#I’m so sick of the ‘ be grateful toxicity’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

httpsserene · 8 months ago

Note

can you do a smau if you want where the reader is a driver and makes music on the side (music like sza or Megan thee stallion and kaliii) and she makes a music video for area codes and all her other music and it has the drivers in it

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 (𝐟𝟏) - 𝐲𝐧. 𝟎

summary: you make hit songs when you’re not driving a formula one car. your fellow drivers love to feature in your music videos. content warning: driver!reader makes music. toxic internet culture. profanity. hateful comments. attempt at humor. fluffy. light angst ig. there's no specific face claim, just pretty black women! ex-haas driver, current aston martin driver!reader. reader is american. seb retires in 2021, fernando is on the grid just not with aston martin. nikita mazepin mention lol. lando norris and george russell get bullied (humor). light british slander. no plot just vibes. pairing: platonic f1 grid x fem!black!driver!reader genre: smau.

from serene: i have a disease and it's called "being unable to make a normal length smau." it's a sickness, idk if i'll ever be abl to fulfill a request without the plot running away from me. anyways, enjoy loves xxx

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yn ln signs multi-year contract with aston martin • espn f1 • 2021 post-season

ESPN F1 yn ln has signed a multi-year contract with Aston Martin! The American driver completes the team’s lineup with Lance Stroll. Even though she was an F4, F3, and GP3 Champion, and she won the F2 Championship on her first try with Prema; her F1 career began with unexpected opportunities and last-minute substitutions—becoming a reserve driver for Haas and filling in for Romain Grosjean after his accident in 2020, and then replacing Nikita Mazepin halfway through the 2021 F1 season—an official seat of her own in Formula One was a long time coming and well deserved. Congratulations to yn ln, the first Black woman to race in Formula One!

instagram • yn0 • 2022 pre-season

liked by astonmartinf1, lewishamilton, maxverstappen, sza, and 3,451,967 others

yn0: i have always believed that being an f1 driver would become my reality. it was a never a dream to me because i KNEW i was going to make it here. i’m incredibly thankful to haas for giving my first chance to race in the big league and i will miss all the incredible people who helped me grow and improve while i was there. however, i am extremely grateful and excited to have a seat of my own at aston martin in 2022 and onward. some critics have called me "conceited" to bet on myself, so i made a song just for them < 3

tagged astonmartinf1

view comments

yn0 on sundays, we wear green 💚

➥ user1 you're an inspiration to all women in motorsport, especially women of color 💚💚💚

➥ user2 praying that your aston is quicker than your haas! prove the haters wrong 😤

astonmartinf1: we'll bet on you every race! can't wait to play this in the garage 💚

haasf1team: take care of our songbird 🥲

➥ haasf1team: and keep the tea and honey STOCKED for her vocal cords

➥ user3: i’m gonna cry :(

user4: yeah who paid for her seat? no way she got it off skill. she's never been above p12. f1 has changed for the worse now that a woman's out there. she's a hazard.

➥ user5: incel mindset 😒

➥ user6: bro she was in a haas. reaching p12 in that car is enough of an achievement. better than mazepin ever did, even with his daddy's money 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: LFG 💪🏽💪🏽💪🏽 can't wait to see you in the paddock

➥ yn0: lfgggggg 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

➥ yn0: i wouldn't be racing at all if i didn't see you do it first :)

sebastianvettel: prove them all wrong and never apologize for it.

➥ yn0: i learned from the best 🥹 happy retirement, seb!

mickschumacher: "no reason to make friends, i'm cool"??? is that line about somebody else or should i be worried 🤨

➥ maxverstappen: yeah let us know 🙄 your seat on the jet can be revoked

➥ yn0: bros...we all know who it's really about

➥ user8: you can say it's about mazepin nobody will be mad at that 🤗🤗🤗

landonorris: wish it was papaya, but i can't wait to see you in green!

➥ yn0: you know what?i think I CAN wait

➥ yn0: i'm actually going to quit f1 rn i think 😐

➥ user9: lando stop, get some help

lancestroll: hi teammate!

➥ yn0: hi teammate!

➥ user6: oh,,, this is awkward

charlesleclerc: finally 🙌🏻 i thought you would never drop this song

➥ yn0: the music is more important than my f1 seat to you 🙂

➥ charlesleclerc: encore encore encore 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

georgerussell: i would be happy for you if i didn't know this meant you'll be bullying me every race weekend

➥ alexalbon: she smells your fear which makes you an easy target

➥ alexalbon: CONGRATSSS 🥳🥳🥳🥳

➥ yn0: 🤭

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, megantheestallion, and 2,191,042 others

yn0: thee "cognac queen" learns how to celebrate their FIRST EVER f1 points in italy with their honorary prince 🇮🇹 im in my gacccc, i wanna danceeee, come get yo man, come getcho maaaannnnn 🍾🍾🍾

tagged charlesleclerc

view comments

user10: WOOOOOAH WHATS ABOUT TO PLAY 😳

➥ user11: she PUT IT ON HIM last night apparently 🫣

➥ user12: he calling her BACK TO BACK????

astonmartinf1: you only win first points once but you only have one liver. please show up to the paddock next week 🥴

➥ yn0: don't worry admin i'll be there bright and early!

➥ user13: drink responsibly kids alcohol poisoning is not fun

➥ user14: aston martin shouldn't stress. it sounds like charles took very good care of her 😏😏😏

user15: i feel like i shouldn't be allowed to watch that video (i'm 23)

➥ user16: they were having a tiiiiiiiiime out in italy 🫦

➥ user17: if she was all over me like she was on charles i would be asking about marriage. he's so much stronger than i am 🙂‍↔️

charlesleclerc: went courvoisier crazyyyy

➥ charlesleclerc: je suis très fière de toi (i'm very proud of you) ❤️

➥ yn0: thank you charlieee (for the mv too x) 😚

➥ user18: oh so she really got charles thinking that he's her man???

➥ user19: you were DOGGING it? i didn’t know charles had it in him 🐶🐶🐶

user20: ew this is gross. charles is in a happy relationship and we're all going to pretend like yn isn't a homewrecker???

➥ user21: i was waiting to see this comment! this is like proof she used her body to get on the grid 👀

mickschumacher: no way you put charles in a video before me...i thought we were locked in 😞

➥ yn0: mick be so for real. you hate cognac :(

➥ user22: mick said we suffered through haas together and you already forgot about me

landonorris: are you looking for a cognac king?

➥ alexalbon: boys point and laugh 🫵🏼🤣

➥ charlesleclerc: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ maxverstappen: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ georgerussell: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ mickschumacher: 🫵🏻🤣🤣🤣💀

➥ user23: 🫵🏾🤣

lewishamilton: xnda feature when you make it on the podium

➥ yn0: i'll be up there next week.

➥ user24: bring back xnda girl !!! for all of us 🙇🏽‍♀️

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by alexalbon, astonmartinf1, maxverstappen, sza, and 4,233,761 others

yn0: my girl is my girl, is your girl, heard that's his girl too...he's like 9 to 5, i'm "the weekend"

tagged alexalbon, lilymhe

view comments

astonmartinf1: highest race finish of your career can you drop a fire song to celebrate 🥵

➥ lancestroll: team karaoke when????

➥ yn0: make it happen and i will show out for y'all 💯

user25: this video was funny af! my favorite song from you so far 😁

➥ user26: yessss i was not expecting her to flip the song in the video like that 🤌🏻💋

➥ user27: the premise of her and alex fighting over lily was perfect 👌🏽

lilymhe: make me lose my mind every weekend 😮‍💨

➥ alexalbon: you take wednesday thurday 🧎🏼‍♂️‍➡️

➥ yn0: then just send her my wayyyyy 🤤

➥ user28: think i got it covered for the weekend 🎤🎶

landonorris: i'm available any day of the week with no other commitments blocking my schedule ☺️

➥ georgerussell: mate this is embarrasing

➥ mickschumacer: lando no wins & no rizz what a shame 😒

➥ user29: MICK CHILLLLL ⁉️⁉️

➥ user30: whatdidhedo to deserve that calm downnnn

➥ charlesleclerc: lando please just listen to the song like everybody else this is painful to see 😣

maxverstappen: you laced this song with something addictive

➥ schecoperez: i hear it on repeat through the wall he is not lying

➥ user31: yn ln gives you wings 🤪

user32: just because lily was in the video and yn made the focus of the song about her doesn't mean that the orginal song is okay? it's not like she stopped singing about being a side chick.

➥ user33: no, it literally IS okay. because lily and alex both said they made the song with her and were happy to be in the video 🙂

➥ user34: i don't know, lily agreeing to the video makes me dislike her

➥ user35: yeah this song was a miss not a good message at all

instagram • danica patrick • 2022

liked by 10,764 others

danicapatrick: “This past weekend the Aston Martin F1 crew celebrated yn’s P5 finish track side and, honestly, that was unnecessary. It’s not like she managed to reach the podium and personally, I feel like she doesn’t take F1 seriously. I mean, it seems like she spends more time making explicit songs than she does preparing for a race weekend. Her little songs are a distraction to the men on the grid and she appears as a promiscuous, immature, and unfocused girl. She’s not the formula one standard, in my opinion.”

I discuss yn ln’s career in the new episode of my podcast, Pretty Intense! Click the link in my bio to hear it all!

tagged prettyintensebydanica

view comments

user36: ms. patrick are you familiar with the idea of having a hobby 🤔

nicorosberg: how are you qualified to be an expert on sky sports?

user37: woman who's never raced in f1 gives her unsolicited opinion on the only black woman to race in f1 😂

user38: danica this screams jealousy girl

user39: nothing is worse than hearing a fellow girl hate like a man smh

user40: "her little songs" disrespectful as hell don't forget one of them charted on billboard's top 10 😤

user41: SHE GOT P5 IN AN ASTON MARTIN how is that not taking f1 seriously????

user42: if her songs were a distraction to the men on the grid aren't they the ones who should be described as unfocused🤫

➥ user42: anyways, yn would be doing us a favor. maybe max wouldn't win as many races if that were the case

instagram • yn0 • 2022 post-season

liked by dominicfike, keithpowers, tchalamet, summerwalker, and 7,988,531 others

yn0: "girls need love," too.

view comments

user43: OH MY GOD the drought is over 😭😭😭

➥ user44: i thought we'd never get another song after the hate she was getting for it 😫

michaelbjordan: are you interested in a private studio session?

➥ landonorris: she don't want u lil bro 🤣

➥ user45: yn's pulling with three photo's and a song,,,teach me your ways

astonmartinf1: the spine tattoo 😍 good choice to get it during the off-season 💚

➥ user46: i misjudged you aston... i thought y'all told her to stop making music glad to see the support is still there :)

mickschumacher: let’s go get some gelato?

➥ yn0: as long as you don’t snitch to my trainer 😚

➥ mickschumacher: i’ll pick you up 😇

➥ landonorris: imma bout to crash TF out ong 💢💢

patriciooward: there's a spot on my side of the garage whenever you want to watch an indycar race

➥ landonorris: oh wow is this really what we're doing pato 😐

➥ user47: the tension in this comment section scares me

jjetas2: if you're near minnesota one day fall through

➥ landonorris: win a superbowl first 🥱😴

➥ user48: LANDO you haven't won a race or a championship either 😭

judebellingham: have you gotten any better at football since the last time we spoke?

➥ landonorris: knew i supported man united for a reason 😒

lore_musetti: call me if you want a real italian to give you a tour of italy x

➥ landonorris: didn't know an italian could disrespect charles like that honestly 🤨

➥ user49: 💀💀💀

instagram • yn0 • 2023

liked by georgerussell, mickschumacher, megantheestallion, and 4,178,063 others

yn0: japanese nightlife captured in my new music video “mamushi” !!! thank uuu yuki-san for being my tour guide 💋💋💋💋💋💋

tagged yukitsunoda

view comments

georgerussell: i quite enjoy this song 😌

➥ alexalbon: bro what

➥ yn0: tEa aND cRuMPets SConEs AnD biScUIts 💂🇬🇧

charlesleclerc: triple platinum in my house rn ⭐️⭐️⭐️

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: i'm responsible for at least a million views on my own 🥱

➥ yn0: 💚💚💚💚💚

user50: at least we know that yn and yuki can qualify for formula drift if they ever lose their f1 seat

➥ user51: 95% of the driving they were doing in that video looked illegal (but fun asl i'm not a buzzkill)

➥ user52: she's a bad influence on yuki 🙄

➥ user53: i don't think you're familiar with yuki tsunoda at all @/user52

maxverstappen: yeah the song is catchy; where's mine 🥱

➥ yn0: damn you're gonna win a third championship this year and you want a song too 😱

➥ yn0: just big and greedy fr 😒

➥ user54: big back attitude

➥ user55: like sheesh leave something for the rest of us 🤯

user50: gets p3 in suzuka driving an aston 🗿-> shrugs when asked how she did it 🗿 -> makes a banger mv in japan with yuki 🗿 -> refuses to elaborate 🗿

pierregasly: yuki explain your behavior in this video

➥ yukitsunoda: no 🤗

➥ user56: maybe he would've told you if you stayed at alphatauri

➥ user57: now you're in an alpine 🫵🏻😭

instagram • yn0 • 2023 post-season

liked by charlesleclerc, logansargeant, glorillathepimp, and 9,337,272 others

yn0: he don't "wanna be" saved don't save him 🤫

tagged maxverstappen

view comments

yn0: i don't need insurance cause a bitch CAN'T WRECK ME

➥ user58: no like she's never been in a crash her entire f1 career 🤓

➥ user59: she's untouchable srs

logansargeant: WHITE BOY WASTED CHANNING TATUM

➥ yn0: hoes love me like justin bieber 👅👅👅

user60: omg an old picture from yn's haas era when max's redbull wasn't a rocket ship 😩

➥ haasf1team: good times

➥ astonmartinf1: 💚💚💚

maxverstappen: you graduated from the max verstappen school of being unstoppable 😼

➥ charlesleclerc: austria 2022

➥ georgerussell: brazil 2022

➥ mickschumacher: my dad’s 7 championships

➥ alexalbon: i have nothing to add (literally)

➥ maxverstappen: out of the five of us we have three total world championships and they're all mine 😐

glorillathepimp: go yn 🥵

➥ yn0: get it glo 👅

➥ user61: i am no better than a man

➥ user62: i want this video tattooed on my eyelids

mickschumacher: i don't wanna be saved don't save me

➥ yn0: on gang 🤞🏾🔒🙅🏾‍♀️

kellypiquet: twenty missed calls...

➥ yn0: i would like to initiate a trade! i offer: max :) in return i receive: my twin p 🤲🏾

➥ kellypiquet: i will have a bag packed for her TONIGHT

➥ user63: kelly definitely won in that trade agreement! a childfree night??? sign me the fuck up ‼️

user64: i didn't think it was possible but this song is the worst thing she's ever made 😂

➥ user65: it's weird. max is in a committed relationship with a woman and has bonded with her kid. yn's getting involved with him when she shouldn't be 🤷‍♀️

➥ user66: girl she's been around since wayyyy before kelly as max's friend.

➥ user67: she forced max into friendship when they were karting back when he thought he couldn't have racing friends🥺

➥ user66: trauma bonded besties fr

sky sports f1 • 2024 testing

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by natalie_pinkham, danielricciardo, laybankz and 5,438,023 others

yn0: (my honest reaction when the internet can't stop talking shit about me) can't i make fun music videos without being called a homewrecker or a whore? sometimes "girls just wanna" f1 !

view comments

user68: no bc she makes hot girl music and y'all dont appreciate it 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

➥ user69: if you don't like her music you're not a baddie i don't make the rules 🙅🏻‍♀️

user70: did she just make the song of the summer 😱😵‍💫☠️

➥ user71: song of the YEAR !!! and people calling her a whore smh

landonorris: what if you make an mv with me and instead of being called a whore i call you my girlfriend?

➥ mickschumacher: corny. delete your account 🚮

➥ user72: i disagree with mick, he ate that up imo 👀

➥ user73: isn't he messing around with that model/actress though…

➥ user74: you mean m*gui lol

➥ yn0: who's that

➥ user74: lando's recent sneaky link or gf i thought

➥ yn0: oh

charlesleclerc: if i were to call you one thing it would not be homewrecker or whore ✊🏻

➥ charlesleclerc: it would be hit-maker because you DO NOT MISS 😩

➥ alexalbon: one could even call her the 🐐

➥ georgerussell: grammy caliber artist

➥ maxverstappen: they compare her to lebron and simone biles in discussion of being the greatest of all time 😌

➥ yn0: just yesterday y'all said i give slut energy (affectionately) 😕

➥ maxverstappen: many things can be true at the same time

➥ charlesleclerc: false ‼️ accusations

sabrinacarpenter: girls just wanna have fun 😋

➥ user75: OMG sabrina what are you doing here

➥ user76: what in the disney channel crossover episode is going on

imessage • yn -> lando

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by mclaren, mickschumacher, lewishamilton, laybankz, and 8,765,392 others

yn0: dropping the "tell ur girlfriend" video tonight as celebration for lando's first win (me next please!) i DO NOT codone cheating but the song is too hard for me to pretend like it's not a banger 🤪

tagged landonorris

view comments

landonorris: you look good in papaya 🧡🧡🧡

➥ astonmartinf1: it's a little too much for our tastes 🤢

➥ yn0: i look good in any color but i do happen to prefer green 💚

➥ user77: i think lando's on to smth w the orange tho 🤔

landonorris: that's my girlfriend !!!!

➥ yn0: NO I AM NOT ❌❌❌

➥ yn0: WE WERE ACTING IN THIS MUSIC VIDEO

➥ yn0: LANDO I WILL SUE YOU FOR DEFAMATION 🤬

➥ landonorris: i'll wait for you 😔

➥ mickschumacher: she's so uninterested in you mate 🙃

user78: he gets his first win and a yn ln music video i know he's on cloud nine 😭😭😭

➥ user79: lando how does it feel to be living my dream 😩

oscarpiastri: oh thank god maybe he'll stop talking about you nonstop now that he got a video 🙏🏻

➥ landonorris: bro delete this comment

➥ user80: i screenshotted it too late 🫡

user81: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song promoting it anyways 😑

➥ user82: she doesn't condone cheating but messes with lando even though she knows he's taken by magui 😑

➥ user83: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song about it because it sounds fucking fire 🫦👅🔥🔥🔥

alexalbon: great video too much lando for me 😪

➥ georgerussell: he really just ruined the vibe

➥ charlesleclerc: y'all just mad you haven't been in one of her videos yet 🙂‍↔️

➥ maxverstappen: i don't see how you can hate from outside of the club 🤷🏼‍♂️

➥ landonorris: you can't even get in 🫵🏻🤣

twitter • yn0

instagram • yn -> the day ones

instagram • yn0 • 2024 post-season

liked by maxverstappen, fernandoalonso, zhouguanyu24, kaliii and 12,779,436 others

yn0: hoes mad about my roster being INTERNATIONAL smh stay mad and watch the music video for "area codes" it features all the men (my FRIENDS ✨) you'll never have a chance with 😇😚🤗🤭🤤💚💚💚

tagged f1

view comments

user84: no xnda feature but she got lewis in the fucking video

user85: i just wannna know hwo the fuck she got checo to be in the video 💀

user86: idc what the haters say: she just said y'all have no motion, no aura, no bitches and what are you gonna do about it 😳😳😱

user89: she got lando and mick in a photo together??? how they've been beefing in her comments for years 😧

➥ user90: can't believe im saying this but esteban did not deserve to be punished like that 😬

georgerussell: i am the one feeding her pasta and lobster btw

➥ yn0: you don't send me money tho :(

➥ georgerussell: you are an f1 driver too you don't need my money 🧐

charlesleclerc: can you leave some talent for the rest of us 😒

➥ yn0: bro u are mozart on your days off be serious

lilymhe: cause why are u never in town 😞

➥ alexalbon: cause she'll steal you from me 😭😫

➥ yn0: i'm pulling up rn lils 🫦

lewishamilton: you want a mercedes or a xnda feature?

➥ yn0: im tryna take the mercedes seat you left behind 👀

➥ user91: omfg toto sign herrrrrrrr ✍️

maxverstappen: anything for my favorite lady 🙇🏼🧎🏼‍♂️

➥ yn0: i gotta go they just lmk that i could pick up my mercedes 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

user92: lando in two photos? sus

➥ landonorris: you said it not me 🤫

➥ mickschumacher: bro you acted like her shadow the entire night don't let it go to your head 😠

fernandoalonso: very fun song!

➥ user93: you too old to be doin all that fernando :/

➥ user94: literally choked when i saw him in the video

logansargeant: hey you did manage to get me in "one of your little music videos" 🤭

➥ yn0: if only they knew that you agreed with a bribe of two zebra cakes

➥ user95: they couldn't fathom the delicacy that is a zebra cake 🤤

yn0: stop pretending to dislike my songs and realize that the boys are my homies. you'll be a lot happier when you come to terms with that 🥱

#f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 smau #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #mick schumacher x reader #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1

1K notes · View notes

yourdarkcherry · 7 months ago

Text

Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault.

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber.

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ‘Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster.

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier.

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat.

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day.

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,”

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie.

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you.

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams.

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand.

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?”

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin.

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face.

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader

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nosyp · 2 months ago

Text

Don't you miss me babe?

Warning = stalking, controlling behaviour, toxic relationships, toxic michael kaiser, manipulation

Pairing = Michael Kaiser x reader

Summary = Michael Kaiser begging for you to come back but you aren't having none of it.

Word count = 3.8k

A/N = I kinda hate this, maybe I'll rewrite in the future

The hum of the plane engine filled the cabin, a constant, soothing rhythm that masked the restless whispers of passengers and the occasional clatter of the flight attendants’ carts. You leaned your head against the cool window, eyes tracing the endless expanse of clouds below, their fluffy edges glowing softly in the sunlight.

The world seemed so small from far away up here. You clutched the boarding pass in your lap, the crinkled paper a tangible reminder of where you were headed… and what you’d left behind.

A voice crackled over the intercom, the pilot announcing the estimated arrival time, but the words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moments that had brought you to this seat at 30,000 feet in the air.

The stranger beside you shifted, snapping the book shut in the process. "Long flight, huh?" he said, their tone light.

You still stared out of the window, surprised by the interruption and too scared to meet their eyes. The voice sounded so familiar, that scared you. There was no way right?

“Yeah," you murmured, unsure whether to continue the conversation or retreat back into your own thoughts.

“Why’re you flying?” he asks, looking at the clutched boarding pass in your lap.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. Shit. It was your ex, Michael Kaiser.

Your breath caught in your throat, your stomach twisted and turned inside your stomach. Of all the people in the world, why him? You’d worked so hard to leave Michael Kaiser in the past, but here he was, seated right beside you in the plane.

“Kaiser,” you bit out, your tone laced with venom.

His smirk widened at the sound of his name. “The one and only,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t noticed that you were staring daggers at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Guess it’s fate, huh?”

“Fate?” You scoffed, shifting away from him as much as the cramped airplane seat would allow. “More like a sick joke.”

He chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves. “Still so feisty. I missed that about you.”

Your fingers tightened around the boarding pass in your lap. “What part of I never want to see you again didn’t you understand?”

Kaiser leaned closer, his cologne annoyingly familiar. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. We had something special.”

“Special?” You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “If by special, you mean you constantly acted like the world revolved around you and couldn’t take no for an answer, then yeah, it was real special.”

His confident grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, brushing off your words like they were nothing. “You’re just angry because you know I’m right. Deep down, you still–”

“Don’t,” you interrupted sharply, your voice low and firm. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

For a moment, silence settled between you, giving you the temporary moment of peace you needed. Kaiser opened his mouth, probably to deliver another infuriating line, but you held up a hand.

“I’m not doing this, Kaiser. Not here, not now, not ever. So save your breath and just go.”

He stared at you, his smirk slipping into something more subdued, a softer smile, but you refused to let your guard down. The tension between you and Kaiser was so intense it almost felt real. He leaned closer again, his face now inches from yours, and this time, the smirk was gone, a dark smile now present on his face.

“I don’t think you understand, do you?” His voice low, almost a whisper, but still somehow able to send shivers up your spine. “You think you’re moving on, but I know you’re not. Not really.”

You stiffened, resisting the urge to shove him away. “You don’t get it, Kaiser,” you spat, your teeth gritting. “I hate you. I never want to see you again, I never want to talk to you again. So what the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t move, his presence suffocating. “Oh come on… just calm down. You can say that all you want, but I know you. You can’t just erase me from your life. We were good together and… I was the only one who could truly understand you.”

Your pulse quickened. He was crossing every line, and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to back down. He was right. No matter how much you hated to admit it, there was always that nagging feeling, that memory of the way he’d manipulated everything around you. He knew exactly what buttons to push and how to push it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you managed to say, weakly.

Kaiser leaned in even closer, his breath brushing your ear. “You might think you’re over me, but I can see it in your eyes. You’re still looking for me. You need me.”

Your stomach churned. “Shut. Up.” The words were shaky, but you forced them out. “You have no right to talk to me like that. Not after everything.”

He chuckled softly, that familiar, infuriating laugh that always made your skin crawl. “What’s wrong, babe? You’re still mad about how I left? You’re still pissed off about everything? Do you think you’re the only one who’s suffered?”

The sudden rush of emotions hit you like a truck, all the feelings of anger, disgust, and hurt all blending together in a raw, overwhelming mix. “You’re unbelievable. I hope you know that.”

His eyes gleamed with that sharp, calculating look you remembered too well. “Maybe. But I know exactly how this ends.” He slid his hand closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your wrist, the touch making you recoil.

“No,” you hissed, shoving his hand away, a hot surge of adrenaline rushing through you. “You have no idea how this ends, because it ends now. I don’t owe you anything. Not an explanation, not closure, nothing. You lost that long ago.”

For a moment, Kaiser’s smirk faltered, finally. He was visibly frustrated from the words that you decided to spew out. “You’ll come around. You always do.” His tone was almost... patronizing. Like he was speaking to a child.

You stared at him, trembling with the effort to keep your anger in check. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever forgive you.”

His eyes never left yours, unwavering. “It’s not about forgiveness, babe. It’s about me getting what I want.”

The words hit you harder than any of his previous ones, and a cold dread settled in your chest. He wasn’t backing down, not this time. He was going to make you believe that you owed him something. He was going to make you need him again.

And for the first time, you wondered if he really would win.

“Don’t touch me,” you warned, your voice shaking despite the rage bubbling inside.

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “You know, you really don’t know how much you still care. But don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”

The way he said it disgusted you. It wasn’t a plea or even an attempt to reason with you. It was a command, words that were supposed to manipulate you into thinking you’d need him. He never understood the word no. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“You really think you can book a seat next to me and just start talking to me as if everything’s fine?” You bit out, your voice sharper now, holding onto your anger like a weapon. “Like you didn’t tear me apart?”

Kaiser tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with that damnable amusement. “Tear you apart?” He laughed, a low sound that made your skin crawl. “If anything, you tore yourself apart. I just showed you who you really were. All those walls you put up? I broke them down. You didn’t know who you were before me.”

Every word hit like a slap. The guilt, the self-doubt that had been buried under the layers of anger and resentment you’d carefully built after the breakup, started to bubble to the surface. He knew exactly how to chip away at you, to make you question everything.

“I was fine before you,” you snapped, forcing your emotions to stay in check, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. “I was better before you. And you know what? I don’t need you to remind me of anything.”

His expression shifted slightly, the smirk faltering for a moment before it returned, darker now, colder. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re wrong. You need me more than you’ll ever admit. And I’m not going anywhere, babe. You’re mine.”

That last word settled over you like a shadow, its weight sinking into your chest. There was no mistaking it now. He wasn’t just trying to get back with you—he was trying to reclaim you, to possess you again. The same twisted control he’d held over you before was there, lurking in every word he spoke.

“No,” you managed, barely a whisper, but firm enough to choke back the crushing weight of his presence. “You lost your chance. You can’t own me anymore, Kaiser.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes narrowing, observing every detail of you. Then, as if he’d come to some conclusion, his lips curled into a sinister smile.

“You’ll see. You’ll come crawling back. They all do eventually.” His tone was so confident it made you want to scream, to slap that smug look off his face. But you kept still, trying to hold onto whatever piece of sanity you had.

But as the seconds stretched on and turned into minutes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be right.

And that thought… oh that thought… it was far more terrifying than anything you could ever imagine.

Kaiser’s smirk stayed on his face. The air around you started to feel suffocating now. Every word he spoke was like a jagged blade carving through your defenses, and despite every instinct telling you to fight, you felt a momentary crack in your resolve.

“You really think you can move on?” he continued, his voice calm but edged with something darker. “You think you can just forget everything we were? All the things we shared? All the things I gave you?”

The words sliced through you, and for a split second, a memory flashed. You’d suddenly remember the feeling of his touch, his words, the moments where he did make you feel like you were everything. And then, in the next moment, everything could change. Those sweet memories turning into something bitter.

“No,” you spat. “I’m not the same person anymore, and you’re not the same either. In fact, you’ve probably gotten worse. You were always the selfish one, always looking out for yourself. You can’t just come back into my life and pretend things are different.”

His eyes glinted with something that looked almost like amusement. “Selfish?” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “Maybe. But you’re no saint either. You’re a mess, and deep down, you know that. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

Your heart pounded harder, anger flashing through your veins. “Stop trying to manipulate me!” you hissed, your fist tightening on the armrest. “This is exactly what you did before. You don’t care about me… you care about winning. About controlling me. About making me need you again. I bet it makes your ego thrive huh?”

Kaiser leaned back in his seat, as if satisfied by the effect his words were having on you. “So what if I do?” he drawled, his voice lazy. “I’ve always had control over you, and I know you hate admitting it. But every time I’ve walked away from you, you’ve always come crawling back. You always do.”

All of a sudden, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Just like I said. You’ll come to me when you’re ready. When you realize no one will ever love you the way I did.”

Your stomach churned, the darkness of his words wrapping around you and squeezing you. But even with the lump rising in your throat, something in you refused to give up. You weren’t the same person anymore, not the one who’d been caught in his grip.

“Not this time,” you managed to say, voice trembling but defiant. “You don’t control me. You never did.”

Kaiser chuckled again, but this time it was devoid of warmth. Icy. Like he was savoring something, like he knew you’d eventually break. He slid his gaze over to you, leaning forward again, too close for comfort. His breath ghosted over your ear as he spoke, low and chilling.

“I never needed to control you, babe,” he whispered, voice thick with unspoken threats. “Because you were always mine to break. And that’s the thing… no matter how hard you try, how many times you escape… I will always find a way.”

His fingers grazed your wrist once again, with more force this time, gripping your skin with a cruel sort of finality. “You don’t get to walk away from me. Not again.”

The sound of the plane’s engines seemed to fade into the background, like the world was narrowing down to just the two of you.

You fought back the tears about to burst from your eyes, clenching your jaw until it hurt. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, not again. This time, you wouldn’t let him win.

“You’re wrong,” you said through clenched teeth. “I’m done.”

Kaiser didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We both know you’re lying,” he murmured. “And when you finally admit the truth, when you realize that you still… need me, you’ll come running. And I’ll be right here, waiting. Because I always will be.”

You could feel his hot breath on your skin, the pressure of his presence pushing in on you from all sides. His hold on you wasn’t physical, not just yet. But emotionally? Mentally? He was already in control, and the thought sent an icy shiver down your spine.

But as the plane hummed on, you took a shaky breath and refused to let him see how deeply he was getting under your skin.

This wasn’t over. And it never would be, not until you stopped letting him invade every part of you.

For the rest of the flight, Kaiser didn’t try to disturb you, luckily. Though, his presence still hovered in the corner of your mind, like a shadow you couldn’t escape, but he still kept his distance. Maybe it was all a game to him, or perhaps he realized that pushing you further would only make things more complicated. Either way, you were thankful for the quiet, for the ability to breathe without his voice invading every thought.

You tried to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself. The seatbelt sign flickered on and off occasionally as the plane made its way through the clouds, and you found yourself staring at the small plastic tray in front of you, as though it held the answers to all your questions.

But the longer the silence stretched between you, the more you realized how fragile it all was. What if he didn’t stop? What if this wasn’t just some twisted game to him? What if Kaiser really could find a way back into your life, despite everything you’d worked to leave behind?

The more you thought about it, the more anxious you became. His words echoed in your mind.

“You’ll come crawling back.”

“They all do eventually.”

“I’ll remind you.”

“You’re mine.”

Each sentence was a poison, spreading through your thoughts, and you could almost feel yourself slipping. But you clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, and reminded yourself that no, you’re not going back. Ever.

You glanced out the window, the endless sea of clouds below you offering some semblance of calm. The gentle sway of the plane became a lullaby, coaxing your thoughts into a haze. But even in that moment of peace, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Kaiser’s words.

Suddenly, a soft thud broke the silence. You turned your head to find Kaiser leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed. His arms were crossed over his chest, but there was something about the way he sat made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It was like he was waiting for something, watching you out of the corner of his eye, studying your every movement. He wasn’t bothering you, but his presence was still suffocating, like a constant reminder that he was never too far away.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing back on the soft hum of the engines, trying to keep your mind from spiraling. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to engage with him, because you certainly didn’t. It was more that you knew that if you let him in again, even just a little, you might never get out.

The flight seemed to stretch on endlessly. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and the closer you got to your destination, the more you felt that sense of oncoming doom closing in on you. You had no idea what was going to happen once you both landed. Was this just another round of his twisted game, or would he try to force himself back into your life for good?

The intercom crackled once again, and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin, announcing the final descent. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you stared straight ahead, trying to steady your breath. You couldn’t shake the feeling that once this flight was over, you would have to face him, face the reality of everything he had dragged you through, and decide if you were really strong enough to walk away for good.

But for now, you have to survive the next few minutes. The next few moments of silent tension, of being stuck in this small metal tube with someone who knew exactly how to hurt you.

And for now, you held onto one truth. That one small, defiant thought: You won’t let him win. Not again.

As the plane descended, the sense of tension looming above you and Kaiser worsened. The hum of the engines was no longer a soothing background; now, it felt oppressive, like it made the sound of his words louder. You could feel his presence near you.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, the silence was broken by the soft sound of him shifting in his seat. He moved, and you immediately tensed, instinctively turning your body toward the aisle, trying to put a physical distance between the two of you. But it was too late.

Without warning, Kaiser slid closer to you, settling into the seat beside you as if he had every right to. His arm brushed against yours, and your body went stiff at the contact. His proximity was unbearable, but you didn’t dare react. Not yet. You were caught in a limbo of wanting to flee and wanting to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, studying. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of his gaze on your skin like a brand. You tried to focus on the window, hoping the world outside could somehow offer you escape, but he was relentless.

“Comfortable?” His voice was low, smooth.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, you forced yourself to stay still, to ignore the adrenaline thrumming through your veins. “I’m fine,” you muttered, the words clipped.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone laced with disbelief, though he was oddly calm. “You’ve been quiet since I sat down. Very unlike you.”

The arrogance in his voice made your blood boil, but you kept your hands clenched in your lap, trying to keep your temper in check. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react.

Kaiser let out a soft chuckle, the sound sliding under your skin like a snake, crawling its way into your thoughts. “You’re still angry,” he observed, eyes flicking over you in a way that made you want to crawl out of your own skin. “I can tell.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to give him an inch. The memory of everything he had done to you. You hated him. Hated him so much you could feel your chest tightening with it.

“I’m not angry,” you said through gritted teeth, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m just… so tired of you.”

His smile didn’t falter, but there was something darker behind his eyes now. “You’ve said that before,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer. “And yet, here you are. With me.”

The distance between you seemed to close even more, and you felt the edges of your control slipping, like sand through your fingers. He was right. You were here. You were stuck on this flight, trapped beside him for the last stretch of the journey. You were stuck in this hell of your own making.

But then, something in you snapped. You couldn’t just let him keep twisting the knife, making you feel like you were the one at fault. You had fought so hard to get away from him, and now he was just waltzing back in, expecting you to fall back in line.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, suddenly turning toward him, voice sharp and low. “Don’t ever think you have the right to get close to me again.”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “I don’t need your permission to be close to you, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “I’ve always been close to you. And I always will be.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, the fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. He was pushing, testing you, seeing how far he could take this before you caved.

The plane began to shake slightly as it descended further, but Kaiser didn’t budge. He stayed right beside you, close enough for you to feel his body heat, hear his breath. His presence was suffocating, invasive, but you forced yourself to stay calm, even if your heart was pounding in your throat.

You focused on your breath, your pulse, the sound of the plane’s descent, anything but him. You weren’t going to let him control this moment. Not now, not ever again.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #yandere blue lock #michael kaiser #yandere michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader

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tommiib · 3 days ago

Text

The Mistake We Keep Making ~ P.SH

warnings: angst, suggestive, depressed reader, infidelity, cheating, self hatred, toxic hwa.

wc: 1.5k

Just a little drabble.. I hope you enjoy!

How did you end up here? Naked. Vulnerable. Sticky.

It’s a tale you’re all too familiar with, a story that should have ended long ago—one that should have never begun. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help it. Not when he smiles at you like you’ve made his day, not when he brings you lunch during your grueling study sessions, not when he’s between your legs, devouring you like you’re his last meal, whispering how beautiful you are, how sweet you taste, how good you feel. Not when he looks up at you with hooded eyes, bottom lip quivering as he spills into you. Not when you collapse into each other, bodies tangled, drowning in a high you were never meant to share.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be with him.

You both knew it.

--------

��Y/N.”

Your name pulls you back, snapping you out of your daze. You’ve been zoning out more lately—a side effect of exhaustion, of self-inflicted chaos. The weight of your last year in university, the pressures of grad school applications, a demanding internship, moving out of your old apartment before the lease expires. You’re barely holding it together, and maybe that’s why you keep making the same mistakes. Why you keep letting him in.

“Huh—oh, yes?” you blink, refocusing on Lara, her golden nose ring glinting under the soft apartment lighting. Gorgeous as ever, her warm brown skin flawless, her long red curls framing a face too symmetrical to be real.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes scanning you with concern. “You keep zoning out. I think you have too much on your plate.”

She knows you too well. She always has. You’re a chronic overachiever, running yourself into the ground without ever leaving space to breathe. The difference is, Lara has balance. She’s just as busy—final year, business major, yet somehow her life is seamless. Perfect boyfriend, a family with money, an apartment that isn’t suffocating under the weight of bad decisions.

Meanwhile, you trick yourself into thinking that 5am gym sessions compensate for the disorder of your life, that productivity masks your wreckage. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t a mess.

“I think so too,” you admit, sighing. “But I’m too deep in. I worked so hard for that internship, I can’t screw it up now. Maybe once I finish moving, things will settle.” You take a sip of your hot chocolate, hoping the warmth will calm your nerves.

“I literally offered to hire movers for you.”

“Okay, but who’s going to unpack all my shit?”

“I said I’d help you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like people touching my things.”

Lara scoffs. “Why do you make things so hard for yourself?”

You don’t know. You really don’t. But it’s a pattern—one you can’t seem to break.

“You know I like doing things myself, Lara. If I can’t handle it alone, then what’s the point?” It’s a mindset etched into your bones.

She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

“Me neither.” You chuckle, but it’s hollow.

She convinces you to let her help with the move, and though you resist, you’re relieved. You’re grateful to have her, even if a small, ugly part of you resents how effortlessly put-together she is.

You’ve known Lara since third grade, since you found her beating up the class bully, Seth. You were inseparable after that. Her 4’9, 60-pound eight-year-old self had taken on the biggest guy in the grade and won. She was fearless, independent, kind—all the things you pretend to be. Maybe that’s why you push away her help. Accepting it feels like pity. It’s cruel to feel that way about your best friend, but you can’t help it.

She’s perfect without trying. And you…

You’re crying. Alone. In your car. In the parking garage of Lara’s apartment.

Pathetic.

You slam your forehead against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up in your throat. You’re so sick of crying. Sick of feeling. Sick of yourself. The weight of everything—the past, the present, the future—presses down on your chest, suffocating.

Your phone vibrates.

A name you should’ve erased long ago lights up your screen.

Hwa: I want to see you.

You exhale sharply, fingers tightening around your phone. He always seems to find you when you’re at your lowest. As if he has a sixth sense for your weakness. But the truth is, you wouldn’t have said no even if he’d texted at any other time.

You: I need you, Hwa.

And that’s the worst part.

Because it’s not just loneliness. It’s not just sex. It’s something much darker, much deeper. A sickness rooted in your bones, in your mind, in the way you let yourself believe that this—this—is the only way you can feel anything at all.

Maybe that’s why you always end up in his bed.

Even though you know that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

-------

Seonghwa’s fingers trace the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward his. The warmth of his touch sends a slow burn through your veins, igniting something reckless inside you.

“Angel,” he murmurs, voice smooth, coaxing. “Look at me.”

You do, blinking up at him from where you rest in his lap, curled into him on the couch. He smells like cedarwood and sin, his presence intoxicating. The movie playing on the screen is long forgotten, drowned out by the steady drum of your pulse.

It’s always the same routine—he comes over, you eat, you talk, you fuck. Repeat. Some nights feel different. Some nights, he lingers. Holds you a little longer. Whispers things in the dark that make your chest ache. Tonight is one of those nights.

His wife and daughter are away for the weekend, visiting family. He couldn’t go because of work.

You don’t know who you hate more. Him. His wife. Or yourself.

You hum softly, lashes fluttering as you meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, eyes darkening.

“You’re so quiet tonight,” he muses. “What’s on your mind?”

Everything. Nothing. You.

Instead of answering, you shift in his lap, pressing your thighs together. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand tightens on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes locked onto yours, heavy with intent.

He leans in, breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me what you need.”

You swallow, heart hammering. You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. But your body betrays you, melting into him, chasing his warmth.

You whisper the words you always do, the ones that keep you bound to him in this cycle of ruin.

“You.”

Without hesitation, Hwa leans down, his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that should not belong to you. It is slow, deliberate—loving. The kind of kiss a man gives his wife, the kind of kiss a man should give his wife. And yet, here he is, pressing that devotion into you, stealing what was never yours to have.

"Hwa," you breathe between his kisses, your voice barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest.

"Hm?" He hums, lost in you, unaware—or perhaps too aware—of how he unravels you piece by piece.

"You're so gentle tonight," you murmur, tilting your head to grant him access, surrendering before you can think twice. His lips trail down your jaw, onto the delicate skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse.

"I finally have as much time with you as I want," he says, each word pressing into you like a brand. "I'm going to take my time. Savor you. Every part of you."

The words hit deep, sinking into the hollow spaces you pretend don’t exist. He wants to savor you. To be with you. To consume you slowly, as if you are something precious, something worth lingering over. But are you? Is this self-destruction or indulgence? Is this a wound or a reward?

"I missed you so much, angel. Your smell, your face, your taste. Always so pretty for me. You know that?"

Here he goes again, whispering the words he knows will break you apart, dissolving the fragile pieces of your restraint. He knows you too well. Maybe that’s why he chose you. He knew you were empty, a void waiting to be filled, so he poured himself into you—made you whole in the only way he knew how. Physical love, fleeting love, the kind that fades with the morning light. Because there’s no way he could truly love you, right?

Hwa strips away his shirt, then yours, discarding them like the last remnants of reason. His hands are firm yet reverent as he lifts you, carrying you toward your empty, half-packed room. He stumbles over a box, nearly losing balance, and you let out a quiet laugh.

He silences you with a kiss, deep and claiming, before laying you tenderly onto the mattress.

Tonight, you are his.

Tonight, he is yours.

And when the morning comes, reality will take him back.

But for now—for now, he lingers.

#ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #atz #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #angst #ateez angst #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x you

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typewritingyip · 3 months ago

Text

The Arcturus Missions

Part Nine - Information Needed

Part Eight

———

Preceptor is one of the finest scientists that the Earth has to offer, next to Shockwave, both of whom work for the agency Mecha and their own corresponding governments. He was one of the first to start working on the suits, before the drift technology, said it came to him in a dream. A very odd dream but still a dream.

Most people are convinced that the man is a little insane, often spending long hours examining and re-examining the remains of the Quintessons as if trying to remember something or someone. He spends a great deal of time alone or with pilots, he himself is technically drift compatible and tests most of the technology he makes within his own much smaller suit.

Although he was deemed odd, his innovations in the mech suit field and for a number of programs are astronomical in nature. Hence why Mecha was quick to snatch him up, with a considerable salary and a promise to be able to spend more time in his own suit, he worked endlessly on tech for the pilots and they were eternally grateful.

Most of the enchanted upgrades that went into the Arcturus program came from Preceptor, he himself technically registered for Arcturus Three should it ever get off the launch pad. It had not been the boss’s idea, but if their shuttle system were to actually work than sparing one scientist of their brilliant pair would be fine, right?

—

The ground was harder here than it was where the Odyssey landed, Jazz was talking quietly with Prowl for the moment while the crew of Actrusus One settled onto the chunks of scrap metal or the ground. Sunstreaker was at present cleaning his bracers, now covered in just disgusting gore, along with Sideswipe. Breakdown eased himself slowly to the floor and stared up at the sky, sighing deeply. Hound was waiting for Jazz to wrap up his conversation, shifting slightly to look at the other mecha in the distance.

If what Jazz said was true and that these beings weren’t things in suits like them, it could be dangerous, prejudice found it’s way into most societies. Glancing toward Sunstreaker, he stared at the flecks of pink still covering his armor, so much of their world was toxic to them. Hound’s eyes continued to scan the environment, watching some of the mecha in the distance drink something very similar to what was splattered on the twins. Could it really be their blood?

Jazz turns away from Prowl and comes over to Hound, resting his hand likely on his shoulder, “Welcome to Cybertron.” With a push, they go over and sit on a section of what likely used to be metal crates which have now melted to the ground, “Yes, speaking of, where is Cybertron?” Jazz sighed and leaned back against his hands, shaking his head slightly. He stayed quiet for a moment before looking to Hound, “About, thirty or more lightyears from Earth?” Hound nearly got up from the shock but Jazz grabbed his hand, “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. When you're in places like Iacon you can open your vents and Prowler helped me set up a garden up there. I’m not starving, not dying, and doing my job.” Hound sighed, slowly lowering himself back down to the makeshift bench.

“You likely traveled here the same way I did, an unsanctioned space bridge, you all probably deal with mild radiation sickness over the last few days.” The way he said it, it almost made Hound’s skin crawl, “Jazz, we’ve only been here a day or two at most. But back up, what the hell is a space bridge?” Hound’s head shakes a bit, especially when Jazz laughs, “God, there is so much you’ll have to learn. A space bridge is, uh, well maybe a wormhole? I don’t exactly get it, but you’re here.” Jazz’s arm wraps around Hound’s shoulders, “Why are the four of you here?” The moment hung in the air, for one second then dragged on, Jazz’s grip tightened slightly, patting Hound’s shoulder, “I’m really happy to see you Hound.” Hound lowers his head, smiling sadly, “I’m really happy to see you too Jazz.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked towards them both, “Jazz, we were going to find you, no matter the state you were in.” Sunstreaker’s voice was soft, rubbing lightly at his head, “Even if we died trying.” Sideswipe finished, smiling even behind the visor. They all nodded, the mission was to live and die for their planet, to do what they could while they could, they all knew it. To become drift compatible, the day you start the procedures is the day you sign your death certificate just about. Hound looked over at the pilots, at the numbers on their chests, staring at the twins 2450 through 51, and remembered how they’d passed three thousand before they left Earth. His hand comes up and rubs over the number on his own chest, “Our mission is to defeat these, Quintesson things, to stop them from attacking Earth. If we can take out their ranks here, or find wherever they're coming from, I think that’s worth it.” Breakdown hummed but stood, stretching, “I’m gonna walk around, try to get my translator working.” “Adjust your settings, it’s set up to translate into English.” Hound pointed at his head as Breakdown nodded and hands moved through the air, to the screens that would be in his cockpit to adjust the settings as he walked away. Jazz winced, “Uh, yeah, he’ll need to work on that.” Unable to hold it back, Hound chuckled, which eventually sent the group into laughter.

—

In the distance, Megatron was brooding, as were many other cybertronian’s watching the new and odd mecha interact. Optimus was talking quietly with Mirage only a few meters away, battle mask still up and covered in soot, “So, the yellow one,” “I think his name is Sunstreaker sir.” Mirage stood almost painfully rigid as he always did around the prime, “Yes, he’s the one who harmed Beachcomber?” Mirage nodded but clasped his hands lightly, “I don’t believe it was on purpose, the scraplet deterrent systems activated once they entered the solar farm, according to those who were there the fog was so thick they couldn’t see anything for the first half the fight.” Optimus hummed, nodding slowly, “And Beachcomber was seen by Knock Out, got his arm reattached and is already back in Iacon.” Mirage almost preened, he was good at his job and part of it was in fact the damage control. Optimus’s smile reached his eyes, hand coming to rest on Mirage's shoulder, “Thank you Mirage, I’d recommend you refuel and get some rest, we’ll be returning to Iacon in the morning.” With a stiff nod, Mirage steps back and salutes, “My Prime,” before heading towards where the energon was being served.

With a deep sigh, Optimus turned to Megatron, frowning now as he walked over, “In the last five stellar cycles, I thought you came to care for Jazz.” he stood as close to the grey mech as he could without touching him, his own gaze following Megatron’s to the strange mecha in the distance, “I have, that is why I am concerned on why they are here.” Optimus hummed, the back of his servos lightly brushing over Megatron’s, who brushed his back before crossing his arms and adjusting his stance, “If they did not come here to find Jazz, what else would have brought them here?” “I think they arrived here in a similar manner as to how Jazz came to us,” Megatron almost growled, it was a touchy subject, Jazz’s first few weeks in space and his collision with a space bridge, “But, regardless, they are here now and we will take care of them the same way that we have for Jazz.” Optimus looked at Megatron, smiling a bit before looking past him and sighing deeply, “It never ends, yes, Ironhide I am coming.” He quickly takes Megatron’s hand and releases it almost instantly, “Do not scare them while I am gone.” “I would never dream of it.” His tone said otherwise but the prime was already rushing off.

Megatron continued to watch the group, frowning deeply.

—

It was starting to get dark with the glow of the heater, the main thing for light, it was comfortable, familiar in a way.

Although it was against typical protocol, Hound was distracted and not keeping an eye on his team. Breakdown had wandered off to try and get his translator programmed and the twins were obviously snacking inside their suits as their hands clink against their visors every couple of seconds. He was thinking and starting at the heater, it wasn’t a fire but still something that would keep them warm. The last probably two days, he’d have to check over the actual logs to know how long it had been; it had been entirely strange and foreign. Something he’d expected working with a group so different from each other, but he didn’t anticipate the alien planet. He didn’t anticipate the wandering eyes of mechs that looked so much like his suit, but very clearly were not suits, stared at them all.

Heavy footfalls drew the twins' attention up, both of them gawking behind their visors at the sheer size of Megatron. Sure, they’d seen bigger mechs but he was also heavier by how just his footsteps lightly shock the ground. Sunstreaker turned towards Jazz, moving slightly closer, “Hey, do you know that guy?” Jazz glances up but looks back to Sunstreaker quickly, “That guy, is Lord High Protector, don’t piss him off.” He shifted back to his incomprehensible conversation with Prowl, who, if the twins were choosing to describe it, was gazing at Jazz as if he hung the damn stars in the sky. Sideswipe nudges Sunstreaker and together they shift closer to Jazz and Prowl, whispering quietly, “What the hell is a lord high protector?” Sideswipe shrugged lightly, “Beats me, but last time I messed with a guy in a suit that big, with a cannon that… compensating, I ended up in the hospital for three weeks and my mech lost it’s first arm.” Sunstreaker nods a bit, remembering that very distinctly since he’d been the one to pull the guy off his brother, neither of them had spoken to Barricade since. They move again, closer to Jazz and Prowl, both tuning their translators and trying to figure out what was between those two besides plating.

After a moment more, Megatron reached the outskirts of their group and he was glowering at it, the separation from the other mechs was bad enough before the war and now an entirely different species of mech was being terrorized by their shared enemy, it made his lines boil. Clearing his throat, he sat with them and leveled his gaze at the leader of their group, the one in green, “Hound, was it?” Who was still deeply lost in thought but glanced up, “Yes, um.” Jazz looks up and nearly has a heart attack, “Commander Megatron, sir, um.” He clears his throat painfully, “These are,” “I have received Prowl’s report, thank you Jazz.” With a slightly sheepish nod, Jazz looks to Hound. Who was stock still himself, as he had deactivated his own motion adapters to snack as to not draw attention to the fact he was eating. Jazz could tell and lightly shook his head, but a message popped up on Hound’s visual feed, ‘Don’t be stupid, also send me the specs for the transmitter, it's so not fair you can talk to them and I had to slog my way through their language’ Hound didn’t have time to answer, even as the twins did in his stead, “Hound, do you recall my question from earlier?” Megatron’s voice almost softened, as if he was anticipating a negative answer, “Of course sir.”

Taking a breath, he finished the bar quickly and shifted to look at the direct commander of this small outfit. His grey was intimidating, so many of the mechs on Earth had flashy colors so that they’d be able to sell merchandise, seeing someone washed out in such a way was almost disturbing. Hound shifted to look at him before reactivating the motion adapters and clearing his throat, tuning the translator slightly, “Sir, you asked us what brought us here, other than Jazz, I still don’t understand your question.” Megatron shifted a bit, gears grinding, reminiscent of the sound of Hound’s own joints in the early morning, “He is one mech, they sent four, why? What value does he hold to your people?” Nodding slightly, Hound scratches lightly at his jaw, “Well, Sir, technically he was only part of our mission, recover what parts we could. “Parts?” “Yes sir, we didn’t assume he survived.” Hound’s gaze wandered to the very alive Jazz, sighing lightly.

”You came to collect a dead mech, for a funeral?” It was a beat before Hound was able to respond, shifting slight, “Well, no. The government works with our agency, I technically work for both, recovering any parts of— Jazz, seemed more plausible and cost effective. We needed the data he has.” Megatron shifted slightly, crossing his arms, “The data?” Hound nodded some, “Yes Sir, the data, we don’t often travel space. Technically, we were expected to break Newton's third law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Back home we say, what goes up must come down. We weren’t planning on coming back down.” Looking up to the stars, Hound smiled sadly, “How would you provide the data if you were not expected to return?” Breakdown shifts in the distance, clearing his throat, “Uh, we have on our ship a relay satellite, it would broadcast the information much faster than simple radio waves. It would remain in function long past our remaining time.” Megatron turns to look at Breakdown, “Your remaining time?” Hound clears his throat again as Breakdown looks at the ground, “Well, nobody lives forever.” Over near Jazz, Sunstreaker hums lightly before Sideswipe sings off key, “Let us die young or let us live forever.” Jazz takes the opportunity to smack Sideswipe.

Megatron turns to stare at Hound, with a flicker of horror in his optics, shock evident on his face, “You expected to die,” Hound, shrugs lightly, shaking his head, “Most of us were the best candidates, no strings attached or nothing much to live for unless you count money.” He sighs deeply, tilting his head slightly, clearly in thought, “After Jazz disappeared, we knew once we volunteered there wouldn’t be a way back. It was easy to accept, us or the world. Wouldn’t you make that choice?” He looks back to Megatron, whose face was still filled with shock before pushing off his seat aggressively and storming over to Optimus who was still speaking with Ironhide, “Optimus! A word, now.” The taller blue and red mech looked to the grey with a sense of dread before nodding, ironhide making himself scarce. Jazz looked to Hound and whistled lightly, “You don’t talk to Megatron about the matters of freedom, you or the boss will get an ear full.” Hound tilted his head again and rubbed his neck, “I was just telling him about our mission, to find you and send data back home before we died.” “Yeah and you said that to cybertronian Karl Marx.” Prowl frowned, looking to Jazz and having a brief silent conversation before he nodded and returned to his datapad.

Breakdown moved over to the group, hands on hips, “What?”

—

Mirage was for the moment hiding in the command structure, trying to refuel in peace and cool down from the day's battle. The green one, Hound, was a remarkable marksman and was plaguing Mirage’s mind; in the moment he could finally understand the initial allure that Jazz had for Prowl. he rested his helm lightly in his servos, remaining out of sight as he attempted to consume his fuel. Footsteps echoed in the distance and moved closer, “Let us talk where the others might not hear,” Mirage looked up and remained invisible, staring with wide eyes as his commander's voice drew closer. Optimus watched Megatron briefly before gesturing to the command structure, following Megatron’s angered pace.

Optimus was already rubbing his face, holding open the tarp for Megatron to enter the tent. Mirage remained in the corner, now freezing in his efforts to eat in peace, subspacing his energon and remaining out of sight. He thought for a moment to attempt to leave before Megatron and started to speak, “A suicide mission, they sent on a suicide mission.” Optimus sighs and leans against the table, “From what Jazz has said, their planet is desperate. Hence how he ended up finding Prowl and how we even learned of them to begin with. He too is lucky to be alive.” “Then a second suicide mission! When the first one failed.” He paced the small space, “Megatron, we don’t know how they view death, we have seen the amount of damage they can take. I myself have been certain Jazz was dead a number of times.” Megatron turned to Optimus, anger evident, “And that makes it all better, doesn’t it? The fact that they are designed for battle and war!” “That is not what I mean and you know it.” Optimus grabs Megatron’s hand and holds it lightly, squeezing lightly at his servos, “You cannot convince people that their life is worth living when they’ve been told from the moment that they came online they are doomed to die, not in a single conversation. I understand your anger, old friend, do you think it does not hurt me to see living being dismiss their own value so easily?” Optimus’s eyes were sad with age and wisdom, Megatron signed out with steam, leaning his helm against Optimus’s shoulder, “How many more mechs born to die will we encounter from this world? Their numbers, 2451, within thirty solar cycles.” Optimus’s eyes wandered the room for a moment, twitching for a click before he brings a hand to rest lightly on the back of Megatron’s head, Mirage snags the image and saves it quickly, “It seems that their species is a flash of lighting, bright and violent and brief.”

They stood together for a moment, silent and just holding lightly to each other. Megatron’s hands rested on Optimus’s waist as Optimus held his head to his shoulder, taking solace for a moment together.

“I hate their planet.” Megatron’s voice wavered with emotion, knowing he could have this moment with Optimus, oblivious to Mirage in the corner as was to his specs, “You have never been there.” Optimus tried lightly, “And yet I have seen this evil. I have seen it in Jazz’s broken parts and now in four others who treat themselves as if they have already died.” It was a moment before Optimus could form more words, “Your poetic way with words never fails to move me, I just wish you could speak of happier subjects.” Megatron chuckled softly, “May we live in happier times and win this war for the sake of all people.” He finally pulled away from Optimus, staring at him for a moment, “Thank you, if I had remained out there it was likely I would have said things they didn’t need to hear this soon after losing their home.” Optimus’s servos lightly brushed over Megatron’s faceplate, “It seems my endeavors to teach you patience are paying off.” Megatron grabs Optimus’s wrist, snarling, “Don’t be too proud of yourself Prime. Now, I have work that needs to be done.” “Will I see you for refueling?” Optimus tried not to worry at his derma, Megatron paused as he headed for the tarp, “If work does not run too long, my Prime.” Somehow to Mirage, that didn’t sound like a term of respect, he tried not to grin.

Once Megatron exited the room, Optimus sighed deeply, leaning against the table and speaking up, “He may not have known you were there Mirage and I recommend we keep it that way.” Before he too left the room.

———

A/N

Alright, so I had help with writing Megatron’s dialogue at the end of the chapter, it’s something when that person is pacing through the room doing a Megatron impression. It just makes it easier to find his voice apparently.

Thank you to @daffodils-and-bonfires for saying Megatron is cybertronian Karl Marx, I knew it but needed the help to phrase it.

I can typically write Megatron when he is on the battle field or in the berth room (not like that) but when he needs to wax poetic, I struggle a bit.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

#transformers #maccadam #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #hound #breakdown #sunstreaker #sideswipe #prowl #Jazz #optimus prime #megatron #mirage #the Arcturus missions #Ironhide

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loveandmurders · 1 month ago

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Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Part II)

Hi everyone, this is the second part of the adopted sister x Sinclair!brothers little series. It's based on an image I posted a while ago (here).

You can find part I here and my masterlist here.

I hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : no proof reading, toxic family, overprotective Sinclair brothers, negative thoughts about yourself, insecurities, violent discussion with your family, distress, crying, mentions of deadly sickness, angst / comfort

Everything was supposed to be alright, so you couldn’t understand how your day could have gone downhill so quickly and so badly.

Your day started like the other days.

You woke up in Bo’s bed. He was already up and about, preparing breakfast for everyone in the kitchen. You grabbed a quick shower, you dressed up and joined him. You kissed his cheek and thanked him for having taken care of you the night before. He told you to not mention it and gently stroked your face. Soon after Vincent came, he greeted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek as well.

You ate in a comfortable silence before sending a little message to Lester to wish him a good day. When he wasn’t coming for breakfast, you always sent him a message because you didn’t want him to think he was less loved than the twins. He was grateful you made him feel like he was part of the family, like he mattered.

And then you went to work after the twins hugged you goodbye and asked you to be careful on the roads. Bo reminded you that if you were too tired, he or Lester could come get you at the end of your shift. You smiled and nodded, knowing how overprotective and paranoid the brothers could be when it was about you.

You arrived at work and you thought that everything was going to be alright. You sent messages to Lester because you needed him to buy you some snacks, and to the twins to make sure that they were careful with the tourists. You hated to come back home with them injured. Your messages were always answered in the instant, the boys smiling at their screen.

Everything was going alright until, during your lunch break, someone asked for you.

You were a little bit surprised because no one could ask for you. A man younger than you was waiting for you at the reception. He smiled at you and greeted you with a honey-like voice. He seemed very sweet, but you grew up with killers so you knew the voice Bo was using when he needed to lure a victim in his traps. It felt the same. You might look innocent and naïve, but you knew better. You smiled back, but soon enough you lost your good mood.

“What do you mean, you are my brother?” you asked, it felt like a bad dream or a nasty prank

“I’m Sean, your brother. We have the same parents, Lydia and Mark. They lost you when you were 7, but I’ve been able to find you again. I was so excited to meet you, and I’m sure you’ll be so happy to finally have your family back.” he told you and you felt sick

“What do you mean, they lost me? They knew what orphanage they left me at. And they never came back. Look, I’ve moved on. I don’t want to talk to you.” you replied in pure instinct.

Something inside of you was panicking. You had wanted to leave this dark past behind you, and to understand that your parents were actually alive and had another child, whom they kept, was making you feel nauseous.

But Sean was smart, he begged for your phone number, and you gave in, so he could leave you alone. You were shaking when you came back to your office and you just couldn’t focus on your work anymore. You didn’t even finish your food.

You had barely calmed down at the end of your day. You were getting ready to get back home when you received a message from Sean. He invited you to meet your parents, so you could all be a family again. You refused and went back home as fast as you could, as if being in Ambrose would protect you from whatever the hell was going on.

You didn’t tell the twins what happened. You didn’t know why, you just didn’t feel like telling them. You were afraid of their reaction and you were afraid that if you talked about it, it would make all of this even more real.

Your parents were alive.

Your parents never came for you because they hated you.

But they had another child they loved this time.

What if it was the proof you weren’t lovable? What if it would allow the Sinclairs to realise it?

You were oddly silent that night and the twins noticed how you seemed thoughtful and tense. They didn’t manage to make you talk, and it worried them. You always told them everything, because you knew they always had your back. You got away from their interrogation by saying you just had a lot in your mind because of work, but that everything was alright. They knew when you lied, but they trusted you. They knew you would tell them if something was really off. Still, they hated to see their girl so out of her usual self.

You didn’t sleep well that night and Bo asked you if you were alright the next morning, gently cradling your face into his hands as he was looking for your eyes. You simply nodded and kissed the palm of his hands. He let you go, unconvinced. You barely ate and left before Vincent was up. You remembered to send him a message, as well to Lester though. It still concerned the three men; you never acted that way before.

They had always been a little bit worried you would meet someone, one day, which would drive you away from them. They wondered what was going on, even more because it seemed like you were upset, which was unbearable to them. You barely answered their messages today. They knew they would interrogate you that night.

Even more so when you told them you were going to come back home late. It never happened before.

You had agreed to meet your parents. Your “brother” was good with words and he convinced you. A part of you was a little bit curious as to why they left you. And another part of you hoped that if you accepted to see them just once, then you could forget about them forever. It would be your way to make peace with your past self and to say goodbye to this era of your life. You were really stressed out but you always dealt with your problems holding your head high.

You were strong and you kept repeating it to yourself as you settled in front of your “family”, in a bar nearby your workplace. You couldn’t deny how shocked you were to be in front of your parents. They were obviously older than in your memories, but it was truly them.

At first, they all tried to be gentle to you, like when you try to get someone to do what you want them to do. You could tell they were sweet talking to you, but you weren’t too sure why. They hadn’t looked for you for over a decade, so why did they care now?

Your parents explained to you that the orphanage refused to give you back; and when they finally had all the papers to take you again, you had been adopted away. The orphanage refused to give the name of your new family. But now you could be a family again, you could be everything you should have been. You listened for a while, without saying anything. You weren’t stupid enough to believe them.

A little voice inside your head was telling you that they never tried to find you after they abandoned you, and you were believing it.

“I have a family” you finally replied as you felt your phone buzzing inside your pocket, knowing it was one of your brothers messaging you.

You saw that your parents tried no to laugh at that and their son sent them a little warning look, as to tell them “don’t fuck this up”. You leaned into your seat, waiting.

“I’m very happy you found a family, despite everything” Sean said as he took your hand in his. You did your best to not remove it from his grasp. “But I want my big sister home, I want to know you and to take care of you. I’m sure you want to discover who I am too; you don’t have to be alone anymore. We can be a real family. You have been missed so much” he continued and you knew that if you didn’t have the Sinclairs in your life, you would have fallen for this.

“Why now?” you asked

“It has been difficult to find you before. When I finally managed to find the name of Victor Sinclair, it was impossible to find where Ambrose was. I promise we’ve been looking for you for quite a while now.” he explained

“You could have looked for us too” Lydia said with a little bit of venom in her voice; a venom you used to know so much. It made you want to throw up but you didn’t show anything.

“You abandoned me.” you simply replied

“And we want you back” Sean said before his mother could reply “But we don’t have a lot of time” he continued

He proceeded to explain that your mother was heavily sick and that she needed a very expensive treatment they couldn’t pay for her. They needed your help, they needed your money, they needed you in their lives.

The little girl inside you wanted to cry; she wanted to be a good girl to her family, she wanted to obey like she used to. She thought she could finally be loved by her parents and to show them how useful she could be.

But you had grown up, and you now knew what it was to be loved and wanted. You didn’t need them for that, even if a toxic part of you wished to know more of Sean; to understand why he was loved by your parents when they never cared about you.

However, you were smart so you refused to help them and to be part of their family. Your answer displeased your parents who started to tell you all the awful things they used to yell at you. They woke up all your most primitive insecurities; the ones they created when you were a child and the ones you could barely make shut up.

You were a waste of space, you were clingy, stupid, you were talking too much, you were asking too much, you were unlovable and pathetic, you were going to end all alone because even your real family couldn’t stand you, you didn’t deserve to be part of anything.

Sean tried to appease the situation but you got up and left without a word. You didn’t want to give them that kind of power over you. You didn’t want to cry in front of them; you just wanted to come back home, where you felt safe and loved.

You noticed the missed calls from Bo and Lester, the messages from Vincent. You sent a message on the family group chat “On my way home, sorry I’m later than I thought I’d be”. Bo instantly offered to give you a ride but you refused. You needed some time to yourself, to calm down.

One thing was certain: you didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened.

You didn’t know how they would react to such news and you were afraid they wouldn’t want you anymore in their lives. What if they realised you were indeed unbearable, clingy, stupid, too talkative? What if they realised your parents were right to abandon you? What if they thought family was too important and that you needed to get back to yours?

When you parked your car outside the house, the three men instantly opened the front door to welcome you home. They quickly were all over you, checking on you and asking you what was going on. It warmed your heart and it appeased you a little bit. You were loved, you needed to remind yourself that.

You still barely managed to smile at them and you weren’t hungry. You told them you were going to go to bed, but they weren’t going to let you go that easily. You had always told them what was wrong. You were far too important to them for them to drop the subject. If something was wrong, then it was their duty to find a solution.

They needed you to be happy.

Despite your arguments, they settled you on one of the kitchen chairs and Bo knelt in front of you as Vincent brought his chair closer to yours. Lester was behind you, his hands on your shoulders in a comforting way while Jonesy was whining at your feet. They coaxed you into telling them the truth. After a little while, you finally let escape the words that were burning your heart, throat and mouth.

“My biological family found me”

Pure panic wracked through the three men as they exchanged a look. They couldn’t understand what was going on. Their first thought was “Are we losing her?” and then “We have to get rid of them or to lock her up. We can’t lose her.”

“They are dead,” Bo simply said, trying to make sense of the situation.

You only had the strength to shake your head, before you started crying. And it broke the men’s hearts. They had no idea what was going on, but they did their best to comfort you with soft cuddles and gentle words. It had been such a long time ago since the last time they saw you crying and they remembered very well how much they hated it. They felt quite powerless but they kept trying to make you feel better.

“Ya sure it’s really them?” Lester tried to question and you nodded

“They know too much for them to not be… And I recognised my parents. Can’t fucking believe they had a son…” you babbled and the mention of another man tense the brothers even more. A brother could so easily take their place, and they couldn’t let that happen. You were a Sinclair. “He tried to be nice to me, but how can I trust him?” you whispered

“Ya can’t darl’. What do they want from you anyways?” Bo replied, trying to hide his anger

“They said they want me back, but it’s for my money because she is sick” you said, crying even more

“Those fuckers. She should die then. They ain’t your family” Bo groaned

“They said they didn’t come back to get me because I was too much” you continued, needing everything out so the brothers could comfort you

“Ya ain’t too much” Bo replied with annoyance now; he was getting really mad at those people

“We love ya so damn much, ya know it” Lester whispered to you “They ain’t deservin’ your tears” he added

“And we can get rid of them if it could make you happy again” Vincent signed and it instantly made you stop crying.

You stared at him, wondering if it was indeed what you wanted.

“I don’t want the police to find you. And Sean…” you started

“What ‘bout him?” Bo asked, grabbing your face into his right hand, for your attention to be on him.

Your eyes widened as this time you heard it in his voice; the love, the jealousy and the worry. You seemed to have forgotten how possessive Sinclairs were over their own people. You dried your tears and tried to calm down, before softly smiling at the three of them.

It was going to be alright again, you knew it.

Part 3

#house of wax #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x sister #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x sister #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x sister #sinclair!brothers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x sister

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issues4him · 3 months ago

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Draco x fem reader who always picks at her lips due to extreme anxiety and her hands are like always covered in blood and her and Draco makeout and he accidently bites her lip which causes it to bleed?

omg!? this is crazy bc i ALWAYS pick my lips til their literally dripping blood bc of my anxiety lol twinnin' fr. also sorry if this is ass i’m so eepy & sick.

𐙚 anxiety

IN WHICH - y/n picks at her lips from anxiety; draco finds out as they're making out.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

anxiety was a killer. it always had been for y/n since she was just a child. growing up in a toxic household caused abnormalities in the way she reacted to things.

whenever her anxiety got bad, she resorted to the one thing she thought she could control--picking her lips.

she first discovered this habit at 13, after years of her fathers continued torment. minutes after she started, they were covered in blood and her lips were bruised for the next week.

draco started to notice this unhealthy habit when they first began dating. he’d always smack her hand away from her mouth when he’d catch her picking at them.

obviously, he hated she was hurting herself to try and find some sort of comfort, but he also hated the way it made her lips feel when they were kissing. he thought it felt like licking sandpaper with as rough as they were.

y/n’s brain had been getting to her all week, with exams coming up, drama at home, and loads of homework. she had been feeling so overwhelmed and anxious.

her lips were being picked at multiple times a day throughout the school week. her pointer finger and thumb nails were stained red with her blood. her lips red with hints of purple. they hurt to touch, yet she couldn’t stop herself from picking at the sensitive skin.

draco knew y/n was feeling overwhelmed by life’s challenges lately, so he decided to suprise her with some flowers and a sweet treat.

draco currently stands outside y/n’s door, a soft smile on his face as he waits patiently for her to answer. he shifts the bouquet to one hand, adjusting it to ensure the flowers look their best, and holds the box of treats in the other.

as the door swings open, draco’s smile widens. he holds out the bouquet of flowers towards y/n, the vibrant colors of the pink tulips standing out against the box of sweets in his hand.

“surprise,” he says warmly. “i know you’ve been feeling a bit down in the dumps lately, so i wanted to bring you these.”

y/n smiled brightly, visibly appreciative of the man in front of her.

draco's heart warms as he sees the genuine smile on y/n's face. he had hoped she would like his surprise, but the sight of her eyes lighting up reassures him that his plan was a success.

“i also brought these,” he says, lifting the box in his hand slightly, “your favorite sweet treat. i wanted to make sure you had something to snack on while you enjoy the flowers.”

“awe, dray,” his heart flutters at the nickname. “you didn’t have to.” she smiles, unable to contain her gratefulness.

he just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “i know.”

the pair went inside y/n’s dorm room, cuddling up on her bed, occasionally snacking on the treats draco brought.

draco absentmindedly traces patterns on her spine with his fingers, occasionally stealing glances at her face to ensure she’s happy and relaxed.

‘she’s so beautiful’ draco’s mind couldn’t help but think.

his hand slowly comes up to softly cup her jaw, forcing her to look up at him.

without saying a word, draco leans in and plants a soft kiss on her lips, waiting for her to initiate the next one.

y/n leaned in, placing another soft kiss on his lips.

“my beautiful girl.” draco whispered, forehead leaned against hers, looking into her big y/e/c eyes.

she smiled sheepishly, glancing elsewhere. their lips found each other again, slowly but surely. draco takes the box of treats and placed them on the nightstand behind him, never leaving her lips,

he makes his way on top of her, legs on either side of her hips.

their kiss got more and more passionate, draco and y/n licking each others mouths and moaning softly into each other.

though, the excitement seemed to end for draco when he bit her bottom lip, softly tugging at it and he suddenly had the taste of iron on his tongue.

draco quickly pulls back with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at y/n’s lips.

“w-what?” y/n asked, sounding a little worried.

as he examined her lips, he realized what he had done.

“are you okay?” draco asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“w-yeah? why?” y/n was confused why he was asking her this.

“honey, your lip just busted open.” draco said, quickly getting up to find some tissues.

y/n groaned, knowing she’s gonna hear the same tangent she’s heard a hundred times before.

“y/n you need to stop picking at your lips. they’re all bruised and bloody for merlin’s sake.” Draco sighed, dabbing a tissue along your lip.

“it’s not that easy.” y/n mumbled.

“i know, y/n,” draco looked at her, “i know you can’t really control it. i know you do it subconsciously. but it’s not okay and i know you know that. i hate seeing my pretty girl like this.” he softly strokeed the side of her face with his fingers.

“i hate it too.” tears form at the brim of her eyes, clearly unhappy with herself.

“c’mere baby,” draco pulls her onto his lap, “we’ll figure something out together. we’re gonna kick your anxiety in its ass.” she chuckled.

she smiled softly through her unhappiness, knowing she had a boyfriend who was going to be with her every step of her journey.

she felt secure. like she’d never be alone again.

#draco malfoy fluff #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #harry potter #draco is so effing cute #draco malfoy #gryffindor #harry potter fanfiction

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milykins · 5 months ago

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TMNT Headcanon – When They’re Sick

You would think the guys never get sick but they’re just as susceptible as you are and they all handle it differently.

Aged Up Characters

Bayverse Turtles

Individual TMNT x Reader

Mikey

Mikey will turn into a big baby when he’s sick. He wants all the attention, all the amenities and all of the cuddles. He will whine and act like he’s dying and that everyone needs to be nicer to him because he’s sick. He will also be bad about taking his medicine, especially if it’s the liquid kind. Good luck trying to get him to take Buckly's. He’ll request you to do silly things like spoon-feed him his soup or having Vicks rubbed on his plastron even though Donnie told him it wouldn’t work. Mikey will request soup, crackers, toast, anything his little heart desires and expect you to wait on him hand and foot. He’ll burrito-wrap himself up and stay on the couch for days until he starts to improve. When he finally starts feeling better he’ll apologize for annoying everyone and bake cookies or brownies as a peace offering.

Raph

This guy will hole himself up inside of his room when he’s sick for however long it takes. He’ll sneakily emerge for food and disappear right after. He’ll raid Donnie’s cabinet for medicine much to his annoyance because he'll leave it a complete mess. When asked how he’s feeling it will be “I’m fine.” No matter what it’s “I’m fine, quit asking.” Raph’s worst habit is trying to push everyone away including you when he’s sick. This is due in part of him refusing in infect his family with whatever he’s sick with and stubborn pride to be able to take care of himself. He will begrudgingly accept your help if it’ll help YOU feel better. He is the worst patient though, because he'll still try to act like he's fine and accepts the bare minimum in the way of medicine and care. You will discover though, that if you rub his shell when he’s sick he’ll churr for you. He can't help it. It’s quite a sight seeing the biggest and strongest turtle curled up in a ball of blankets. After he recovers, he’ll quietly thank you for your help and apologize for being a dick to you.

Leo

Leo will steadfastly refuse your help, he is fine and will take care of himself, there’s no need to ‘fuss over him’. All he needs is time and his tea, thank you very much. He is the most difficult one to take care of because he will continuously refuse help until you just start helping him anyway and may even need to put him in his place. If he’s got a fever/cough/cold and it’s getting worse you will order him to go rest and bring him tea, soup, medicine, whatever he needs. Leo will reluctantly come to the realization that he feels so rotten that your help is very much appreciated. The more delirious and sick he gets, the bigger the baby he becomes and he’ll actually ask for things like being cuddled. Once he’s feeling better he’ll downplay how sick he was but thank you for your assistance nonetheless. Formally, with a bow.

Donnie

Donnie’s toxic trait is completely ignoring the fact that he's sick and continues on working and living his life despite feeling like a bag of garbage. He will likely work himself too hard and collapse from his symptoms. His brothers will put him to bed and then it’s your turn to put on the doctor hat. You ignore his weak protests and get to taking care of him. Once he’s been forced into his bedroom to rest he’s relatively easy to take care of. He’ll take whatever medicine you provide for him and eat his soup like a good turtle. He’s not used to being cared for like this. He’s usually the one taking care of everyone else. Finally being unable to do so is a humbling experience for him. He will be very grateful for your help and will present you with a gift once he's recovered.

#tmnt bayverse #aged up characters #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo #donatello #tmnt x reader #caring for loved ones

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babyleostuff · 2 years ago

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hii ! i absolutely adore your svt as your boyfriends series and i was wondering if you could do chan's version? tysm, hope you're having a good day 🫧🤎

so happy you enjoy the series love! here is your Chan request <3

DINO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

𓆩♡𓆪 he is so so cuddly, i’m going to cry

𓆩♡𓆪 always had his hand on you when you’re in big crowds

𓆩♡𓆪 because he doesn’t want to lose you :(((

𓆩♡𓆪 and is afraid that something might happen to you :(((

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves having you wrapped up in his arms, with your head resting on his shoulder

𓆩♡𓆪 not only does he gets to hug you, but also place gentle kisses on your forehead and cheeks

𓆩♡𓆪 definitely cuddles with you before sleep and while watching movies

𓆩♡𓆪 gets so happy (and shy) whenever you praise him

𓆩♡𓆪 because usually he thinks that he can do an even better job at certain dance steps or vocal parts

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are there right by his side, to cheer on him and tell him what an amazing job he does

𓆩♡𓆪 he loves spending late nights at the dance studio

𓆩♡𓆪 when you two are left alone for yourselves and can finally get a bit of freedom from other people

𓆩♡𓆪 he thrives off of your compliments about his dancing, but also loves to drag you to the middle of the dance floor to teach you some moves (even if you can’t dance, he looks at you like you’re his entire world)

𓆩♡𓆪 because you are

𓆩♡𓆪 he just looks so stupidly in love with you, with a huge grin on his face and constant giggles leaving his mouth

𓆩♡𓆪 but he wouldn’t have it any other way

𓆩♡𓆪 Chan gets jealous quite easily

𓆩♡𓆪 not because he is possessive or toxic in any way

𓆩♡𓆪 but he is afraid that someone might steal you from him

𓆩♡𓆪 no matter how confident and cocky he is on stage (especially when dancing), he is rather insecure about himself

𓆩♡𓆪 it doesn't surprise him when people flirt with you, well, because look at you, IT'S YOU

𓆩♡𓆪 he just kinds of sulks, but doesn’t approach you, not wanting to come off as clingy or overbearing

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are quick to comfort him and tell him that no other person in this world can take you away from him

𓆩♡𓆪 because you are just as in love with him as he is with you

𓆩♡𓆪 he ADORES taking care of you, in any shape or form

𓆩♡𓆪 even though he usually gets treated as the youngest, he has an urge to take care of people around him

𓆩♡𓆪 and as you are one of the most important people in his life, he makes it his life goal and mission to take a great care of you

𓆩♡𓆪 he helps you, even if you didn't ask him

𓆩♡𓆪 if you’re sick, there is no way you’re getting out of your bed

𓆩♡𓆪 when you’re on your period, he is already on his way to the nearest convenience store to buy you pads and your favourite chocolate

𓆩♡𓆪 will never let you go home alone at night, he will always pick you up (except for when he’s away of course)

𓆩♡𓆪 and if you don’t call him to pick you up, he’s either having an heart attack, because he’s scared that something might happen to you or is sulking

𓆩♡𓆪 but at the same time, no matter how much he enjoys looking out for you

𓆩♡𓆪 he is so grateful that you take care of him as well

𓆩♡𓆪 because he has a habit of overworking himself and before you, he had no one there for him (except for the boys, of course)

𓆩♡𓆪 but you are literally everything he could have ever asked for, and more

𓆩♡𓆪 loves taking candid photos of you and using them as his wallpaper

𓆩♡𓆪 especially when he’s on tour, because he misses you so much

𓆩♡𓆪 you definitely have at least one small matching item

𓆩♡𓆪 because it reminds you of each other when you’re apart

𓆩♡𓆪 loves when you share your interests and hobbies with you

𓆩♡𓆪 whenever he has free time, he likes to incorporate both his and your’s passions into date nights

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re each other's safe places

your messages <3

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baneonono · 2 months ago

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watch house for the first time with me

we’ve made it through season 2 and through the first five episodes of season 3 and there was lots to scream about. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am going to hate the whole house gets arrested plot. like I’m gonna furious typing out whole essays type mad but we’ll see.

GUYS I WANT HOUSE TO WEAR THE SUIT. I UNDERSTAND THAT HE DOESNT THINK IT MATTERS BUT IM LOSING MY MIND. I KNOW EVERYTHINGS GOING TO BE OKAY BUT IM STRESSED AND CAN HOUSE JUST WEAR A SUIT

Can everyone just be fixed please I don’t want to deal with this anymore

If that baby died, I’m crying

Are we starting Wilson Cuddy stuff because boring

Chase working at the nicu😭😭😭😭

HE CHOSE NICU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chase working with kids😭😭😭😭😭😭

Honestly house is real for wanting foreman to fight with him. Like it’s just his way of wanting original thoughts and that is relatable

Wilson checking cuddy for cancer-

NO THE BABY DIED

Chase my baby boy I adore you it’s okay

Cuddy wanted Wilson to be the father of her child😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna break down if we get a scene of Wilson hearing this

House being a piano player is actually one of my favorite things about him

Dude I trust House but like I wouldn’t trust him that much @ cuddy

IS WILSON JEALOUS THAT HOUSE HAS ANOTHER FRIEND

I would do so much for James Wilson. I don’t think yall understand. I love him dearly

The entire diagnosis department pacing is so funny

SOMEONE SHOT HOUSE. BABE THAT IS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT JERK

“I wanted to see you suffer” girl he suffers every day you just had to come into the hospital and watch

“She killed herself” still not House’s fault bro

Wilson doing houses physical therapy is hilarious

I need house back

This episode is weird

What in the world did I just watch

Season threeeeeeee

Okay I am so grateful we got the scene of Cuddy and Wilson trying to come up with cases to give house. Like😭😭😭😭😭 I love them

Chases haircut😭 he looks amazing

House lost his leg pain and got 10x the whimsy

“I’m not going away” please never go away Wilson

Wilson. House was right. What do you mean you can’t tell him.

Wilson maybe you should tell house that he was right. Listen to Cuddy. Wilson I adore you why are you doing this to me.

Chase winking at the parents🥰

Whaaaattttt lying to house has consequences. Telling him that he’s bad at his job affects him. That’s so craaaazzzzy

Oh Wilson comparing house to Icarus, you’re so iconic. I love my toxic old men yaoi with Greek mythology references. That’s actually the only way I’ll tolerate it

Everyone is going through so many radical position shifts this episode. Guys can we have some consistency (@ cameron)

People just go running to Wilson when they want house to do something huh.

I love when house operates on patients. Just love him entirely in his element

Awww house is proud of Cameron for killing a dude, it’s always nice to hear from our dad that he’s proud of us

House you do not need your carpet back. Why are you like this. Iconic but why

I need this girl to leave. House isn’t that attractive

I’m glad Cuddy is standing her ground on this one

Love how Wilson walked in on them in his office and just was like “weird typo”

Can Cameron stop psychoanalysing house

Need this girl to stop

Foreman you pawning that off in Wilson was not slick

HOUSE BEING GOOD WITH KIDS I LOVE TO SEE IT(also just taking drugs)

Wilson don’t let house out of your sight while he’s drugged, he’s got a girl really into him and I don’t think we should let him alone

House😭😭😭😭😭 please stop throwing away Wilson’s gifts

Cameron did not need to sit next to house

WILSON JUST WALKING OUT OF HIS OFFICE

Thinking about the triplets going all over the hospital looking for house this episode

😭😭😭😭😭😭house got a gift😭😭😭😭😭😭oh my little neurodivergent bonding

This husband being so ride or die. I love to see it. Yes sir saw an opportunity to step in and took it.

Oh she’s sick, okay well, we’ll get to see more of him?

House leaving to go break up Wilson flirting with a girl. Bro just say you’re jealous and go

THE LOOK ON CHASES FACE AT FOREMAN WHEN CAMERON SAID SHES HITTING THAT WAS SO FUNNY. BABY BOY WHAT WAS THAT

“Great I haven’t committed a felony yet today” -Chase

Guys the pill only stops pregnancy, not STDs, maybe they wear conforms to prevent STDs

Why does Wilson just do things for house. I mean beyond being in love with him.

I hate this apologzie to the patient thing today. I don’t care about this stupid jerk. I prefer my smart jerks

Really was not expecting an incest plot from this show but I should’ve.

House getting arrested is insane

#house md #medical malpractice md #gregory house #james wilson #alison cameron #dr cuddy #robert chase #eric foreman #hilson

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xocasper · 7 months ago

Text

it’s beautiful how dynamic life can be.

when the internet found me, i was sick. i wasn’t dying, it wasn’t terminal, but i was undoubtedly decaying with every passing day. i spent weeks in bed, sleeping and starving, and some nights i’d mindlessly wander through dark parts of town. and i can tell you with 100% certainty that none of that is as poetic as it sounds.

when i left tumblr, i was nearly dead. genuinely. i would not like to trigger anyone, so i am warning you now that the next paragraph will cover a severe eating disorder.

i will keep it as simple as saying that i had a bmi of 13. i couldn’t leave my room. i was on a mood stabilizer that decreased my appetite. my body physically rejected and regurgitated everything i ate. my stomach was swollen to the size of pregnant person. i looked like i was a good seven months along. my body was holding onto every nutrient it could find. i lived with my parents at the time, and they body shamed me and constantly commented on the size of my stomach. my dad stood in my bedroom and watched as i chugged an entire bottle of magnesium citrate because he believed it was constipation, not starvation. no one wanted to help me in the ways i needed. to this day, i have no idea how my body survived that much trauma.

that was a year ago.

in a single year, i gained twenty pounds. i fell in love. i discovered that i am not aromantic, but simply cannot harbor romantic feelings towards men. i faced years of internalized homophobia due to religion with that realization. i had my first true heartbreak. many of them, over and over with the same person. the relationship was so toxic towards the end that they caused me to get re-diagnosed with type 1 bipolar. and no, i am not passing blame. i faced harassment and lies and stalking from them and their friends. it sent me into a manic episode so severe that i flew thousands of miles away because i believed that if i stayed, i would end my life—hence the re-diagnosis.

this is not all a trauma dump though.

life IS dynamic.

i finally think i’m beautiful. i’m learning to love my body. i’m accepting of weight gain. i’ve decided to enroll in college and will be leaving an incredibly toxic environment to stay on campus. i got a better position at work. i have wonderful friends. i stopped drinking excessively. i saw one of my favorite music groups live. i went on vacation for the first time in years. i left a debilitating relationship the day before my birthday. i must’ve cried too much the day i broke up with them because for the first time in years, i didn’t cry on my birthday. i got a surgery that changed my life in a million ways.

i’ve felt things i didn’t know were possible. i’ve cried until my eyes were swollen shut the next morning. i’ve had pregnancy scares. i’ve had ER visits. i’ve earned money and i’ve burned it. i’m in love with a girl.

i’ve learned that life is not fixed. change is possible. love is possible. the internet is not lying when they say that the sickness won’t last forever. the pain is temporary. this is not the end of the road.

i have more notifications than i can count. i have more followers than i ever imagined. but this isn’t about the numbers—it’s real, tangible proof that people will love you when you’re gone. you will not be forgotten, so do not leave. it’s worth it to stay. it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to hit the bottom of the well, and it’s okay to stay there for a while before you have the strength to pull yourself back up.

i’m incredibly grateful for everyone who read my work. whether you clicked on one or devoured my masterlist, thank you. you appreciated the only thing i loved about myself. i’m proud to say that there are so many things i love about myself now, past my writing and creativity.

you are all beautiful, kind people. it’s not always easy to see that, but existence is the most beautiful thing in the world. every day, you exist, and that in itself is a remarkable thing.

so thank you, for everything. i hope to hear from you soon.

xo,

casper

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wildbluesorbit · 1 year ago

Text

London II: Uncensored || JTK

18+MDNI

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

A/N: Howdy! I am honestly so nervous about the turn of this story. Although London is only my first, and is honestly a big smut sandwich, I’m a whore for character development and really wanted to challenge myself to dive into the potential of these characters …for now. This piece in particular exists in two variations. In the interest of everyone looking for the easier read, mama @tommie-gvf advised a revision to care for all their soft readers, which dawned the “London: Refined” alteration. However, for all my trauma junkies alike you’re in the right place. I still wanted to share my original draft for the full teeth-gritting, soul-grating, angsty flourish. I’m really crossing my fingers y’all enjoy the twists and turns to come but I am honestly already awed by all the love received. As always I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think!

p.s. I apologize for all these alliterations you’re about to read

Summary || Wounds fresh and head spinning, you try and find your footing without Jake in the picture. However, you are found by the dawn of a different peril.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, depressive disposition, sickness such as fever, fatigue, vertigo, nausea, vomiting, and fainting, verbal aggression, graphic depictions of physical aggression/voilence/sexual assault and bodily injuries such as bruising, gashing, swelling and inflammation, and body aches, ptsd, nervous breakdown, mentions of alcoholic consumption and drugging, brief mentions of being undressed and bathed while unconscious, technical kidnap, allusions to rape

Word Count || 7.4k+

The sweeping sound of the door swinging shut behind Jake only solidifies his parting words. Like a fool praying for snow in the desert, you remain still, naively pinning for him to rush back through that door and take back what he said. You swear to every star if he will just reappear you’ll forgive and forget every trivial thing he’s said to hurt you.

You are more than capable of leading a fruitful life without him, you just have no desire to. With every molecule of your being you ache for him to please just walk back through that door.

When he doesn’t, you can’t help the hot tears that now downpour.

Consternation weighs heavy on your limbs with the understanding of just how bonded you had become with the concept that there is always a next time with Jake. You had taken advantage, maybe even abused, his phone number underneath your finger on speed dial; you became cozy in the comfort of knowing that when you pressed it he would always answer.

It harrows you to think Jake might be right. Maybe you are no good for each other. Maybe he did the right thing. Too little too late is a cruel ascertainment; Jake is not just an ecstasy, a high you procured an addiction for, but he had become a sanctuary. One you’ve never met in anyone else. A shelter not even you could provide for yourself and like a child you went and broke it.

You will your begrudging limbs to ooze forward but as soon as your feet lead their trek the walls around you begin to whirl worse than before. You don’t dare let it deter you though; you fear the grief that threatens to swallow you whole in that very bathroom if you’re to stop for air.

You catch the corners of the sink for stability, your disheveled appearance ruthlessly relays your casualties. You smooth your hair down, wipe your running mascara, and run your hands down your skirt.

You sloppily make your exit out of the bathroom, no longer being able to withstand the ghosts of the haunted room where Jake had just kissed you goodbye.

You spill into the hall and rashly scour for any signs of your deserter. You figure he’s fled from the flat entirely as his twin has now vanished as well. Despite the vertigo, you propel yourself towards the table where Claire is without a Kiszka twin as well, but is now flirting with her own stranger.

Positively glowing, she radiates delight. A presence to be demolished by the foreboding whirlwind that you are. The last thing you want is to be the helpless girl who’s best friend can’t finish her regaling tale of a handsome stranger because of your shitshow, especially when Claire has made her stance sorely evident.

Mercy for Claire’s night presents itself in the form of a fleeting drive-by. You swiftly breeze past with a sweeping touch on her shoulder and briefly whisper in her ear that you need some air and are going to step out for a minute.

You know she protests but you make it your mission to distance yourself by half the room by the time she can process your abrupt bulletin and conceptualize her inquiries of, “But..," and, "What happened?”

It helps that your vertigo has germinated past tolerance; the sensation demands you not slow down or your body might continue its course without you, making a rolling tumbleweed out of you, held prisoner by this illness’s tempestuous winds.

You clumsy and cleat a path through the thicket of socializing bodies until you finally topple into an exit. You sling your body mass against the heavy portal to be transported to a stairwell that you pray spits you out in the main street.

You thrust yourself upon the railing and cling to it as you slosh down the stairs like a teetering toddler. The stairway traffic makes its way around you as if you are some stationary obstacle, some even slow down to behold the scene unraveling on the steps. Fortunately, the only concern that permeates through the fumes is the night’s cool air at the bottom of the staircase that promises remedy, and you have only a flight to go.

You brake your staggering down the incline to briefly rest against the wall. Fatigue has found a home as it settles in your bones. However, regret seeks you out the moment you become motionless as the spinning now invites a monstrous nausea.

Your want for fresh air has mutated into a need for your own bed. Any and all will to stay awake evaporates into the torrid air, and the concept of supporting your own weight any longer than necessary becomes a daunting notion.

You coach yourself into mobility again, telling yourself that you just need to make it out to the street and into a cab. You would feel better after you have a chance to recompose in a taxi until you reach your flat.

After you endure the marathon of the final flight, you achieve ground level; the price being your senses, including your best judgment, fogged by the fever’s stupor.

Foolishly, you pour out through the first exit door you spot and catch your weight against the opposing wall of a narrow alley.

You clamber against the wall a bit further to see where the alley lets out. By the time you realize the backway has no outlet the door has swung itself shut, the unnerving slam of the metal mass sending a jolt through your entire frame

You sluggishly creep back towards the door, your stomach kneading itself into nauseating knots as you discover the steel barricade is locked from the inside with no way back to shelter. With your sickly strength, you bang and beat on the door, begging for someone to free you.

You can barely hear your own knocks suffocated beneath the overbearing bass. Having foolishly spent what was so little of your energy left on trying to be heard through the steel frame, you finally accept that no one is going to find you unless they come looking for you.

You slump back against the wall once more, the fever journeys to the pit of your stomach. You hunch over, your weight finding balance against the brick wall and some sort of electrical box as your whole body begins to tremble devoutly. You burn alive as the high-grade heat rises to your face and you expel your guts right there.

Having all frail muscles tense up in commitment to the deed, you plunge to your knees and land on all fours. As soon as you feel able, you rock back on your legs and wipe the residual sickness from your mouth. You optimistically anticipate the familiar wave of relief to wash over you but it never arrives.

This sickness was not brought on by alcohol, this is something else entirely.

You momentarily careen, scrambling to summon strength to find your way back on two feet again just as the alley door swings open and you hear Hunter gasp out your name.

He runs over to you, paying absolutely no mind to the door due to shut behind him.

“The door,” you wheeze out and weakly gesture towards the entryway just as the lock clicks securely.

“What- Oh, I’ve got a key, don’t worry,” he mumbles as he leans down to gain access to you, “What happened?”

Your touch shoots for Hunter’s shoulders to regain your structure and you prompt him to help you back inside. Your request generates something of an indecipherable grimace to dart across his features. You can see the cogs turning in his head and you find your hands instinctively retract back to your sides. You watch the prospect of salvation wither away before you.

He must recognize your sudden vigilance as he immediately agrees to comply, but only after he’s made sure you’re okay. Hunter bluntly forces his mulish hands to your waist and sharply hoists you up against the wall, triggering upsetting shards to pierce your aching muscles.

Once you become vertical, you expect him to retire as your personal forklift and give you breathing room but he instead confines himself within your orbit, hands still digging into your hips.

“Okay, I’m up now,” you try to shoo him, “Would you just open the door?”

“Not yet,” he protests impetuously.

No longer bothered to maintain the cordial facade, Hunter’s gaze is now fully enamored by your pallid body; panic’s tide rising higher and higher.

His hands, ice cold against your feverish skin, shocks a hiss from you as his fingers slither their way under the hem of your top. He shrilly hushes you and takes liberty to plod his trail upwards towards your ribs. Forcibly, Hunter dips his fingertips into every ridge in your cage, eliciting another pained sibilation from you.

You make an effort to jerk away from his molestive frisking but are far too wasted to make any sort of adequate escapade. You huff at your defeat as your exertion only results in you scantily swaying to the side. A defenseless speck absurdly fighting to escape the current it's been sentenced to.

You manage to limply place your hands against his chest in an attempt to disturb his afflictions.

“I’m just trying to help,” Hunter poorly disguises his unwelcomed touch as a well-intentioned examination of your health.

With your hands still planted against his sternum you thrust in order to pry him off, but you know the only force you create is a dull pressure, your fingertips barely even sinking into his flesh. He almost snickers at your second failed escape; fatigue only setting in deeper by the second.

“Get off me you, fucking creep,” you grunt, still sickly yet stubbornly squirming.

“Oh, really-,” he hisses, ”you were so into it earlier though. Why are you being such a fucking bitch now?”

Hunter intrusively shoves his gangly frame into yours, further crushing your achy flesh into the callous concrete rooted against your backside.

He brutally crowds your head with his, invading your earshot, “Keep squirming if you want to make this worse for yourself.”

You ignore his warnings and he closes in trying to force his mouth onto yours. His foul breath reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and an unidentifiable sulphuric odor that stirs your nausea. You snap your head to the side to gag.

“Be that way but your body won’t be able to fight off that drug much longer. I’m only taking what would have been mine had that wanker not ruined my night.”

And there it is, he confirms your suspicion of foul play and you immediately remember how he brought you a drink and seemed so pleased when you finished it. But this isn’t what angers you most from his admission, but the way he slanders Jake.

The very thought of Jake’s name in Hunter’s cruel disparaging mouth catapults you to new heights of contempt. He doesn’t even know Jake and doesn’t deserve to. How could he possibly categorize your Jake and a piece of shit like himself in the same league.

Although the last few affairs had been less than ideal, you had seen the most concentrated parts of Jake. To most he is some mysterious charismatic poetic rockstar invention of a man, but whether he meant to or not, Jake had let you behind the curtain to reveal the inventor.

You found behind the facade is a truly kind and attentive man. A man who loves to laugh and will do whatever he can to bring a smile to anyone else. A man who hides behind big words because he still gets nervous when he speaks. Someone who doesn’t like being angry and always tries to be the bigger person. Someone raised on chaos, morality, and the classics. And no matter what he endures, he’s a family man first. He likes to operate on a low profile but won’t hesitate to become loud and brash to make sure everyone around him is taken care of. A delicate wholesome rarity. To know Jake is to love him and you know anything he asks of you is already his.

Therefore, hearing Hunter traduce Jake’s name like some foul swear, only to implicate your night that would always belong to Jake was actually his set you ablaze.

You rear your head back towards Hunter’s face and spit on target, “Let go of me you sick fuck!”

He flinches as your saliva coats his face and his lip peels back in a snarl of disgust. You can’t help but feel some regain of control as one of his hands releases you to wipe his new glaze.

You unwisely decree this your opportunity to flee, gaining some advantage by shoving him away. Yet, Hunter only refills the space and barbarically thrusts you back into his pinhold. Your vulnerable skin catches the teeth of the exposed brick as it grates into your backside, eliciting a broken cry from you.

He irately swipes the back of his hand over the rest of his contaminated features and lifts it to the air in a fist. He tempestuously brings it down to make agonizing contact between your eye and cheekbone.

The sudden blow sends trauma throbbing throughout your head. The abrupt pain bleeding into the drug induced haze is paralyzing. You stand apathetic, striving to stay conscious at this point. Hunter matches his left forearm up to your shoulders to pin you against the wall and he moves his right to untie your blouse Jake had just gracefully done up minutes before. He yanks the material off your shoulders, the dark’s frigid wind and Hunter’s greedy gawk pricks your helpless frame against your concession.

Hunter reaches his hand to grope you freely now, lingering in annoyance where you're sure the love marks Jake had left behind are beginning to develop.

Even as hope for some sort of salvation begins to flicker out, you refuse to concede in your tussle to shimmy out of his hold.

He lets out an offended grunt, as if you are being a rude victim. He rolls his eyes and moves swiftly and precisely to jab you in the ribs, knocking all air out of your lungs and remaining will from your limbs; as well as pummel whatever fortitude your body was using to brave the drug’s gravity.

“I don't even know why you’re being so stubborn, you’re little wanker boyfriend isn’t around to see what a slut you are,” he growls through concentration and clenched teeth.

Out of all the elaborate ways he could have invented to torment you, this cuts you deepest. Simply because he is right.

Jake isn’t here. And it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t driven him away, you wouldn’t be here.

You’ve never possessed a moment more worthless than this moment. The thought of Jake seeing you like this is a weight you are sure you wouldn’t survive. You hope to never see him again. He would be absolutely heartbroken.

All the torment and tears you had stifled while fighting for your freedom suddenly bubbles and bursts to the surface. You are startled by the loud ugly sob that leaves you. A howl so eerie and animalistic, you hardly recognize it as your own. You immediately throw your head up in a sharp inhale to abolish any other cries that plan to escape on their own accord, as if this would preserve some portion of your pride.

Hunter forcibly snatches your jaw into his hand and steers your face towards his so that no matter how you maneuver you are forced to hold him. His pupils swivel back and forth across your face studying this new breed of terror your eyes produce.

He curtly arrives at a diagnosis, “Oh, I see, he broke you.”

The last fiber of your sanity slipped through your clenched fists: the notion no matter how fucked up he was, he couldn’t possibly read how shattered you are. The only thought keeping your head just above the violent current.

But he now stripped that from you too.

The concept that he might feel some perverted pity for you only diminishes your spirit further. But as quickly as it comes, he zones back into his mission.

Instead of returning his hand to your chest, Hunter travels to fumble with the zipper of your skirt. As he struggles to pull it open, clarity of what is about to take place cuts through the smog. You contemplate what is about to be stolen from you and just how powerless you are to stop it; how you will most likely struggle with the unrelenting haunt of this moment for the rest of your days.

Your pathetic shrieks voidly echoes throughout the lifeless alleyway, “Stop! No- Red- Get off- please!”

He grows impatient, demanding you shut up as a note of tattering intersects your imploration. He mercilessly pinches the hem of your skirt and tears the material apart, the two assaulted shreds hanging from your hips granting him full access.

Enslaved to complete stupor, he’s admitted to run his fingers over the waistband of your underwear.

You finally accept this as your fate. You accept that this will be the horror story you will have to recite everytime someone inevitably asks why you are so prodigiously fucked up. You accept this is the warning label you will have to tow around for the rest of your existence.

Your teary vision starts to tunnel and you finally feel your conscious giving way to the void. You just hope it consumes you before his deed.

Just then, you feel a gap finally open between you and your oppressor. You spill onto unkind asphalt once again, scrambling to register what has occurred but you're unable to refocus. The only sight you can identify is the hazy reflective neon glow against the wet blacktop.

You flail about on the ground to best cover your indecency. As you can’t see, you listen for any clue of the phenomenon proceeding just above your head, except your audio is now faltering too.

You hear the slurs of two tussling and shouting. In between the intervals of din, a familiar rasp of your name rips through the tumultuous turbulence to grace your ears. Then again. And again.

You snap your head upwards to decipher whether this is just another trick of the drug. You can only make out his silhouette as your line of sight slowly becomes clouded with black spots.

It is Jake. It has to be. You need it to be.

Yet, you do not trust your senses as they are obviously failing. You hold your hand out to ward off the figure now reaching for you and faintly crawl away. The being flinches at your motion and frets your name out like a mantra, begging for something you can’t seem to process.

However, the poison in your blood holds no regard for this development. You are suddenly enwrapped in the amplified feverish fire you felt earlier and almost immediately eject the rest of your stomach.

All tension finally leaves your muscles as your body becomes a burden too heavy to support upright. You recognize the sensation of falling backwards but everything becomes so still, so quiet, so black before you ever feel the ground cruelly collide with you.

It's the sensation of the cool crisp white bed linens caressing your dormancy heated skin that wakes you. You force your lead heavy eyelids open and peer around what you suspect is a hotel room.

The space is dark except for a halo of light around the blackout curtained window, so you know it is daytime wherever you are. You tense in a stretch, freeing your bones of the deep slumber you had just escaped. You feel as if you have been asleep for a thousand years and struggle to recall anything existing before the darkness.

The recollection of how you ended up bedridden rushes through your mind in a searing headache. You spring yourself upward to find that the nausea and vertigo has left you but the febrile aching and a throbbing head remains.

Your first instinct is to flee until all at once your senses flurry with him.

Jake’s aroma fills the sheets and emits from your skin as well. You seek refuge in the sight of his well-loved shirt draped against your torso; along with a pair of boxers, and fuzzy socks. You assume he must have helped you shower and dress at some point.

You reach over to tug the remaining blanket off your limbs, the simple shoulder motion detonates a chain reaction of sore strain all over your body. A pain induced squeal resonates through you and against the foreign vanilla walls of the vapid hotel room.

You freeze and bite your bottom lip in an effort to stifle any other oncoming cries. You survey the room as if your siren can disturb anything within the lifeless compartment.

Nothing.

You draw in a deep breath against your aching rib’s wishes and wincingley scoot to the edge of the mattress to discover the bathroom is a few yards away. You vacillatingly make it on your feet, your legs shake as you stand but you are devoted to wobbling over to the bathroom.

Pitifully exerted from your trek, you throw your balance towards the counter and assign your weight to the marble slab by bracing the edge with your hand; careful to contain your yelps this time. You stabilize yourself before feeling out the wall behind you for a light switch, deliberate in your objective to only move the parts of your body necessary for this daunting task.

Immediately, regret pierces your eyes in blinding light. You swear the sudden attack on your sight is so vile it causes a ringing in your ears. What you logically know is mere seconds, seems to last for hours until your eyes finally focus.

As you cower your head to shield yourself from the bright sting, grisly bruises on your palms and legs that weren't visible in the bedroom are now illuminated.

You laggardly drag yourself over to the full body mirror in hopes the gruesome hues are an optical illusion and your reflection would prove you unharmed. You reexamine the skin in question, only for the glass to cruelly confirm your injuries. Sleeves of sporadic purple, green, yellow, and blue are strewn against your every limb.

You want so badly to be outraged at the sight. To be irate at how you were wronged. Yet the only words your mind will carve out for you are how could you be so foolish and so weak as to let this happen? It only further mocks your grief that you can’t seem to purchase any strand of anger.

But you don't let yourself succumb to the bleakness; your intuition anticipating the worst is yet to come.

You hesitantly raise your shirt to heed the discoloration traveling up your ribs. The sight abruptly brings back the petrifying sensation of Hunter excruciatingly shoving his prickly fingers into the crevices of your torso.

The intrusive recollection makes your stomach swell into your throat. For a brief instant, you think you might have to somehow shuffle to the toilet to be sick but you swallow it down.

You continue to raise your top past your breasts just enough to uncurtain your shoulders. The skin there is littered with dark fingerprint devised bruises.

It isn’t your victimhood now recorded all over your body that corrodes and eats away your insides, but is your inability to differentiate the assault from Jake's love marks. A palette of colors Jake left as a reminder in that moment you had given yourself to him completely; that he’d seen all of you, every last inch, and still he wanted more. He needed to consume you more than physically possible. A token he wants you to think of him just as much as he is thinking of you. A note that no matter how many times he unconvincingly tries to deny that he cares, he blatantly thinks of you as his. An objet d’art now defaced by the stains of a sick thief.

It is getting harder to see your reflection as grief starts to pool in your eyes and any desire you’d once had to examine your abrasions flees. You decide to barrel through the rest of your appraisal as you know your dark inquisitiveness will not let you rest till you have dug up the entirety of this aftermath’s hidden bones.

You try to lift the loose shirt completely from your body but are seized by an inadmissible fire catching throughout the flesh of your backside. Certain strips of your skin feel as if they’d split if you move too fast. Stubbornly, you trudge through the flames, determined to remove the piece of clothing. The sound of air shooting through your clenched teeth joins in with the rustling of the cotton material.

You finally rid yourself of the restriction and twist to see your back in the mirror, your expedition arriving at the concentration of the calamity; your skin tone a minority against the tyrenous bruising.

A shudder delivers the image of savagely being thrashed into that brick wall, rattling around your head like a pinball stuck on its course. A small sob drills its way into the room despite the defense of your palm sealing over your lips.

White rectangular bandages are taped exactly over where you had felt the splintering pressure threatening to tear your skin. You remove your hand from your mouth, no longer bothering to contain your shrills, and contort to the most accessible bandage starting at the bottom of your ribcage and extending to your pelvic bone. Your lethargic inertia only enables you to peel the material off slowly, the adhesive taking its time to part with your raw skin.

Fixating your gaze to your handiwork, you tug the gauze about halfway off to notice it is not white like the outside. The threads are dyed with streaks of dark red, brown, and discharge. Your eyes quickly flit up in the mirror to see a deep vile gash that hasn’t even yet begun to scab.

Your glistening brown eyes now overflow into warm streams down your cheeks. The left side of your face is pierced by a stinging sensation at the introduction of the salty tears.

You realize you have been avoiding your reflection above your shoulders and for the first time since the bar bathroom you allow yourself to study your own face. To your dismay, you discover your left eye and cheekbone are grotesquely swollen and bruised.

Ugly.

There is no other way to put it. No other word your brain would provide. No further way to break it down. You had never felt so broken and unlovable in your life.

You had never felt so fucking ugly.

You futilely attempt to wipe your tears away as they are already being replenished. As you vainly swat at your face your attention is drawn near the nape of your neck; alluring as it is the only pristine scene amongst your features. Your hair has been neatly brushed and delicately laid back into a single looped messy bun; just the way Jake always does his own.

A cruel notion ripples its way throughout your mind. Jake witnessed you beaten in that alley. He graciously undressed and bathed you and aided your wounds. He got to shelter you in his clothes and fix your hair and put you to bed.

And part of you hates him for it. You hate that he got to see you in such a vulnerable odious state. You hate that you let him.

How could he proclaim you are no good for each other only to turn around and take such inordinate care of you? You loathe his words of disownment that crash against such ardent acts of affection for you. This deep level of intimacy is the first for the two of you and most likely the last. Yet, you aren’t even sure if you were conscious, you certainly weren’t in your right mind. You don’t even get to archive the moment. He had no right.

You yank the band from your dotingly tied up hair, tangling it once again and thoroughly erase any evidence it had recently been combed. You thrust the band with as much might as your body will allow, intent for it to land in some bathroom abyss, never to be seen again.

Your glossy eyes dart to the population of hygienic products to pinpoint the first-aid supplies within the cluster. You swing your arm towards the kit, sending the medical equipment soaring off the counter. The clattering din of the tools crashing to the floor reverberates throughout the small room and rings in your ears.

You don’t even realize you are yelling until your voice cracks against you gasping for an air supply. You can’t bear the concept of facing your execrable appearance any longer and find your hands and knees bracing the piercing chill bathroom tile.

You give in to the malaise. You are swallowed whole by your own laments, the suite humming with the songs of your weeping howls. You have no will to ever cease your decimation. No desire to ever lift yourself from this very bathroom tile. You are going to decompose here.

But as quickly as you give in to your grief you are snatched from it. More than startling you, two hands from behind graze around your shoulders. You hadn’t heard any doors open or close, much less were you aware of any life stirring in the room.

Before any discernment or recognition can approach, you careen forward, leading with your pounding chest to cower near the floor.

You blare your terror in a panicked squeal, “No! Get off of me!”

“Whoa-,” the voice announces itself and you immediately recognize the lull as Jake, “hey- babygirl, you’re alright. It's me.”

He circles in front of you with his hands up indicating your safety and crouches down so he is eye level with you. Your favorite eyes, the prettiest pools of amber and fresh autumn now plagued by uneasiness. You immediately dive your beaten face into your hands not wanting to be held by those tormented brown eyes.

“You’re alright, you’re safe,” he passifies.

Jake places his hands to cup yours and slowly peels away the mask they were providing. You fling his hands away with your own and find you gain some unexpected relief from the slight blow.

Instinctually, you start to throw your hands towards him to achieve whatever contact you can, shoving at his shoulders and beating your fists against his soft chest. Jake doesn’t fight back or stop you or even protest. He only scrunches his eyes shut and lets out a shaky exhale; as if you are some toddler and he is simply tolerating your tantrum. He cups your jaw, freezing your thrashing movements.

He searches your eyes through his glassy ones and begins to fuss, “I know, babygirl, I’m so sorry.”

His sentiment does little to console you though. You shove him from your vicinity harsher this time, releasing you of his touch and knocking off his balance. He gently lands back against the nearby bathtub wall but he is still in reach. He frowns as you gain momentum again, thirsty for a mere drop of the initial remedy your first feeble impact released. Anything to rid you of this eroding ache in your chest.

His eyebrows turn upwards in clemency, which only makes you drive through your swings harder. However, it doesn’t seem to make any difference as he catches one of your wrists in his stark hands mid-swing, and then the other.

In one skillful motion, he jerks you forward into an upward kneeling position by both arms. Jake slings your limbs around his shoulders, causing you to lurch into him. Before you have any chance to protest, he nimbly takes hold of your hips and delivers the rest of your body into his lap.

Every nerve under your skin is on fire with the impulse to retreat, “No, Jake! I’m not worth it!”

Your own words draw light to why you are so hellbent on repelling from Jake’s touch. It hadn’t been that he said you are no good for each other but that some part of you had always felt he is too good for you. That's why when things got tough you would argue and run to someone else. You were constantly trying to flag his attention that never veered from you. He had fooled you with his placid exterior but little did you know you only had to ask and he would grant you the world.

You are not good enough for him, yet he still spoils you and when it came down to it he was your salvation; harbored you away from the monster that had its claws around you.

But you’re more trouble than you are worth. You are tainted now, only baggage he would grow to resent. Jake did not deserve to be dragged down by you. You won’t allow it. You certainly wouldn’t survive it.

You try to evacuate his embrace but he only squeezes you tighter, “I’m sorry, I never should have left you!”

You squirm further, lifting yourself to your knees in preparation to somehow walk away. But Jake is not having it. He clings to your waist and stabilizes you by placing his knees to the back of your thighs.

You frantically beseech him, “Jake, please, there’s no room for junk in your world, trust me.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face between your jaw and collarbone, sighing against your neck to speak a muffled decree against your skin, “Don’t speak about yourself that way. You’re more than worth it.”

Your need for space is overwhelming, but your urgency to be held together overpowers anything else in existence. Exhausted from fighting, you let your weary body go limp and melt back into his gravity.

He loosens his arms a bit that are sealed around you, no longer afraid you’re going to make a run for it. Your head heavy, you rest your forehead against his clavicle and your hands center against his supple chest, trapping your arms between bodies as you bend your legs to the side and lean into him.

Your grief returns to you as soon as you stop moving and you concede to its demands. You find that these clamors, though, are different. They’re muffled as they’re collected by someone else. Not echoing void into space, an expression lost and forgotten with no purpose once they’ve passed from you. Now there is someone to record your sorrow, you are no longer just an inconsolable calamitous clutter on the bathroom floor. You let yourself fall apart in the arms of someone you trust can put you back together again.

“Jake, he almost- I-,” you struggle through your hiccuping breaths.

“I know,” he doesn’t pressure you to finish your thought.

Your voice becomes concerningly soft, “You saw?”

“I did,” he gulps.

“I wish you hadn’t,” your shame doesn’t let you speak above a whisper.

“Don’t say that- what if," you can hear his voice begin to crack and splinter, rendering him unable to finish the unbearable horror, "what if I hadn't been there in time? What if I hadn’t- you could have-”

For the first time it occurs to you that you are not the only victim. You imagine Jake must have lost his mind at the sight of you. You most definitely would have been petrified if the roles were reversed. And though he doesn’t owe you a thing he took you upon himself as his own responsibility. He acted while his mind must have been racing up and down, pondering the right thing to do. Whether you would wake up okay or not. Whether you’d wake up and blame him. Would you forgive him for leaving?

But you would never blame Jake for this. Even if you had, you’d never been capable of sentencing Jake to your storm for long. You’d forgiven him so many times before for a hundred things and you would continue to do so for the next ten-thousand offenses. And you prayed he’d never wake one day with enough sense to forget about you because you know now that you need him in this new season.

“Jake, hold me tighter,” you heedlessly pule, acutely aware of how needy and demented you sound, consumed by the exigency to be closer to him than ever, “tighter, please?”

“I want to, baby, more than you know, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he fretts.

You could hear the compulsion to accommodate you in his trembling tone and the sudden tense of his arms that carefully circled around you.

“How could I be so invisible? I feel like some foul disposable thing,” your own words ambush you.

A blubbering tumble into the air on their own perturbing accord; subconscious thoughts you had not dared let slither into the forefront of your reality. Mere shadows come from the corners of your mind that have expedited any real contemplation.

“And I know I'm not supposed to but I feel like this is all my fault,” you sob out the confession.

Your sadistic ears register the fractious cries inhabiting the small room now as the same ones that haunted you in the alley. Sounds you hadn’t known you were capable of prior to your casualty. You have no idea whether the grotesque marks along your body would stay with you in a scar but you know that this despairing tune was one of an everlasting requiem and these tears would never dry.

Jake pulls away from you to tug his sleeves over his fists. He examines your face and shakes his head before swiping his cuffs to carefully towel the tears away from your afflicted skin. He kisses both of your eyelids shut and draws back into you, cradling the nape of your neck to bury you further into his shelter.

“Nothing you did, my love,” he begins to vow, “was even remotely deserving of what happened. Don’t you ever let anyone ever make you feel less than beautiful, not even me. You are perfect, I swear it.”

Your consoler rakes his fingertips along your backside, between your shoulder blades, down to your tailbone and back again. However the migration of his hand doesn’t follow your spine. The irregular pattern of his touch graces around your wounds without him having his eyes navigate. How long he must have studied your comatose skin to plot a mental map and detour your injuries. The cozy concept grounds you, enabling you to finally catch your breath.

The air eventually stills. The only stirring sounds of your sniffles and shared quaking breaths.

You hoarsely whisper, “Jake, where am I?”

“My hotel room, babygirl,” fragments of his side of the nightmare begin to spill out, “and I know I should’ve taken you to a hospital or something but- I’m sorry- I didn’t- I was terrified they might make me leave or not let me see you or something and I couldn't- I just- no- and we had to move on to the next city- I was not leaving you again- or ever.”

Now he holds you tighter as if he can no longer deny the urge; afraid you could still be confiscated from him, a kid clinging to his favorite blanket.

“I had one of the medics I trust come check you out,” he rambles on.

You choked a bit at the thought of another man having access to your unconscious body, “He-”

“No, no. She said you were going to be fine and your body was working through whatever it was you ingested. She only handed me pain meds and some heavy duty first aid for liability. I tried to dress your wounds as best I know how. I’m sorry if i-”

You slip your arms around his neck, cradling his nape to bring him closer into your orbit, “Stop apologizing. Thank you, Jake.”

“Don’t thank me, you could have told me you hated me a million different ways in that bathroom and I still would have done the same thing,” he precisely threads his words, conviction weighing down every syllable, “I take care of what's mine.”

The room grows quiet once more as you bask in contemplation of his last words. Jake starts to rub your back again and you find yourself tempted by a drowsy spell once more.

“Jake?”

His hand springs from your back, “God- Am I hurting you? I’m sor-,”

“No, just thank you for taking care of me,” you drowsily sigh against his skin as slumber cocoons you in its grasp.

You flicker in and out of consciousness until you wake to Jake carrying you back to bed. He sits you down on the edge and pulls a bottle of pills from his pocket.

“For the pain,” he gives the bottle a good shake and pulls a water canister from the amenities on the dresser, handing it to you.

After you’ve taken the medication he encourages you to drink the rest of the water. Once you appease him, Jake helps you recline, careful not to lay you on your back. In his assistance, you grab his hands, the bruised and split sight commandeering your regard.

“Your hand- It's bruised,” you gasp.

He lets out the smallest chuckle, “Yea, I broke his nose.”

“Jake, that's not funny,” you lethargically scold.

“I know-”

“But thank you,” you make sure he understands your gratitude before he can beat himself up.

Still holding onto his hand, you pull Jake to lay down next to you and curl around him. He reciprocates by tucking your head under his chin. The grounding warmth of him travels across your skin and brings you to safety.

He tilts his head towards your ear and bashfully asks, “No more games?”

“No more games,” you concur.

He draws in a breath deep of solemnity and panic as he runs a finger down your temple and tucks your hair behind your ear. You prepare yourself for his bad news before he can even speak the opposite.

“I think I love you but I can't keep chasing you from halfway around the world,” his confession so subtle you almost miss his first five words.

“Well, lucky for you I don’t think I can go back to London and I have nowhere else to go,” your antic tone does less than mesh with your words.

Jake mimics your earlier sentiment back to you, “That’s not funny, baby.”

“I know- I just- I don’t want to go to London,” you drop your facade.

“You know I have a few guest rooms at my house,” he begins fidgeting, twirling your hair around his fingers, “but they never see any guests. And I know my house gets so lonely when I’m gone.”

“You mean- your house-,” you gulp, “in Nashville?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice now, “Yes, gorgeous scenery and a lovely people. It also happens to be very far from London. You’d be doing me a real favor if you came and looked after it.”

You ponder his proposal as if you have a choice. As if you hadn’t slowly been moving towards this leap since the dawn of Jake and you. As if you could ever grant your caretaker any answer that isn’t yes.

And of course any life with Jake would be better than a life without but still you never thought the question would come, certainly not before others. You are clueless as to what role you are to play and what life is supposed to look like after this, outside of London. How would you even fit into his tumultuous musician’s life?

He breaks your thought flow. You can tell Jake is trying not to pressure you but your silence terrifies him, “What’s swirling around in that pretty head of yours?”

You tilt your face up towards his and speak against the corner of his mouth right where his lips begin to curl when he gets giggly.

The course hair there prickly against your whispered affirmation, “I love you too, Jacob.”

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