crazy?”

“Yes,” She spoke matter-of-factly, “And it’s strange that you won’t tell us anything about him.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” You said, realizing she wasn’t going to drop it.  You wondered if this was her plan, to get you drunk and then pry out all the gossip about your new boss.

“I’m really worried, Y/N,” She said, “You don’t have to tell us everything but at least … let us help. We can help, I promise.”

Angel tuned into the conversation, realizing it had gone serious, “Yeah, my Mom and Dad are literally cops, Y/N. Just say the word-” 

“I promise it’s not that serious, Angel,” you said, shaking your head. The idea of involving the police felt almost laughable given the magnitude of Rafe’s wealth and influence. “I told you g-g-g-guys, he’s just a demanding asshole.”

“If it’s not that serious than why has he been over at our apartment? If you’re not sleeping together or not dating?”

“It’s complicated,” You spoke robotically. 

“We want to be there for you,” Angel added. You wanted to believe that. If you told them the truth, you’d have to explain why you hadn’t walked away yet. Rafe had given you every reason to quit and yet here you were. 

“You guys are there for me. I-I-I appreciate this night so much. I’ve just b-b-b-been letting work consume me. You guys have pulled me out of my fog. This next wwww-week will be better because I’m actually taking care of myself.”

It was an excuse, a way to rationalize why you hadn’t walked away from Rafe yet. You started to believe it, convincing yourself that things would get better just because you were trying to take care of yourself now.

“Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he gets to have your body,” The world seemed to go quiet after Imani spoke those words. The music quieted and both you and Angel stared at her, the heavy silence enveloping the three of you. 

“She’s right, you know,” Angel said softly. 

How had she seen so clearly what you were trying to hide? Why were they prying into your life? You were an adult, after all. You should have the right to make your own decisions, however flawed they might seem to others. But their concern felt invasive, as if they were prying into a private struggle you were barely managing to keep under control.

Pity. 

Your best friends pitied you, “Oh, y-you’re not serious,” You smiled crazily, “He’s not …I’m nnn-n-not …you both have it so so wrong.”

They stared at you, trying to guage your reaction, but your heart and brain were going crazy. You couldn’t pick what emotion to convey because you were feeling all of them. 

“I’m drunk,” You rested your head back, “I’m so drunk.”

As the rideshare pulled up to your apartment building, you fumbled with your seatbelt, eager to escape the heavy conversation, “Y/N, we didn’t mean to upset you,” You heard Angel say at they followed you out of the car. 

“I’m okay. So okay.”

You wanted to hurry inside the lobby but felt a hand wrap around your arm, “Y/N,” Imani stopped you. 

You whipped your head around, panicked, “I’m fine. I sss-said I’m fine.”

“You boss’s car is parked over there.”

You followed her pointed finger, and your blood ran cold. There it was—Rafe’s sleek black car, parked conspicuously outside your building. “Wha—” you stammered, unable to process the sight of it, “Oh.”

“Why the fuck is he here?” Imani cursed. 

“I’ll meet you guys inside–”

“Go talk to him but we’re standing right here until you’re done,” Imani crossed her arms in front of her and gave you pointed look. 

“Angel,” You looked at you other friend, pleading. 

She shook her head, “We’re standing here, Y/N.”

“Fine,” You whispered. It was a quiet declaration of your frustration, a statement of your internal struggle. 

They didn’t trust you. You could take care of yourself. This would upset Rafe, you knew it would. You took a deep breath as you wandered towards the small parking lot beside your building. His bright truck lights shined against the brick of the building and you saw his arm resting outside the window, fingers drumming nervous on the frame. You pulled at your crop top, wanting to force it to be longer, as you got closer. 

“Y/N,” His voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge. 

Tonight, Rafe’s blue eyes were wild. Instead of the usual darkness you saw behind his pupils, you saw wildness. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his other hand was busy rubbing worried circles over his buzzed haircut, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen before.

“Rafe, wh-what are you doing out here?” You dropped the formalities. It felt wrong to address him with respect, more than it usually did, when he was sitting outside of your apartment at two in the morning. 

He looked you over once, before his door opened, and he climbed out. Dressed in a polo and khaki shorts, he left his car running, before he was standing in front of you. Only a foot away and already you weren’t breathing correctly. He moved closer but you said, “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Hurt, confused, he gave you a look you hadn’t seen before, “Why not?”

You gestured as subtly as you could, to your two friend who were settled under the awning that hung over your apartment buildings entrance, “My roommates are waiting for me.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, before his hands found his hips, “Right,” He nodded before he laughed, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel crazy tonight, you know?”

Yes, you knew. Now your crazy was starting to feel like nothing compared to whatever was building inside of your boss. He was different tonight, younger, and out of control, “What are you doing out here?” You asked again, “It’s two in the mmm-morning.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to show up like this. I just wanted to talk to you. I came earlier and you weren’t here and I … I started spiraling, you know? You’ve been out all night. I don’t like …I just felt fucking nervous.”

“Nervous b-because I went out with mmm-mmm-my friends?” Your words were cautious but you couldn’t help that your eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“I needed to see you.”

“You see me now,” You said, “What … what is it?”

Rafe took a breath, “I made a mistake at the cabin and I think, ever since then, you’ve been distant.”

You nodded as you tried to understand his meaning. He made a mistake when he spanked you with a belt, making two of his close acquaintances listen to you scream, and leaving you to cry yourself to sleep. The distance he now complained about was a direct result of his actions—a defense mechanism you’d put in place to protect yourself. And yet, here he was, expressing frustration over your response, as if your withdrawal was the real issue rather than his behavior.

“Rafe, honestly, this isn’t h-h-helping … I d-d-don’t know if I can handle this right now. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be,” You took a step back and you were comforted by the fact that he couldn’t take a step towards you. He wouldn’t make a scene, not in front of your roommates. Maybe you could forgive their intrusiveness. 

Rafe seemed to tense at your words and you watched as his eyes wandered down the sidewalk towards your friends, “Okay, uhm …they say something to you?” His voice carried a note of suspicion, as if their presence was somehow a direct affront to him.

“They’re my friends,” you replied tersely, hoping that would be the end of it. Of course your friends had expressed their concerns about him. 

“Okay,” Rafe said, his voice edged with frustration. “I just … I’m here because I want to fix things.”

“C-Can we talk about it on Monday, please?” You asked, “I’ve been-”

“You’ve been drinking,” He filled in your words, more unamused than before, “It’s not safe, little girl like you, only your friends to protect you … there’s lots of bad, bad people in this city.” 

The way he said "little girl" stung. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt more patronizing and condescending tonight.

“I can take care of myself,” you said firmly, taking another step back towards your building, trying to put more space between you and his imposing figure.

“Can you?” he taunted, the words heavy with mockery. “Alright, I’ll give you some space. You know what? Go ahead and take Monday off, you deserve it, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight,” You said before you turned away from him. You jumped when you heard his truck door slam close but you didn’t look back. 

Your friends, witnessing the tense exchange from the corner of the awning, approached you with concern written on their faces. Angel reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with worry.

“Fuck, that dude is crazy,” Imani said, “You have to quit. I’ll get another part time job. We both will while you look for something else. We’ll make it work.”

You should have cried in their arms, letting their comfort and love wash over you, but instead, all you felt was exhaustion and apathy. You didn’t have the energy to be comforted or to express your gratitude. Numb and drained, you trudged inside, your mind already longing for the softness of your pillow. Your friends followed quietly. 

Tuesday morning, your alarm didn’t wake you up. There was a pounding on your door before Imani stormed into your room. Heart racing, you lifted your head and checked your phone sitting on your side table. It was thirty minutes before your alarm was even supposed to go off, “What the-”

“Look!” Groggily, you sat up in your bed just as a crumpled white envelope was thrown at your chest. You held it up to the light trickling into your room from the window, and you easily saw red bold letters stamped across the top of the letter: EVICTION NOTICE. 

Without another thought, you ripped open the envelopement, “It’s probably a-a prank, Imani.”

“What is going on?” Angel stumbled into the room next, mouth full of foaming toothpaste. 

You held open the letter as you began to read carefully, “As per the terms of your lease agreement and in a-a-accordance with the state and local regulations, this letter serves as your official notice of eviction–”

“Fuck,” Imani cursed. 

“This decision has been mmmm-made in alignment with our current business strategy which includes renovating the apartment to increase its value and preparing the property for sale to a prospective buyer …”

“Someones buying our entire apartment building?” Angel asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is fucked,” Imani added. 

You continued reading, “The termination for your lease w-w-w-will be affected sixty days from the date of this notice. Please ensure thhh-that you vacate the premises by this date …”

You read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it. The signature at the bottom confirmed its legitimacy.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Imani sat down on the edge of your bed, head in the palm of her hands, “They can’t do this. It’s illegal! Where are we supposed to go?”

“Sixty days from now is right before the holidays start,” Angel leaned in the doorway, her eyes starting to well with tears, “I can’t go back home.”

Imani shook her head, “This apartment is my home.”

Determined, you climbed out of bed, pulling on the work clothes you had pre-selected. You kicked off your fuzzy socks, removed your bonnet, and began fixing your braids into a messy bun. “I’m going into the office,” you said resolutely. “I w-w-w-work for a real estate company. Rafe will know what to do. They can’t just do this. If anyone knows how to get out of this, he will.”

The two girls exchanged glances, their concern palpable. “We don’t need his help,” Imani said firmly.

“I don’t think I want it,” Angel added quietly.

You stared at them, incredulous. “He c-can help. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Y/N, is this really smart?” Angel asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“I can’t believe you guys. Get out, I’m getting ready,” you snapped, frustration rising. “Get out, now!”

As they left the room, their worried faces lingered in your mind, but you were focused on finding a solution.

Despite drunkenly conveying your uncertainties about your position with Rafe a few nights before, that morning, you were the epitome of perfection.  You wore exactly what he had chosen for you: a light blue dress embellished with sparkling sequins, pockets, and a Peter Pan collar. You even spent more than ten minutes putting on your makeup that morning, you looked flawless, more effort than you’d ever put in before.

You recited his entire schedule with only a slight stutter, had a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him at his desk, and arranged for lunch from one of his favorite restaurants. You allowed him to wrap his hand around your waist, to lean down and bury his face in your neck, to inhale your scent and press a gentle kiss against your skin.

It was like nothing had changed. Seeing Rafe outside of your apartment that night was frightening, a reminder of the presence he now had in your life, but you’d never seen him look so … desperate. Rafe Cameron was desperate for you, of all people. It dawned on you that perhaps there was room for negotiation. At the cabin, you had vehemently resisted his behavior, and his reaction had been explosively violent. But now, with him admitting to a mistake and showing a rare glimpse of vulnerability, you realized you might possess more leverage than you had previously imagined.

You spent the first few hours at work hyping yourself up to bring up the eviction notice to Rafe. All of his morning meetings went well and he didn’t have the usual cloud of darkness that was constantly over his head. When there was finally a lull in the day, you finally told him the news you’d learned that morning. However, his reaction made your face fall into a frown that you didn’t have the strength to correct.

“I’m not sure what the problem is. Don’t I pay you enough to be able to afford your own apartment?”

“My friends …” you began, struggling to find the right words. Mentioning your friends was wrong. You knew how he felt about the voices of reason in your life. 

“Right, your friends. What would you have me do?” His words continued to be indifferent and detached, as if he could want you so bad, but care nothing about the lives that were closest to you, “Offer them jobs? Pay for them to live as well?”

“No, that’s nnn-not what I mean,” It felt like he was purposefully miscontruing your words, and in turn, your character. Of course you didn’t expect for him to take care of your friends. Not letting him take advantage of the sea of emotions you were feeling, you recited your problem clearly, “I just want to know if you have any advice. For handling the situation. Something that’s in our control as tenants.”

“You don’t have much power at all, as tenants. You’re subject to the decisions made by the property management and the owners,” Before the reality of his words fully sunk in, he sighed, continuing, “You could look at your lease agreement and read it thoroughly to find any clauses that protect you. You could consult with a lawyer though that would be a pricy right to go down. You could talk to your landlord and try to get an extension to find a new place. That’s where I would start, sweetheart.”

Rafe’s hands folded together, looking up at you, as a smile graced his face. You nodded, “Okay,” You were grateful for a straight answer, but admittedly, you thought he would offer a better solution, “What should we look for in the lease? What would protect us?”

“Anything about early termination, language about renovations or changes in property management. Stipulations about how much notice is required before evicting you. If the landlord has violated any of those terms, it could be grounds for negotiation.”

“Huh,” you nodded, your heart filling with a small bit of hope, despite how out of reach some of his suggestions felt, “O-Okay, thank you. Yeah, I’ll t-t-talk to my roommates about it.”

“If it were me, I would be make sure I focused on my own safety and well being. You can’t really help your friends if you’re out on the street with them.” 

His words, rude and smart like always, stung but you didn’t dwell on them, “Thanks for the advice, sir.” 

For the rest of the morning, you shuffled between tasks and scrolling through your lease agreement. You searched it for the keywords that Rafe at mentioned and when that search wasn’t fruitful, you started to read it top to bottom. Your landlord was only required to give you sixty days notice for an eviction. You found absolutely nothing about property management changes. Hours passed and as lunchtime approach, you were sufficiently frustrated. 

You brought Rafe his lunch as he sat through a lunch time meeting but you made your way to the breakroom quickly afterwards.

Imani had called you a few time so you returned it. You’d texted your groupchat about all the steps that Rafe had mentioned. Imani had replied that he was probably withholding information. You weren’t quite sure why that idea hadn’t crossed your mind. 

“Hey, I still haven’t found anything–”

“Cameron Development is the one purchasing the apartment building, Y/N.”

Your heart sank and you plopped down on the breakroom’s leather couch with a heavy sigh, “Shit,” You whispered. 

“Shit is an understatement,” She replied, “Y/N, I’m starting to think you need to be really careful. Maybe we should go to the police.”

He’d lied to your face, unabashedly. 

"We'll talk about it later, I promise," You spoke before you hung up, not giving her a chance to argue.

It was much too late for careful. You should’ve ran after your first conversation with him but now … you were effectively trapped. Rafe had sex with you even when you didn’t want to. He hurt you and you held him for comfort after you. It had been weeks since you’d even felt like yourself. 

You leaned back to stare at the ceiling and you didn’t move for the next thirty minutes. Eleanor was the one who came to find you after you’d gone missing, “Y/N, Rafe’s been looking for you. What are you doing?”

“Did you know?” You asked her solemnly, your voice felt broken. 

She came to sit beside you and you felt her place a hand on your shoulder as she leaned closer, “Topper told me they rushed the deal. Offered twice the asking price. Said it was horrible idea, completely financially irresponsible, but Rafe insisted. ”

“Wh-What should I do?” You turned your head towards her, tears in your eyes, “I-I’ve never had sss-someone feel this way about me b-but th-this feels wrong.”

“What should you do?” She repeated, “I think he loves you.”

“L-Love?” You seemed to choke on the words. 

From what you could tell, it didn’t seem that Rafe was capable of loving anyone, “What does your gut tell you?”

This entire time, your gut had been telling you one thing, “T-To run?”

Even now, you were so unsure of yourself, “Makes sense, he’s suffocating you.”

You sat up in your spot, “Should I go now? Leave all my stuff? He p-paid for it, anyways.”

“I don’t think this is the time,” She squeezed your shoulder gently, her eyes soft as they fixed on you, “If you run, he’ll drag you back to his mansion kicking and screaming. Rafe just made this grand gesture to display his power. A huge fuck you to all the people you care about. He’s desperate. This is your time to get what you want from him. Tell him, you’re not going to be his little sex secretary anymore or follow him to the mountains, unless he changes.” 

“Y-You think he can change?”

“I didn’t think so before,” Eleanor said, her voice firm. “But now, seeing how desperate he is, I believe he’ll do anything to keep you.”

You could barely admit to yourself that part of you wished what she was saying was true. The notion that Rafe might have feelings for you, even if expressed through flawed and controlling actions, was both intoxicating and unsettling. Maybe you could take the bad with the good if the good started to outweigh the bad. But Rafe’s bad was more than bad. His soft gestures were often accompanied by demands and manipulations. 

There was no pros and cons list to be made. You looked at your situation objectively, Eleanor’s words having finally forced you to. If you ran, he’d come after you. If you ran, you’d have nothing. No apartment or salary to support yourself. You longed for a relationship where you felt safe and cared for and you wanted to live in a world where your friends were also taken care of. 

“I hope you’re not handling your personal business during workhours,” Rafe had said when you finally returned to the office. 

Ironic, given all the personal things you two had done together in that very office. 

“I’m not the one who made it personal,” You spoke easily, smoothly. 

You made your way to your desk. Your words seemed to bothered him but you didn’t glance at him long enough to take in his reaction. 

“And how did I make it personal?” You flipped through your personal calendar, taking a pen and marking down all of Rafe’s scheduled social events. 

“It’s not g-g-going to work. Using my friends to threaten me.”

“Oh?” That single word was dripping with venom.

“Just makes me think even www-worse of you. And I-I already had a poor opinion.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to look at him but you kept your eyes focused down, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your opinion of me?"

“B-Because I drive you crazy. Because I’m the one person y-you want to control completely.”

“Maybe I wanted to make things easier for you. Maybe I know that you’ll outgrow your little friends soon and you need a push in the right direction. You have friends in higher places now, you know that?”

“Y-You don’t like that they tell me to quit. That they know sss-somethings wrong with you.”

“You’re wrong,” He shot back.

“You’ve done a good job b-because now I can’t leave without losing everything,” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking. Finally, you turned your heads toward him. You saw the way his chair was towards you, the way his grip was tight on the armrests of his chair.

“Maybe I’ve been selfish.”

You scoffed at that, “You’ve mmm-made it clear that you don’t care about my needs or mmm-my feelings.”

“I know your feelings, sweetheart. You wear them so clearly,” Rafe replied, you could see it in his face that he was trying to keep his tone subdued He leaned foreward slightly, eyes as intense as ever, “Tell me what needs I haven’t tended to. Let me fix things, yeah?”

His offered seemed genuine and exactly what you were hoping for, weren’t you? 

“You really want to fix things?”

“Yeah,” He said like the crimes he’d committed against you were something that could remedied, “I can’t change what I don’t know.”

“It’s not just about what you’ve done wrong. It’s a-about how you handle things from now on,” You started, choosing your words carefully, “It’s about allowing mmm-mmme to set boundaries and respecting them.”

“Boundaries?” His head twisted to the side like he wasn’t entirely familiar with the term, “There’s multiple?”

“First, I want you t-to do what you can to remedy this apartment situation. Then, I don’t want you to ever bring my friends into this again.”

“Fine, I’ll get them another apartment. I’ll even throw in free rent.”

“No,” You shook your head, “You own the building which means you let us stay. No renovations.”

“I made an investment. I have to make a profit–”

“I’m serious,” You countered, “Y-Y-You made your point. You have all the mmm-money in the world and we have nothing in comparison.”

Rafe sighed, fingers tapping against his leg, “Okay, they stay but you come to live with me.”

“What? Why?” It was another layer of control, not a solution. 

“Your friends will want nothing to do with me or my help. If you continue to work for me, they won’t want anything to do with you either. If you want to maintain those relationships, some space would be better. Let them see you happy and they’ll come to their senses about our relationship.”

The implication of his words was clear. He was offering you a way to keep your friends, but it came with the price of further entangling your life with his. It felt like a manipulative trade-off.  You thought about the way he had manipulated you before, using your friends as leverage, and it made you wary of his intentions.

“I won’t say yes right now,” You decided, “Sss-sss-since we’re talking about living situations. Next year, I want to stay in Charlotte.”

“That won’t work.”

What had Eleanor told you to do? Had she forgotten how stubborn he was? 

“Y-You’re asking me to move across the state with you. I-It’s t-t-t-to much. There will have to be another arrangement.”

“Hmm, I won’t say yes right now,” he repeated your wording with an edge of mockery. You scowled, feeling the frustration build up inside you.

“You just sss-said you wanted to fix things.”

“My intentions … my intentions are to leave the city and spend the next few years settling down. I’m getting to a certain age and I’ve been thinking about, you know, getting married and having kids. It feels like the right time,” The information is a shock to you, not the thought of Rafe wanting a wife and kids, but knowing immediately he was implying that you’d be filling that role, “It’s a beautiful area. I wouldn’t expect you to continue your role there. You’d fully be a stay-at home wife, you could pursue any hobbies you wanted, and of course you’d have access to even more money than I’ve been paying you.”

Rafe began to paint a picture of a gilded cage. On the surface, it was tempting: a life of comfort, stability, and freedom from financial worries. But the price was your independence and autonomy. The thought of becoming a stay-at-home wife, completely reliant on him and cut off from your own life in Charlotte, was suffocating.

“What if I d-d-don’t want that life? W-What if I want my own career?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he leaned back in his chair, “What career do you want? I’ll give it to you. You can do practically anything from home these days. If you want to spend the first years doing that, fine, I’m not expecting kids right away.”

You hadn’t realized it but your breath was starting to quicken. You placed a hand over your chest, all of that resolve you had going into the conversation starting to fade away, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Rafe seemed to talk to himself, “Hey, hey, calm down.” 

Your breath came out in quick shallow breaths. Rafe’s proposal pressed down on you as the room started to spin. You felt his arms around you before you could fall from your chair, “Eleanor, I need you here,” You heard clearly. For the next moments, you could only hear their muffled talking. You remembered seeing both of them, panicked look on Eleanor’s face, a hand rubbing down your back. Rafe was talking to you, his eyes trained on you intently. You remembered a glass of water coming to your lips and you tilted your head back, welcoming the liquid, thinking it might quell the fire inside your mind. 

Though your thoughts still raced, the room’s spinning slowed down, and the you heard Rafe dsay, “It’ll help you feel better.”

He stayed with you, rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your thighs, “Thank you,” You whispered though you hated that you found comfort in his touch. A wave of drowsiness overcame you and despite your best efforts to stay alert, you felt yourself lean forward until you were fully in Rafe’s arms, “Rafe–”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Rest,” Rafe murmured, his voice soft and reassuring as he held you close.

This got too long, gonna have to make another part! Pls pls pls reblog and let me know your thoughts and predictions!

[penkura]

OP Men as Dads Part 3

Note: Part 3, Part 3!! I was asked by someone on AO3 to add Luffy, so I did that! I still view Luffy more as a brother or son, so I still don't expect to write anything romantic for him, but this I can do! I hope you all enjoy!

Franky probably didn’t even think he’d ever get the chance to have kids, not after the train accident you know, but he’s excited for it! You’d have two boys around three to four years apart that are just like Franky in every way, but the older would be a bit more shy than the younger. They’ll both spend a lot of time with Franky in his workshop when they get old enough, they’ve got a knack for shipwright work and it almost brings a tear to Franky’s eye to see them sketching their own ship designs on whatever scraps of paper they can find. Your boys love you too of course! The two will bring their drawings to show you and ask your opinion, you have to tell them everything on your mind or they won’t go back to drawing, mama’s thoughts matter! It becomes family time to go over the sketches your boys made during the day, they want to do you and Franky proud in everything, but nothing they do could ever make you love them less.

~~

Katakuri has planned to have kids for a while, even though he’s already 48, he still wants to have a few and be a father to them. He’ll raise them differently from how he was raised, but still love them dearly and want only the best for them! You’ll both be surprised when you only have one first, a little girl who has Katakuri wrapped around her finger as soon as she’s born and handed to him. She’s so tiny, he’d be content to have just her if she’s all you were blessed with. Fast forward five years and there’s a set of wailing triplets that you also didn’t expect to have, but the three boys are more than you ever could’ve asked for and their big sister loves them just as quickly. She begs to see them as soon as their born, Katakuri brings her by that day to see you and them, and she has to gold all three in a row immediately. After that, a set of twin girls comes along a few years later, your oldest isn’t the only girl anymore and she’s still just as happy to have new siblings at around ten-years-old, your five-year-old set of triplets also excited. Katakuri loves and thanks you so much for the family you’ve made with him, even if you tell him your twin girls are it, you’re done. He's happy with what you have, grateful for your love and children.

~~

Killer is absolutely a great dad, you couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be your partner and father to your children. You have a boy first off, with your eyes and blond hair, he wants to be just like his dad when he grows up! A couple years later comes a little girl, she’s a surprise but a pleasant one at that. You didn’t really expect her to have Killer wrapped around her finger in a heartbeat but the second he saw her it was over, he became wholly devoted to your little girl and making sure she was happy as could be. You’ve come back to your family multiple times seeing Killer either having a tea party with your daughter or playing some make believe game with both your children, he normally plays the damsel in distress for their enjoyment. Your kids can see people act oddly around Killer when they recognize him, but neither of them care to know why, they’re still quite young, and they only care that they’re dad loves and takes care of them alongside you. All that matters to them is that Killer is around to play with them and eventually start teaching them to protect themselves.

~~

Luffy would be the fun dad, no doubt in my mind! Like how Ace would have three daughters, I can see Luffy having three sons! Probably twins at first, then another son a couple years later, the three having the same dynamic that he had with Sabo and Ace when they were kids! They’d all look like Luffy, except your middle child would have your eyes, a small piece that shows yes, you’re the mother to these three rugrats. All three dream of being pirates, its their favorite game to plan, especially so since their dad is King of the Pirates. After all, who better to tell you how the pirate life works than him?? With all of the Straw Hats around, your sons would be protect from the moment they hear you’re pregnant, everyone being the best aunts and uncles around as soon as they’re born. Luffy would be the most protective of course, but he’d still give your sons the freedom to do what they want and to grow and learn how the world works. Being a pirate is about freedom, isn’t it? Your sons will never have to wonder if they’re loved or wanted, everything you and Luffy do is for them.

~~

I honestly see Mihawk with one child, a daughter. She’d be an unexpected blessing that has him around her tiny finger the moment she takes her first breath. He’d never let her, or you of course, out of his sight, unless he absolutely had to go to a Warlord meeting or something like that. When Zoro and Perona show up, they’re both flabbergasted that the Dracule Mihawk has a child, and that she’s a cute baby girl, only a few months old! Perona will try to dress her up in frilly dresses but your daughter will cry, which ends with Mihawk taking her back and demanding Perona stop using his daughter like a dress up doll. The funny thing is, your daughter will be absolutely enthralled with Zoro, she’ll fuss until he holds her, sometimes he’s the only one who can get her down for a nap or to sleep at night. The number of times Mihawk has caught Zoro training with your daughter strapped to his back or the two napping together warms his heart, maybe having the two freeloaders around isn’t so bad.

~~

Sabo never thought too much about having kids. It was a nice idea, but he didn’t have any strong opinions about it. Then of course, you showed up and he started to have dreamy ideas of his own family and children with you as the mother. Your first is a little girl, blonde as her dad and just as rambunctious. She’ll chase down everyone that she can’t to play with her and grab their attention for whatever story she’s made up, Sabo especially listens intently to her, giving her a smile, asking questions, and responding to everything she says positively. After your daughter comes two boys, one after the other just a couple years apart, and both times Sabo can’t believe he’s so lucky to have you and your children. Your sons look more like you, though your youngest has Sabo’s hair just like your daughter. He’s more shy than either of his siblings, but with Sabo he’s more open and talkative. Your first son may be the middle child, but he’s also the one who becomes more interested in the Revolutionary Army’s work. Although Sabo knows that all of them may become interested one day, wanting to join, he hopes that their work can be completed first and your children will be able to love safe, comfortable lives as they grow up.

[f1angelz]

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 — lewis hamilton x f!reader

summary: Y/N has developed a habit of crying every night due to her emotional distress. Lewis finds out about her little secret after one night of hearing her sobs. Inspired by the song “When She Cries” by Restless Heart.

content warnings: none, just kinda sad!

i wrote this when i felt super down one night 🥲 i was overthinking abt my future, and the song that inspired this fic is so close to my heart. i hope you guys like this !!

── .✦

The past few months have been hard.

Y/N didn’t really feel like herself— at all. No matter how hard she tried to, it just wasn’t happening. Her fears were constantly eating her thoughts, creating an emotional mess that she didn’t know was possible.

Everyday she would wake up in the morning and try her best to repress her thoughts with a splash of cold water on her face, and a morning kiss or text from her boyfriend, Lewis.

God knew how much she wanted to open up to Lewis, but she couldn’t— too afraid to show her vulnerable side. Especially with Lewis being busy with races and all, she didn’t want him to be burdened with her emotional and mental problems.

So she hid it.

And when all the world is sleeping, she remains awake with tears flowing from her eyes and muffled sobs on the living room couch.

It was a frequent occurrence, even when Lewis was home for the off-season.

Once she feels like Lewis has drifted off to sleep, she’d sneak out of bed and place a pillow in replacement for her presence and leaves the bedroom quietly.

As soon as she shuts the door, her eyes start to sting and well up with tears— becoming uncontrollable for the next few moments.

There she sits on the couch with a dimly lit lamp, staring blankly at the balcony view of the night sky. With each tear and sob she let out, it was a temporary solution for the pain her thoughts were causing her.

After a few hours, she’d crawl back into bed and wake up the next morning like nothing happened. Yet a part of her thoughts still remain, ready to be cried out when the night comes.

She hoped that Lewis wouldn’t find out about her. Her vulnerability.

But of course, Lewis wasn’t dumb.

When she cries, a part of him shatters completely. It made him question himself as a partner— did he do something wrong? Was he treating her right?

It was only a matter of weeks, even days for Lewis to find out. As much as Lewis wanted to help, he didn’t want to scare her away. That was the last thing he’d want to happen.

Instead, he says a little prayer on behalf of her— that her pain goes away and she may finally find whatever she needed to keep her mind and heart at ease. But as each passing night comes by, her sobs grow louder and the pain in his chest was slowly becoming unbearable.

There was one night where he really, really couldn’t take the pain of hearing her sobs. It shattered him to the core.

So he peels himself out of the sheets and leaves bed, ignoring whatever time it probably was.

He quietly opens the door and sees her on the couch, curled up with a pillow on her chest.

Y/N is quick to wipe her tears away and plaster a smile on her face, trying her best to conceal the pain.

“O-Oh! Hey, I’m sorry I left bed, I just went out to drink a glass of water in the kitchen, then I decided to stay out here for a while.” She said in between sniffles, voice hoarse, ever so obvious that she just cried.

Lewis sighs, looking at her with sympathy. He walks towards the couch and sits beside her, taking a good look.

Though the lamp was dim, he could clearly see her swollen eyes— evident that she had been crying for hours.

Y/N knew that he wouldn’t believe her very smart lie, her face gave it all away.

Without saying anything, Lewis takes her into his arms.

She felt her eyes stinging, blurring her vision as tears formed once more.

“Please tell me what’s going on, my love. It pains me to hear your cry every night..”

Y/N’s tears fall down even more, now unable to hide her vulnerability.

She sobs and Lewis holds her even tighter, stroking her arm to calm her down.

“It’s okay, let it all out. Talk to me when you’re ready.” He rests his chin on her head while his heart still aches from the oblivion of her tears.

She didn’t know what to do at that moment. Obviously, there was no point in lying about her state anymore, it would just add fuel to fire. She felt trapped, knowing that she’d have to tell Lewis about her little secret for the past few months.

But how?

Her emotions were all over the place. Words were stuck in her throat like a clogged pipe, unable to make its way out no matter how hard she tried.

“L-lew..” She manages to say in a small voice, her chest heaving up and down to catch her breath. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and fidgeting fingers, “Yes, my love?” His gaze softens, hand over hers to ease her trembling.

“It’s so h-hard..”

Lewis places a kiss on her forehead, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me now. Take your time.”

She nods, still trembling.

“Whatever it is you’re going through now, I’m here. I know it hurts, love. I hear you every night trying to keep your sobs down, but your pain is evident. If you’ll let me, I’ll ease it for you.”

“B-but I don— hick— ‘n wanna be a burden.. You’re s-so— hick— b-busy with racing, m-my— hick— p-problems shouldn’t be y-yours..”

“Oh, my love, you will never be a burden for me.. We’re a team, remember? When one is down, the other one helps them get back on their feet— and I’m the one who’s doing that now.” Lewis places a hand on her cheek, wiping her tears away.

“I’m always here no matter what. No rush, okay? Whenever you’re ready, my love.”

He gives a reassuring smile, kissing her forehead once more.

Her heart feels a little bit lighter with Lewis’ words, tears have stopped falling yet her breath was still recovering.

They fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s embrace.

Ever since then, not a single tear was shed at night.

── .✦

[imfinereallyy]

Eddie’s on the couch shirtless, and Steve is having a full-on crisis.

Eddie’s bare chest is on full display on Robin and Steve’s couch, and Steve is having a full-blown, how did this not click til now, crisis.

Steve knows he’s staring. Knows he needs to stop staring. Eddie is going on a rant to them, something about society or something metal (he got distracted when Eddie whipped his shirt off), and Steve should really pay attention because he knows Eddie is going to quiz him after.

For someone who hates school so much, Eddie sure likes to test Steve.

Robin comes up behind Steve, slurping her slushy. “Oh no. I know that face. It finally caught up to you, didn’t it?”

Steve breaks his state to give Robin a wide-eyed look. “What—how—I—“ Steve’s shoulders sag; there is no point in hiding from Robin. “How’d you know?”

“Please, babe, I’ve been waiting. Glad to know you actually sped-run this. Was thinking you were going to pull a me and wait til Jenny Rodriguez asks to practice the stage kiss with you before you realized.”

“I have so many questions.”

“Don’t bother; nothing happened except me falling off the stage at rehearsal.”

Steve laughs but then chokes when he glances back at Eddie. “I think my brain just exploded, Robs. What do I do?”

Robin pats his back sympathetically, “There, there. Nothing you can do, bud. Just got to ride the gay thoughts wave.”

Steve makes a distressed noise. Robin rubs circles on his back.

Eddie interrupts their moment (clueless to the evident lesbian bisexual solidarity happening), “So what do you guys think? Should I get the sword here?” Eddie drags his hand slowly down his sternum.

“I need you to take it back.” Steve whips his head torwards Robin.

“Take it back?”

“The crisis, take it back.” Steve all but begs Robin.

“Sorry, there is a no refund policy. You can use it or push it to the side; it’s up to you. But either way, that baby is yours.” Robin uses her straw to emphasize her point.

Eddie tilts his head confused, “Uuuh guys? The tattoo?”

Steve waits a moment before responding. “Good.”

“I’m going to need more than that Stevie.”

“Good. Will look good on you. Anything looks good on you.” Steve has to resist shoving his face into his hands. He can feel the rush of heat up to his cheeks.

Eddie’s face breaks into a brilliant, and a little smug, smile. “Awe, thanks, sweetheart. Glad to know I got the Harrington approval.”

“You don’t need my approval to look good.” Steve was going to throw himself off the roof of their apartment. That didn’t even make any sense.

Eddie snorts, “Okay big boy. Whatever you say.”

It comes off flirtier than Steve thought a sarcastic comment could be. This time instead of responding, Steve just caves into the embarrassment, turns around, and starts lightly thumping his head into the wall.

“Eddie, c’mon, you broke him! Now I’m going to have to reboot him…again.”

Steve doesn’t see his face but doesn’t have to look to know that Eddie’s face is downright giddy. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t think he’s very sorry at all.

[jjkamochoso]

JJK Men When You Tell Them Your Partner Cheated on You

Angst, fluff

Request from Wattpad

JJK Men x gn!reader

Warnings: slight cussing

Yuji:

“Hey, y/n! I haven’t see you around in a while, how have you been?”

Yuji came trotting toward you as you were picking out a snack from the school’s vending machine. It was the weekend so you were in your casual clothes, but your outfit consisted of an old pair of sweats and a beat up sweatshirt—nothing you wanted to be seen in. You weren’t planning on running into anyone and you weren’t in the mood for chatting, but Yuji walked much too fast and you weren’t about to leave without your food.

“I’ve been, uh, better, that’s for sure,” you said, trying to keep yourself together.

He knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s going on? Do you wanna talk about it?”

You sighed, watching the plastic packet fall behind the glass. “I broke up with my partner. They cheated on me.”

Yuji immediately scooped you into a tight hug. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

After a few long seconds of being comforted in his arms, he pulled away.

“You don’t deserve that,” he said firmly. “You’re such a good person with a big heart and they messed up big time for not seeing what they had in front of them.”

“Thank you, Yuji,” you said, wiping away stray tears.

“Of course,” he replied, smiling softly. “Do you wanna come hang out with me? We can talk about it or I can get your mind off it. I don’t mean to brag but I’m pretty good at distracting people.”

You cracked a smile for the first time in days. “I would love that. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, y/n.”

Megumi:

Megumi was walking the grounds of the school when he heard someone crying behind one of the large trees. Not wanting to leave a person in distress, he came upon your disheveled form.

“Are you… okay?” he asked lamely, gaining your attention.

“No,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “I just found out my partner’s been cheating on me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

You just sniffled in response while Megumi cringed at his generic reply to you. He wanted to make you feel better but comforting words were never his strong suit. He was about to leave but hesitated, deciding instead to do what he wished someone would do for him in that situation: he sat beside you in silence so you weren’t alone.

“It’s not your fault,” he said all of a sudden, staring off into the distance. You turned toward him in surprise, tears staining your cheeks.

He then looked at you, a fire raging in his eyes. “Anyone who cheats is a bad person. I just… I need you to understand that their actions had nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do. They’re in the wrong, not you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “I actually really needed to hear that. Thank you.”

He nodded, looking away again.

"I'm always here for you," he murmured. "Remember that."

Yuta:

Yuta cautiously approached the door to your room, his hand folded into a nervous fist as he hesitantly knocked on your door, hoping you wouldn't be upset at his intrusion.

"Who is it?" you called out from the inside.

"Yuta."

He heard footsteps as the door cracked opened, revealing a small glimpse of your saddened expression.

"I know I probably shouldn't bother you right now but I saw you were upset earlier so I brought you these," he said hurriedly, presenting you with a few of the wildflowers that grew on campus. For the millionth time today, an onslaught of tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but this time it was from his sweet gesture.

"I appreciate this more than you could ever know," you said, throwing yourself into his arms for a hug you desperately needed. "Thank you."

"I'm here for you, whatever you need," he said softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"My partner cheated on me so I broke it off," you told him, inviting him inside.

"That's horrible, y/n, I'm so sorry. I can't believe they would do that to you. You deserve so much more than someone who disrespects you and the very essence of love."

"I should send Rika to deliver a message of what happens when you mess with people's hearts," you joked, but Yuta's eyes lit up in a manner that concerned you a bit.

"Do you want me to?" he asked earnestly.

"No, no, I was kidding."

"Oh. Well, if you change your mind, just let me know!" he exclaimed brightly.

Inumaki:

After you found out your partner cheated on you, you immediately went to the one person you knew could make you feel better.

Do you want me to buy you a container of ice cream that you can sob into while we watch sappy movies? read the note Toge typed to you on his phone.

"You think you're so funny, don't you," you told him, slowly emerging from the pity party you were throwing yourself as he lifted your spirits.

Another note. I know I am. I also really want ice cream so this is the perfect excuse.

"Why did I come here again?" you questioned. You finally let out a laugh you had been holding in at the annoyed face he gave you. He quickly began typing on his phone once more.

Seriously tho, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. Is there anything I can do to help?

His big eyes shone with concern as he watched you read the words he wished he could say. When you were done reading, you wrapped him in a tight hug.

“This is more than enough. Thank you for being here for me.”

You felt him hold on to you a little tighter, giving you a sense of comfort you never had from your ex.

“Salmon.”

Noritoshi:

You were currently crying by one of the koi ponds on campus, your knees curled to your chest as you let the tears stream down your face. You didn’t register footsteps behind you until you heard a voice speak up.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Noritoshi had found you! You looked up and you were sure you appeared pitiful.

“My partner cheated on me,” you said between shuttering breaths. He was by your side in an instant with an arm around your shoulder.

“Are you serious? They should be ashamed of themselves,” he said, voice full of spite. “I’m sorry you were unknowingly dating someone with such a lack of morals. And obviously no brain.”

“This sucks,” you sniffled, wiping your nose. Noritoshi pulled you in closer to his side.

“It hurts now, and I’m sure it’ll sting for a long time after, but you’re strong. I know you’ll get over them soon enough. In the meantime, I’m here to help in any way I can.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Todo:

You were hanging out with Aoi, laughing at a joke with your close friend when you got a text from an unknown number with pictures of your ex cheating on you. Your face fell as you studied the evidence, obviously hurt.

“Whatever that is, I’m assuming it isn’t good,” Aoi said to you, noticing your change in demeanor.

You practically shoved the phone in his face. “It’s my soon to be ex with someone else.”

“That is so wrong and completely unacceptable,” he said, furrowing his brow upon seeing the picture. “At least now you know and you won’t waste any more time on them.”

He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But don’t let this unfortunate incident stop you from finding love again! There’s plenty of people who will treat with you the love and respect you’re worthy of.”

“Thanks, Aoi,” you replied, still glancing at the photo. Aoi plucked the phone from your hand, keeping it out of your reach.

“What you’re not going to do is keep looking at that loser. Let’s go do something fun and forget about them.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “And maybe take some pictures of our own to show them what they’re missing.”

You were also sporting an excited grin. “I’ll go get changed.”

Ino:

“Look what I brought- woah, hey, you alright?!” Ino exclaimed, dropping the pastry box on the nearest table and rushing toward you. You were working in your office when a rush of emotion overcame you as you remembered the fact that your partner cheated on you. You had missed the text from Ino saying he was stopping by and so you hadn’t taken the time to compose yourself before he walked in on you almost sobbing. You sniffed loudly, wiping your face as fast as you could.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Pastries, thanks-”

“Not so fast,” Ino said, blocking you from the box. “Tell me what’s going on first.”

You sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s enough to bother you like this.”

“My partner… they cheated on me and so I’ve been feeling… well, you can tell how I’m feeling,” you answered quietly.

“I’m glad I brought dessert for breakfast then,” replied Ino, giving you the box and a sympathetic expression. “That’s really crappy of them. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you have time? I don’t want to keep you from Nanami too long.”

“He’ll survive,” Ino said with his signature boyish smile, reaching for his own pastry. He gave you another grin, this time with his lips covered in powdered sugar.

“I’m all ears.”

Gojo:

You were picking at your lunch in the teacher’s lounge, not in the mood to eat even though you still had classes left to teach and you needed energy to get through the day. You had just learned of your partner cheating on you and they kept texting you, asking to talk and begging for forgiveness. You angrily slammed your phone against the table and felt the warmth of tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Irritated to no end, you put your head in your hands and tried to keep your breathing steady. All of a sudden, you felt someone looming over you.

Satoru lifted his blindfold, one bright blue eye blinking at you. “You cryin’?”

“Not in the mood, Satoru,” you grumbled, wiping away a single stray tear.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I was joking,” he said upon seeing you were actually in distress. He sat next to you, encroaching on your personal space with a lithe finger poking your nose. “Talk to me.”

“My partner-”

“Blegh.”

You shot him a look of warning to keep him quiet. “My—you’ll be happy to hear this—ex partner cheated on me and now won’t leave me alone. They’re calling so much I can’t even make it to the block button.”

You showed him your phone that was ringing off the hook.

He hummed, taking it from you. “Is all your data backed up somewhere?”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Yeah, everything I need is on my computer, why?”

Satoru dropped your phone on the ground and stepped on it, effectively silencing it as the screen shattered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, casually smiling at you.

“I’ll buy you a new one after your last class,” he called from over his shoulder as he strolled away. It was an unconventional form of comfort, sure, but it made you feel better nonetheless.

Geto:

Suguru had invited you out for a walk after noticing you hadn’t been answering his texts and phone calls with your usual vigor. He was curious about the change in your behavior and wanted to get to the bottom of it, which was exactly what was happening right then.

“My partner cheated on me and I broke up with them. It’s been so hard,” you choked out, crying softly.

“A lovely face like yours shouldn’t be ruined by so many tears,” purred Suguru as he handed you a handkerchief. You took it gratefully, dabbing at your cheeks.

“They’re scum. Forget about them, y/n, you’re better in each and every way. If they couldn’t see the beauty in front of them, that’s their loss. You should be grateful that now you have the opportunity to date someone who actually meets your standards.”

You looked away, blowing your nose in a tissue. When you turned back toward Suguru, he had picked one of the wildflowers that was growing next to the path and tucked it behind your ear.

“See? I bet your ex never did that for you,” he smirked.

“You’d be correct.”

“You poor, mistreated thing,” he said airily. “You really were dating the bottom of the barrel. I always thought you were much too attractive to have such an unsightly partner.”

You tilted your head. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Or am I just showing you what you’ve missed out on all this time?” he asked. You shook your head at his antics, smiling at the way he’s made you feel so much better already. As you kept walking, Suguru paused to study you for a moment.

“Hm. Their loss, indeed.”

Nanami:

“You sure hang around here a lot for not being a teacher,” you teased a certain blonde who was standing in the doorway of your classroom.

“I, unfortunately, had to meet with Gojo,” he sighed. “I also heard the bad news. I’m sorry about you and your partner.”

“Who told you? Satoru or Itadori?”

“Kugisaki.”

“She does love to gossip,” you murmured before addressing Kento at your normal voice volume. “It’s been hard but it’s nothing I can’t handle. The whole cheating thing is hard to wrap my head around sometimes though.”

Kento’s eyebrows raised. “No one told me anything about cheating.”

“That’s the main reason we broke up,” you said, biting your lip to keep from breaking down.

“Y/n, I’m sorry you had to go through that. Your heart doesn’t deserve that kind of cruelty. I wish I had more comforting words but this might be a wound only time can heal. I just want you to know that I’m available to help you in any way that you deem necessary.”

“I’m grateful for you, Kento, truly,” you said, giving him a sincere smile before checking your watch.

“It’s time for me to head out. Do you want to come to dinner with me?”

“That sounds lovely. I know a place with a large selection of wine that may take your mind off things for a little while.”

Choso:

When you called Choso and asked if he could come over to comfort you after your breakup, you weren’t expecting him to arrive with copious amounts of snacks, but you weren’t mad about it.

“Yuji told me this what people usually like to eat after going through something like that,” he confessed, opening a bag of candies for you.

“He’s wise for being so young,” you replied, grabbing a handful from him.

“So what happened between you and your partner anyway? You two seemed so happy,” Choso wondered.

“They cheated on me,” you told him, your heart still hurting from the betrayal. He stood abruptly, clearly shocked at what you said.

“They cheated on you? How dare they!” You knew Choso was protective of the people he loved but he was absolutely fuming in a way you hadn’t seen before. “Where do you think they are right now? They need to learn that’s unacceptable.”

“Choso, you can’t just assault my ex,” you said, exasperated.

“Why not? They disrespected you, didn’t they?” he asked, clearly confused.

“They did, and while I appreciate your willingness to throw hands for me, I don’t have the money or energy to bail you out of jail.”

He frowned and sat back down. “Is there another way I can help instead?”

“Maybe just be a good listener as I vent?” you suggested.

He sent a kindhearted smile your way. “I can definitely do that.”

Toji:

“What’s got you so desperate to see me?”

You rolled your eyes as you heard Toji finally arrive to the cafe you invited him to.

“Am I a bad person for wanting to meet with a friend?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink you’d ordered while waiting. Toji gave his order to the waiter and then smirked at you.

“No. I just hope you’re payin’.”

You shot him a look and he chuckled.

“I’m only kidding. But seriously, what’s got you in a mood?”

“My partner cheated on me. I think I’m allowed to be a little pissed off.”

Toji casually leaned back in his chair. “I told you they were no good.”

You scowled at him. “Not helping.”

Toji sighed. “Look, I’m sorry that happened to you and your ex is an idiot for not seeing what they had in front of them. Better they’re gone, though, if they’re that stupid.”

“I guess you’re right. Thanks,” you said, fidgeting with your straw. Toji leaned forward, grasping your moving hand.

“I mean it, y/n. You’re way too hot to be moping around over someone like them. You deserve someone who will treat you better and not take you for granted.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure there’s someone like that out there for me?”

Toji squeezed your hand and sent you a playful wink. “I know a guy who’s willing to take you on a date right now and prove it to ya.”

You started the day with one partner and ended the day with different one; this time, though, you knew for sure that you were going to be treated right!