#I’m trying not to be specific! I don’t want to be mean! nobody is being mean to me! it’s okay!

[floral-hex]

hi it’s my birthday tomorrow

[kavehater]

Do I have to start saying not that anyone would care in that super duper passive aggressive way to guilt people into caring or what

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

A very self indulgent Billford playlist!

Self indulgent, because this music does not appeal to the masses at all; these songs are limited to the stuff I listen to. So I’m being VERY transparent about my embarrassing taste in music right now! Plus, NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS!!! But I hope some of these resonate with you. This is a little collection I’ve formed in my phone notes since I got into this ship a couple weeks ago.

Not a fancy spotify playlist, it’s just links to the music on youtube. 

I’ve got this divided into parts:

-The Billford Songs

-The In This Moment Billford Songs

SO MUCH of their music is enemies/lovers perfection. I’ve thought about so many *killing you but also making out with you* pairings to this shit, because these songs were like, DESIGNED to be recycled for any and all love hate relationships, and still hit insanely hard EVERY TIME. So now that you have these songs under your belt, you have them FOREVER. You’re welcome. I haven’t even listened to all their music, I’m sure there’s more songs for this category that I simply haven’t discovered.

-The…Maybe…Billford Songs

My standards were kinda high for making this list. But every song is about your ship when you’re insane, right??? So these are the maybe’s. One’s I’ve thought about billford to, but maybe the lyrics don’t totally align.

Playlist under the cut! I wasn’t gonna ramble about each song but WHOOPS I DID 🤷‍♀️

The Billford songs:

Monophobia - Deadmau5 (Extended version, cuz it’s the best.)

THE LYRICS… THE LYRICS!!!! Definitely bill pining in theraprism. 

Propane Nightmares - Pendulum

This one WAS gonna go in the maybe’s, but I convinced myself otherwise after listening to it eighty more times, and now it’s up here on top. And fuck it, this is the *self indulgent* billford playlist, so I do what I want. I go into a fucking trance when I listen to this song, so I can’t really explain 110% why this is a billford song to me, but I’ll try.  Apparently, this song is about the heavens gate cult. So not enemies/lovers angst. But looking at the lyrics, you could interpret it as giving yourself to something greater, and coming to the realization that what you pledged yourself to is actually a very bad thing which will ultimately destroy you. (also, you can’t deny that there was some cult like manipulation happening with Bill and Ford. Sense of purpose and friendship.) Definitely billford-y when you consider Fords commitment to bill. And I’ll admit, when I listen to it, there is some pov switching. Because the “trail of fire”,  “we will be as one”, and “bring it on home” is VERY reminiscent of bill executing weirdmageddon. So overall, my interpretation of this song is Ford feeling torn about bill, feeling regret, feeling scared, and Bill of course, just wanting to bring the dimensions together. “BRING IT ON HOME!!!!”  Or I just like the song. 

Rule 34 - Fish in a Birdcage

Bestie recommended this song to me. It needs no explanation.

Painkiller - The Queenstons

…NEEDS NO EXPLANATION DSKFDSKJHF It’s similar to the above, just more… scary imo. Violent. Definitely bill being a little psycho. I really love this song. It’s very recyclable too. You have it for any toxic ship now. 

9V - The Queenstons

One of my favorite Lapfox/Halley Labs songs… I’m gonna give you the lyrics, it’s a bit hard to understand without them. In my eyes, it’s about betraying Ford. Also these vocals (and other music by this artist) works so well for bill because of the synthesized voice. 

LoveBOMB - S3RL

This is a new S3RL song. This song sounds like a tantrum, and I really liked it when I first heard it, but it didn't fit anything I was into at the time. Luckily, bill suffered a horrible breakup, and now this song has it’s meaning. 

When I'm There - S3RL

Bill thinking about joining the third dimension with Ford. 

Click Bait - S3RL

I’ve listened to this one a LOT before this, and I surprised myself with how much it aligns with bill, specifically, him tricking Ford.

Space-Time - S3RL

Speaks for itself.

Sodom & Gomorrah - Dorian Electra

This one’s just funny :)

The In This Moment Billford Songs

Sick Like Me

Sexual Hallucination

This is one of those recyclable songs, but I was damn surprised at how well the lyrics suited them, because it alludes to being out of body, possession, etc.

Blood

Half God half devil

Roots

Whore

Damn it, I cant deny this one suits them.

Big Bad Wolf

DAMN IT I wasn’t gonna include this one, but I just checked the lyrics and fuck, it works. In this moment, how are you so wonderful

The…Maybe…Billford Songs

Illuminaughty - Infected Mushroom

I'm kind of grasping at straws with these lyrics, but with a title like that? Come on

The Pretender - Foo Fighters, Infected Mushroom, Turbo Remix

Three versions, for whichever suits your fancy.

Leopold - Infected Mushroom

This one has NO LYRICS, but it has this buildup that sounds really cool, and it has an abrupt decrescendo. Reminds me of their "friendship" and how it all came crashing down.

Idolize - Dorian Electra

Hmmmmm, I just like Dorian. But the idolization thing works for obvious reasons.

That’s it! Hope you enjoy. Maybe I'll do an expansion pack of sorts if I find enough songs for a part 2.

[grandline-fics]

If you’re down for it, could you do Ace and the prompt for “taking a hit for them”? Idk if you need other specifics but preferably with a afab!reader 👀

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Taking the hit for them

WARNINGS: angst, description of injury, comfort

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,303

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wasn't expecting for this to be as long as it was but I hope you're happy with the result for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

“You need to stop being so overconfident you know that?” You lectured, frowning heavily down at Ace as he lay on the railing of the Moby Dick for his afternoon nap. At the sound of your voice he tilted the rim of his hat up to blink at you sleepily and confusion. Already he’d forgotten and you rolled your eyes, staring down at him with arms folded tightly and and scowl deepening. If there was a competition for the most laid back person, you would have no doubt Ace would have a gold medal. You were almost jealous. Strictly speaking you admired his personality a majority of the time, but then moments like this came up and that admiration swiftly turned into worry and a lecture. You just needed him to think a little before charging headfirst into things. “That fight back there? They had you surrounded when I arrived. You could have been hurt!”

Ace lolled his head to the side, lazily looking in the direction of the town you’d both just returned from. It took a moment for his mind to drift back to the ‘incident’ that you were getting so stressed over. A long yawn rose through his chest and idly he scratched his chest. Vaguely he recalled a few nobodies trying to start something with him in the hopes of getting their own bounties increased. Honestly that was the only thing that slightly resembled a fight that he could remember being apart of. But still it was hardly anything and he threw you a grin, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Hurt by them? If I did, I’d happily give them my bounty myself. I’m fine, you’re fine. What’s got you so tight?”

“You, Ace!” You shouted firmly, your frustration drawing the attention of others on board, their own relaxation being disturbed by the beginning of the lover’s tiff. “Is it really so hard to just take a couple seconds and assess the situation for once? Just because someone looks weak doesn’t mean that’s the case. I mean look at your brother!” At that remark Ace’s need for a nap dissipated and he sat up to glower at you. Just because you were annoyed at him for some needless reason didn't mean you had to drag Luffy into it.

“What about him?” Ace asked evenly, his voice colder than normal. “He’s proved his strength time and time again on these seas.”

“Exactly! He’s taken down big names and part of that is because his appearance makes those he fights underestimate him.” You let out a sigh and rubbed your neck, feeling a headache coming on. “I just don’t want to see you hurt over something that could have been avoided.”

“Sweetheart I’m literally made of fire. No one can hurt me even if they tried.” Ace smirked at you, now that he knew you weren’t insulting his little brother his demeanour had returned and he flopped back down onto the deck. “I love that you worry but please don’t.” Seeing the discussion was hopeless you shook your head and left muttering under your breath. 

It was a week later before it all came to a head. Word came that Whitebeard’s territory was under threat from attack by pirates on the island. Obviously Ace insisted he could handle the threat on his own and you lightly smacked the back of his head. You rolled your eyes and remained quiet, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Pops insisted that a small group go to handle it instead of just allowing Ace to go. Ace accepted the order without hesitation. While you were glad Ace saw sense in that respect you just wished he would listen to you as readily. It was an even greater relief that Marco was also joining the group, at least he would be level-headed.

Your group landed on the island and almost immediately were drawn into a fight. For the most part it was barely worth a warmup, the pirates were in over their heads against you and the other Whitebeards, a clear show in difference in your power against theirs. However in the middle of the fight you noticed two of your enemies disappear from the thick of the fight. If they were drawing back they had a reason for it. Something didn’t feel right, and the fact that the others you were fighting didn’t seem bothered by their allies disappearance only reenforced your suspicions. Then you heard the sound of their fast approach and saw them draw their guns, aiming them at Ace. 

They were already aware that he was a Devil Fruit user from reputation and the beginning of the fight but they stared at your boyfriend with glee and sickening satisfaction. You felt your blood run cold at the realisation that they were fully confident their weapon would harm him so you ran. Quickly you made it to Ace in time just as the sound of the trigger being pulled rang out. Ace turned sharply as you hit the ground, watching as blood slowly darkened and spread against the fabric of your shirt. Immediately the group launched into a vicious assault, no longer going easy on their attackers while Ace gathered you into his arms and yelled for Marco. When Ace tried to reach for your stomach to put pressure on your wound at the same time your blearily made out the soft blue glow of Marco’s flame approaching you found the strength to grab Ace’s hand to stop him from coming into contact with your injury. “N-n-no….sea…seastone!” 

You slipped in and out of consciousness, blurred shapes and muffled voices that you could partially make out as Ace and the others working together to get you stabilised enough to get you back to the ship. You finally tumbled into darkness when you were set on the operating bed. Ace paced outside the infirmary with anxious fury. He wanted to burn the bastards that hurt you but they were already dealt with, he wanted someone to hurt him since this was his fault. Not only had he let the one responsible flee but he’d also heard them pull a gun on their return and made no move to avoid them. You, however had known, you’d considered the possibility that their actions weren’t just bravado or a bluff. Now you were hurt and it could have been avoided had he just done what you’d always asked him to do; consider everything, stop underestimating the enemy.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ everyday.” Ace whispered from your bedside when you were out of surgery, his hand holding yours tightly. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting with you, but through it all he kept talking. “I swear it anything you want, you got it. Hell, I’ll even give you my hat. You just need to get better.”

“Ace?” Your groggy voice broke him from his constant rambling and looked to you with relief and adoration. You smiled tiredly when his free hand stroked your face, always finding comfort in his touch. You could see the guilt in his eyes and tension in his shoulders. You didn’t need to tell him you told him so, he’d be remembering this day for the rest of his life. “I don’t want your hat. I want my own and a kiss. I want a kiss.” 

Ace couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter and lightly pepper your face with gentle, loving kisses until he found your lips and kissed you properly, deeply. What had happened had shaken him completely but for you he’d be strong, he’d be better than he had been and more certainly of all, he’d take things more seriously. For you. Always for you. 

-----------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

[themeraldee]

Hii can you do one where the reader rejects homelander because she’s married? He gets mad and obsessive??

Thank you for the ask! So originally I wasn't gonna do requests because I'm very particular about what strikes my fancy. But I'm nothing if not a people pleaser so your request got my head popping up with ideas as I've not really explored the 'loving someone to a fault' part of Homelander where things take a wild turn. So this is my humble attempt - hope you enjoy!

(Also I spat this out fairly quickly so it's not very well reviewed)

The Price of Love

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 2. Voyeurism. Dark themes but nothing very specific. Homelander being his own warning. Mention of canon-level violence.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married?!” Homelander sputters, caught totally off guard by your admission. His body language frazzled, his arms expressing confusion just as much as his words as his presence towers over you. 

You’ve been Ashley’s secretary for a few months now. At first he took no interest in the presence of yet another busybody without a name that was surely going to crack under the pressure and either leave or fuck up beyond repair resulting in your resignation. But no, you’ve proven yourself to be reliable, responsible and most importantly you’ve got a fucking spine in you. You don’t cower in fear, shake when you talk to him or let yourself get talked into a corner. He likes that. He really likes that. 

His preference for you has become so obvious that Ashley made you his go-to. Any news, good or bad, just went straight through you. And somehow, Homelander didn’t mind hearing that he dropped a point or two when it came from your lips.

That’s why he felt so blindsided by your outright rejection when he asked you out. What the fuck do you mean married?! 

“I mean I’m unavailable.” Homelander tightens his hand into a fist now that his arms fell back to rest next to his thighs. He hides the lapse of control behind his cape as he clasps both hands behind his back. At this point the pose has become a bit of a defense mechanism, nobody can touch or hurt him when he’s playing a hero. It’s a whole lot different when he pours his heart out to some fucking assistant just to get it stomped into the ground. 

“You’re not wearing a ring.” His tone is quiet, sharp. He nods his head towards the hand that’s currently clutching a stack of papers, the last thing you were meant to bring over before you clocked out. In Homelander’s eyes, it was the perfect time to ask you out. He’d take you out the same night. Michelin star restaurant, booked out just for the two of you. But no, you had to ruin his whole plan.

“I know, I’m sorry. I oftentimes leave it at home. I worry about it getting damaged or lost.” You clutch your papers closer to you, Homelander’s eyes lock onto your empty ring finger. It’s like you’re trying to hide it from him. The skin where your ring would be sat isn’t even smoothed out or marked in any way. So either it’s a recent marriage or you barely wear your ring as is. Homelander scoffs to himself, what kind of marriage is it if you’re not willing to shout about it from the rooftops. 

“I just—what? You’ve been fucking coming onto me for ages!” He wheezes out in part anger, part embarrassment. His eyes widen at first before squinting, his eyebrows furrowing with the action. In his head he replays all your interactions and he’s not fucking stupid. He’s the Homelander. There’s no one who can read people better than him.

“Sorry? I haven’t, or I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to lead you on.” You take a step back. As much as this whole time Homelander’s been more than tolerating your presence, enjoying and looking forward to it even, now he’s acting like a whole kind of different animal. He takes one step in. Part of him relishes in the way your heart speeds up at the loud thud of his boot taking the one step closer to you. The other part of him doesn’t want you to be scared of him, just like you haven’t been this whole time, you’re meant to be his! 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Lead me on?” 

“You know, make you think I’m interested when I’m not.” He nearly laughs. Not interested? Not fucking interested?! Give him a break. He might not have many experiences with the most genuine of relationships but he knows attraction when he sees one. He’s not stupid enough to mistake your professional kindness for attraction, it’s more than that. He’s sure of it. Your pulse still races anytime you’re in his vicinity, your pupils dilate, you smile all flustered and sweet when he pays you a compliment and there’s definitely times he’s managed to make you wet just by saying or doing the right thing. Someone who’s not interested wouldn’t be reacting like that. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose shaking his head. “Get out.” His voice rings loud and clear in the empty room. 

“Yes, sir. I’m really so sorry.” His teeth grind at the way you call him ‘sir’. A habit he’s weaned you off a long time ago. Yet there you go again, reverting back to factory settings as if you two didn’t have a whole load of history behind you. He watches you scamper off, the intrusive, violent part of him has an intense urge to laser you in half for making him feel this way.

But no, he knows there’s another way. First, he needs to get this energy out one way or another. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

Homelander waits till nightfall before flying around just to get his frustration out. First Madelyn, now you. What is it with women being dishonest with him! But no no no, you’re nothing like her. You do love him. You have to. He knows it. He can feel it. He just needs to nudge you in the right direction.

His thoughts get disrupted by a shrill scream coming from the alleyway below him. He pauses in the air, watching the situation with little initial interest. He lands on the building ledge where a man has a screaming woman pinned against the wall. He notices the light reflecting against the switchblade the criminal presses to her neck.

Well look at that, he can get his frustrations out and he’s gonna look like a hero. This night might just be turning around for him.

He leaves the bloody carnage behind, shaking some of the blood and viscera off his suit, bloody droplets hitting his boots instead. He’s so used to the copper tang of blood, at this point breathing it in is as natural to him as air. He’s just not particularly fond of the mess it creates.

But finally, after some physical relief, he grins to himself and with a clear head he can devise a plan on how to win you over. He’s the Homelander, who the fuck else could be more worthy of your love? 

Well… He’s about to find out.

Homelander takes off into the air, shooting up up up, until he finds a happy altitude where the air is just about getting thin, but more importantly where he’s unlikely to be recorded or photographed at this time of night.

He lands on the rooftop of the building opposite where you and your spouse reside. Bleugh. Your fucking spouse. Just the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He was being patient with you. Wanted to take it the traditional way. Just like normal humans you’d meet at work, get chatting, get comfortable and start dating. So he gave you the benefit of your privacy. Wanted to see you naked for the first time when you’d undress for him. All pretty and sensual, giving him a good show. Now it’s biting him in the ass. If he wasn’t so chivalrous with you he would have long known that he’d need to get rid of the obstacle before he’d even ask you out. 

He watches through the building walls. He needs to see who, or what, has you so whipped that you wouldn’t immediately offer to get divorced just to go on a date with him. At the very least it better be some good sex.

He scans your meager one bedroom apartment. Your spouse is sound asleep in your shared bed but you’re nowhere to be seen. It’s not even that late in the night. Wouldn’t happily married couples be fucking through the night like rabbits at this hour? 

He lights up when he lands on the sight of you in your bathroom. Finally, some fucking reward. It’s the least he deserves after all that he’s been through. You’re submerged in your bathtub, the water level hitting halfway up your chest. You have the most pleased expression on your face, pure delight as you rest your head against the rim of the tub, eyes closed all dreamy. 

Homelander palms the front of his pants, feeling his cock immediately fill out at finally getting glimpses of your naked self. It’s only then he notices that you’re not just relaxing. No. Your hand is holding the shower head right in between your legs, letting the water pressure light up all your sensitive nerves. 

Then it clicks. He grins like he hasn’t in a long while. The pure satisfaction of being right. You’re not satisfied. You can’t be. It’s obvious you desperately need to escape this situation. You need him. 

He carelessly unfastens his pants, surprising even himself that he doesn’t manage to rip them in half as he eagerly grips his hard cock. He strokes it harder than he ever has before, the blood on his glove just easing the glide of the harsh pace he sets himself. Homelander almost chokes on air as he watches you arch your back and whimper quietly, clearly hiding your little indulgent fantasy from your spouse. 

He wishes he could tell you it’s alright, your spouse is dead asleep. They won’t notice. They clearly don’t care. He does. And that’s all that matters, you have his attention. You have an audience of one. 

He doesn’t care what the reason is. There’s no reason in his book that would justify your spouse leaving you this dissatisfied that you have to get yourself off behind closed doors and not with their help. 

He’s so worked up, riding the roller coaster of wildly contrasting emotions, from heart-break to euphoria, that it doesn’t take long for him to feel breathless, panting as he strokes himself to the image of you all wet, pleasured and relaxed. What really does him in, unexpectedly is the whispering plea leaving your lips. ‘Homelander.’

And just like that he cums hard, not caring where his load ends up, his grin never leaving his face as he watches you reach your sweet, sweet release.

He has to have you.

[Part 2]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

[seraphhskies]

angry love confessions

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

wolverine (logan howlett) x gn! xmen! reader

word count: 807 type: fluff! cw: 18+ language, anger & cursing but it's wholesome, slightly suggestive ending

summary: reader (you) come back after a solo mission, one that Logan specifically didn't want you going on. a/n: AHH ok i wrote my first requested one, n my first logan fic! please leave any feedback you have, and feel free to leave requests :) i like to write fluff and smut mostly, so leave whatever you'd like! this is short for one of my works, but we'll get there dw (i'm absolutely dying to write a wade fic, so pleaseplease send those i'm begging)

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Logan exploded, yelling at you from across the counter. You scowled right back at him, standing up from where you had previously been trying to eat. It had been awkwardly silent, until he finally just snapped.

“I was thinking that I could be helpful for once!” You returned, matching his tone with a much calmer energy. Your brow was furrowed as you placed your hands on the counter. Logan paced, angry eyes studying your face before he looked away, taking a few steps in your direction.

“You could have been killed,” He hissed, pointing at you as if to prove a point. You scoffed. “I’m fine! We needed to get them out and you wanted to wait too long!” Your tone was pointed, briefly registering the sound of footsteps before they turned back the way they came. 

“Yeah, it’s safer to have people with you.” Logan growled, eyes darting towards your bandaged shoulder. You rolled your eyes. Logan’s protective nature was really showing, but it wasn’t making sense.

“It’s not a big deal,” You insisted. “Nobody had to get hurt, and I handled it just fine.” You were defensive, a bit irritated that the man was babying you. Logan, without a doubt, was who you were closest to- and sure, he was as protective of you as everyone else. But this? This was new. 

“You got hurt,” He huffed, almost in disbelief. “I’m. Fine.” You repeated, in the most defiant, sure tone you could manage. 

“Yeah, and what if you weren’t?” Logan asked rhetorically. “Who woulda saved you then, bub?” He growled, crossing the room towards you. You could practically feel his breath on your face. You looked up at him, the man quite a few inches taller than you- but you stood defiantly. 

“It didn’t come to that.” You argued. 

He groaned in irritation, turning away from you and running a hand through his hair. Hurt coursed through you, but mostly confusion.

“Why the fuck do you care so much, Logan?” You finally voiced, still argumentative as you stood up for yourself. “I mean, you’re acting like me saving people- doing my job, is a big fucking problem!” 

You could see his shoulders tense, but you kept going- anger pooling in your stomach as you vented. 

“I am here, I’m safe, and I’m fine. What’s the big fucking deal?” At your accusing tone, he finally turned around- his scowl practically forming a snarl. 

“You could have died.” Logan ground out. 

“Yeah, and?” You scoffed, waving off your possible death as though it were nothing. “We’re X-Men,” A mirthless laugh left you. “Don’t see why you ca-”

“Because I love you,” He yelled, chest heaving with his confession. Your eyes went wide, processing what he said. 

Oh.

“What?” You breathed, just standing there in shock. 

“I-” Logan hesitated, anger finally starting to dim. “I fuckin’ love you,” He confessed. Emotions flickered through you. Was he being serious?

“Always have.” He said gruffly, crossing his arms in a defensive manner. “And you just go off and nearly get yourself killed- but the worst part is you don’t care.” The last part was a hiss, but you were already starting to grin. Your anger was practically forgotten.

“You love me?” You asked, just double checking. Logan glared at you, but nodded silently. You felt like a schoolgirl who’s crush was returned, as you had been pining for Logan since as long as you had been friends. 

God, was this real? 

You took two steps, crossing the distance between you easily, and clutched his shirt. You drew him to you as roughly as you could manage and pressed your lips to his. He groaned in surprise, quickly returning the kiss. 

You sighed against his mouth, feeling his stubble prickling you as you cupped his cheek. Your mouths moved together in perfect sync, before the kiss turned rough- quickly becoming all tongue and teeth. His hands were warm on your waist, drawing you impossibly close as your bodies molded perfectly together. 

By the time you separated, a string of saliva connected the two of you. 

“For the record,” You said with a grin, making no move to escape the man's hold. “I love you too.” 

His lips captured yours once more in a searing kiss, one that sent burning need coursing through your body. He felt so right against you, and you felt yourself melting against him once more. 

“Argument’s not over.” Logan grunted once you pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. You hummed. 

“Argue in the bedroom.” You cracked a smile, opening your eyes before a yelp left you. Logan hoisted you up- practically tossing you over his shoulder. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held firm, hiding the smug look on his face. 

And argue he did. 

[xanderisbraindead]

How to get the confidence to dress alternative in public: LONG POST {from a scene king!!}

I hear a lot of young teens online saying things along the lines of, “I would love to dress like that but I’m scared”. We’ve all been there, it takes bravery to step outside the box. Since 2020, there has been an uptick in alternative fashion, which makes things a little better, but it doesn’t mitigate the fear some people feel.

As someone who has been dressing alternative all throughout highschool and who I’d like to think has some 17 year old wisdom, this is how you can get the confidence to dress how you want. This can apply to other alternative fashion types like decora, punk, goth ect ect.

This post goes with a youtube video!! You can just watch it if you dont wanna read

Realize why you’re scared: Is it because you’re afraid of being different or picked on? Are you afraid of change? Do you think your friends/peers won’t care about you anymore? These are all valid reasons, and once you know why, you can start to tackle it. Change isn’t bad, everyone changes, change is natural. Look around at nature, seasons change, we grow and age, animals migrate and go through metamorphosis. You don’t have to be confined to one thing forever just because you weren’t born that way. As for the fear of being picked on, fuck those people. Do you know why people tease others? It’s because they’re insecure. Hurt people hurt people. When people see you being yourself and they wish they could do that, they take it out on you because in their heart, they’re jealous. You’re not the problem, they are. (If you’re afraid of being physically hurt, that is completely different and I would not advise putting your safety in jeopardy)

Start slow. While you’re still building your wardrobe, you can start slowly stepping out with small accessories and such. Add some kandi to your outfit or a tattoo choker. This is mainly to ease yourself into it. Big changes can be pretty scary and jarring, so easing into it can help you.

Have some role models. By this I mean, have people you look up to, people that are inspiration to you. Me? Some of mine here on tumblr are @xx-may4-malic3-xx , @xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx , @xxdespairfactionashtonxx , @cigsnvalentines to name a few. Theres also some old scene queens, musicians, ect. Find whoever you want. I’m reccomending this, because when you see other people doing the same as you, it makes you go “if they can do it, so can I”. Most people probably wont even mind if you send them an ask about specific things (ik i dont, i love them).

Kinda the same point, but build a community. We have a pretty good community here on tumblr. Community is the backbone to everything. Ideally it would be someone irl, but not everyone is lucky enough to have cool irl friendz.

Fake it till you make it. Nobody has to know you’re scared but you. I’m not saying get super extroverted if you’re introverted and go around exuding confidence like a lazar beam. Dance in your mirror, hype yourself up. Take cool pictures and edit them, even if you don’t post them online. Learn to walk with your head up, again SLOWLY. As you start introducing more alternative elements into your wardrobe, wear them with pride.

Be the change you want to see. What I mean is if you want people to be kinder, you be kinder. Try to compliment someone every day. People actually aren’t as rude as you think, maybe I’m an optimist, but I think the average person isn’t terrible. Complimenting other people also makes you feel good, try it. Piggybacking off this point, don’t take things so personally. I know if can be easier to harp on the negative looks and comments you got versus the good ones, but you have to look past this. There are gonna be bad apples always, but their misdeeds can blind you from the people who think you’re pretty cool. Don’t let one bad apple ruin the bunch.

Lastly, realize being cringe is okay. Not just realize it, but internalize it. What even is cringe? Define cringe… Weird? Different? Everyone is different, everyone is weird about something. As I said earlier, some people are just too scared to be themselves. In 80 years when you’re old and looking back on your life, would you rather regret not being your authentic self, or think of all the fond memories of your life? Regret is one of the worse things in life, it’s terrible. There is nobody you can be but yourself. You’re you, so be you.

Remember that this is something that can take months or years. I feel like this past year and a half I have become fully confident in my fashion. I have been dressing alternative for 5 years for reference. I hope this could help someone.

If I wasnt clear on anything, feel free to send me an ask! Im more than happy to help!!

[vigilskeep]

now that you finished inquisition, what did you think of it? like favorite things, least favorite, etc?

oh man okay

things i love about dragon age inquisition:

capturing the specific feeling of bonding with a group of people you have absolutely nothing in common with because u all had to go through something long and specific together

the maps can be so pretty and in places really calming and lovely to spend time in. it does make me want to explore and i have no explorer’s instinct

i love the war table and judgements i think those are really fun features

i like that approval for many major decisions applies to everyone regardless of who you bring to specific events/quests. it feels a lot less like you have to manage that really hard, as you sometimes do in the other games and also really noticeably to me in something like baldur’s gate 3. it’s irritating when i have to plan ahead and can’t take who i want to hear from

i like how attached you can get to little npcs who wander around

i loveeeee fighting dragons and how beautiful they all are

little puzzles <3

the collectibles are also mostly fine by me i am a magpie by nature. as long as i can find them, obviously, bc if i can’t they suck and this whole game sucks

the templar specialisation is fun and i enjoyed that part of combat a lot. wrath of heaven/spell purge combo is a power trip

i thought my character was pretty :) i defeated u in the end dai character creator. may you be as merciful when we meet in battle once more

i’m not a huge crafter but being able to tint things is rlly nice

blackwall’s romance is good

vivienne is there

they let me briefly tame a dragon at the end there

things i don’t love about dragon age inquisition:

some genuine cruelty in writing the dalish in a way that feels shockingly callous to the real world cultures the writers took inspiration from

never giving the dalish or the rebel mages any kind of voice of their own and making the player do all that work if they care, which i also feel limits my roleplaying creativity

refusing to let you challenge any of the often overwhelmingly conservative views expressed by other characters without receiving only derision and disapproval. inquisition is a game that punishes you at every turn for having your own opinions, in a way that could be interesting if it was willing to truly let you develop complex or antagonistic relationships with those characters, but ends up mostly just feeling mocking when nobody ever even tries to see your side, while simply agreeing with these people always rewards you with content. origins was capable of letting you engage in discussion, and da2 let you form rivalries that mattered; inquisition, despite starring some of the most intentionally controversial characters, does neither

the game engineering conflicts against groups like the freemen of the dales or the avvar that mean nothing to the player and range from vaguely to seriously upsetting in their assumptions about who it’s normal to just start killing en masse. it’s both boring and distressing

odd, for lack of a better word “casting choices”, like having the fantasy impoverished racial minority all be white within the party while the wealthiest and most privileged are characters of colour, or for a more in-world example having the elves express the most distaste towards elves and the mages express the most caution about mages. i don’t know that i quite have the vocabulary to fully discuss why these weird me out, but it all feels... disingenuous? and chosen to forestall criticism based on real world comparisons in a game series that i wish had the nerve to openly confront what it’s talking about if it’s going to try to make any of its conflicts feel relevant

most of the companions, and indeed most of the quests and time spent playing the game, feel disconnected from the main plot. it’s hard to feel any pressure when the game tells you we need to deal with the main plot “right now!” and “get there before corypheus!” when the bulk of the game is doing other things while you’re supposed to be doing that. the majority of companions could be cut without changing anything. and when you finally want to deal with the main plot you just click to start it. it’s not engaging

the game fails to fully expand dialogue for the player character options it provided, particularly notable with its confusing chantry focus when you’ve said for the dozenth time you’re not andrastian

the 2-handed weapon whirlwind ability sound effect is an exercise in creating the worst and most grating sound effect for someone to constantly hear

they didn’t let me romance vivienne

they killed my dragon :(

[bellatrixscurls]

pairing : artrick x reader

warnings : mentions of sexual toys, patrick being mean (just for a sec), flirting.

hear me out,, sexshop workers art and patrick. except, they are together and pat convinced art to get a job there, so they can get each other off and fuck whenever the shop isn’t as busy.

so what happened when one time, you didn’t see the closed sign on the door during one of their “breaks”, and you walked in. the place was noisy, vibrators turned on, but it seemed to be more than that. you moved around and there was nobody there. you almost went to walk out BUT right before you were out of earshot, you heard what sounded like wood hitting a wall, repeatedly.

“hello?” you called out softly, and the sound immediately stopped. “fuck you, pat. i told you it was a bad idea!” you heard someone curse under their breath, before the door that said “staff only” opened and revealed two guys, their faces flushed and you could swear that you saw one of them tucking it in last minute.

they eyed you for a moment, and the blonde one went to speak, but was cut off before he could say anything. “didn’t you see the fucking sign that says closed?! you just walk in like it’s your damn house and-” “patrick, shut up!”

the aforementioned boy turned to you once again, eyes wide and a look of embarrassment on his face, because you just had to have heard them. “i’m so sorry about my colleague. what are you looking for today?” he smiled politely and you realise that you forgot what you were, in fact, looking for.

“my colleague” the other one, patrick, said under his breath, rolling his eyes as he followed you and art around the store.

“i’m just looking for an… egg, i think that is? it’s on my best friend’s birthday wishlist and i’m pretty sure it’s not about a normal egg” you rambled, fiddling with your fingers, because never have you ever thought that you’d actually go into a sexshop, and even worse, that two hot guys would have to check you out.

art gave you a tight-lipped smile and turned his back to you, seemingly looking for said egg. god, is it embarrassing. “excuse me for a minute, i have to look in the back room.”

and just like that, you were left with patrick for a good two minutes, and the smug smile he was giving you did nothing to soothe your nerves. you had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant to do anyway. “so, never been in a sexshop before?”

you sighed, there we go. “what gave it away?” you tried to smile at him, ignoring your nerves and the way your palms were sweating just from looking at him.

“eh, just figured” he responded nonchalantly, the smirk still present on his face. he made a quick turn, now fully facing you and your eyes widened slightly. “what do you think about my colleague?”

“s-sorry?” you responded, startled by his directness. but he didn’t say anything, just arched his brow at you. “he is pretty” you cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him.

patrick grinned widely, his blue eyes analysing every inch of you. “just pretty?” he pouted. that fucker. “i think he’d have many more things to say about you. i saw they way you looked at each other.”

“oh, it’s not that. i mean, i look at you just the same, so it’s not-” you sighed, now you really were fucked, “i heard you guys, back there. i don’t want you to think that i like your boyfriend or colleague or-”

“you talk so fuckin’ much.. it’s cute” he nodded to himself and your face instantly reddened. this guy was trying to fuck with your head. he leaned in when he heard the door open, art’s footsteps closer and closer. “you gotta know though, these things are magic” he pointed toward the vibrators, specifically at a large purple one. “me and my boyfriend can help you pick one out the next time you come.”

patrick quickly retreated and you turned, startled, to see art holding several of what seemed to be eggs in his hands, all different colours and shapes. “hey, you have any idea what size would your friend be fond of?”

he was so fucking cute.

[misssilversunny]

Incel shiggy kidnaps idol reader

Or rents lookalike idol reader (and he does what he wants with her bc this is the closest hell ever get) (then gives a fat check accompanying his fat load)

God, so many thoughts… head in hands rn/pos

Couldn’t decide on which one I like more, so here’s both kinda. Part two to this. Also, I’m assuming that by lookalike, you mean a sex worker who cosplays as the reader? I hope this is to your liking!

MDNI

CW/TW: Implied Kidnapping, Shigaraki is an incel so his opinions of sex workers are Not Great, I’m very new to writing smut

Shiggy tries hiring lookalikes but they never compare to you. You’re pure, a saint- no, goddess among men. These whores simply use your likeness to make a quick buck off of filthy nobodies like him. But sometimes a toy isn’t enough.

He hires one he finds on a porn site. They’re a convincing lookalike, even going so far as to mimic your voice. Even though you don’t talk like that. She laughs at a subpar joke he made, her laugh high and shrill, closer to a shriek than your angelic voice.

He brings her home while everyone else is out or in their rooms. He’s already been flamed by Dabi for spending so much on chicks that look like you, just thinking about it pisses him off.

He drags her into the room by her arm, ignoring her whining about his grip. When they get to his room, he tosses her on the bed, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock without looking at her.

She has on a pair of themed panties with little bows on them. She says her “best friend” got them for her. They’re themed after that damn boy idol group. Specifically, the boy who’s constantly touching you or making you laugh. That little shit has no fucking right being pressed up against your cunt, themed underwear or not.

Shigaraki turns her panties to dust, kneeling down until he’s face to face with her pussy. He shoves his face in, licking her slit and plunging his tongue into her hole. He wanted to practice before the real thing. He knew that one day you would be his, and he needed to be sure that he was your best. Plus, he found that he actually enjoyed eating pussy. He knew once you two were together, he’d be buried between your thighs 24/7.

He sped up his tongue as her moans got louder, circling her clit and tapping it before going back to her soaked hole. She sounded fake at first, but soon her voice became genuine as her orgasm approached.

Shigaraki flipped her onto her back before dropping back to his knees. He showed no mercy, sucking her clit into his mouth and licking it in tighter circles as his fingers plunged inside of her. With one final suck, her thighs clamped around his head as her orgasm crashed into her.

He forces her legs apart as he lines himself up and fully sheathes himself in one harsh thrust. Her legs clamp around him as he sets an unforgiving pace. His dick has an extreme upward curve, and his position keeps hitting her g-spot without even trying.

She’s teary eyed at this point, begging him for more. He grabs her thighs and pushes them until her knees are by her ears, leaning down until their breaths were mixing.

He leans further and licks a stripe up her throat, biting just below her jaw. "Gonna breed this nasty cunt. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he says, lips pulled into a sneer.

“Yes, Ohmyfuckinggod please cum in me. I need it please oh my god oh fuck." Just another way she wasn’t you. You’d beg him to pull out. But it didn’t matter. He was too close to complain.

With a final cry into the musky air, her cunt clamps down on his cock. He groans, his hips stuttering as he presses himself flush with her hips, spurting out rope after warm, thick rope of cum into her pussy.

He stays inside for a few seconds before he pulls out, watching the globs roll out of her abused cunt. He doesn’t snap a picture, instead leaving $1,500 on the nightstand next to her before leaving to clean himself up.

He’s scrolling on his phone a little while later when he sees you’ve posted to your Twitter again. Your group is going to be returning to the city in three weeks and holding a concert the day of their return. You’re posting about how you can’t wait to be reunited with your beloved pet cat and sleep in your bed again.

Shiggy gets tickets to the concert and decides to follow the car the group came in to your house. After everyone has gotten to their homes, you are dropped off last at a fancy looking apartment. Shiggy watches you enter the building and watches the windows to see which light turns on.

You’re high up, but that doesn’t deter him.

He walks into the building, trying his best to not draw attention to himself as he climbs the stairs. He reaches your floor with great effort. He really should exercise more. He leans on the wall next to the elevator to catch his breath.

While he’s standing there, a guy in a Pizza Hut uniform walks out of the elevator, looking around.

“Hey, do you live here?” He asks, tilting his head. Shigaraki stiffens, trying to not look guilty.

“I’m trying to find room 816. Someone ordered a pizza, garlic bread, and soda. Big soda too, they must have a pretty severe sweet tooth.” He continues, trying to make small talk. Shiggy pushes himself from the wall, motioning for the man to follow. He leads him to a supply closet on the floor, pushing him inside when he hesitates. He snatches the boxes in his hand, placing it on a shelf.

“Wait, what the fuck?” The delivery man turns to Shigaraki, “Nice prank, ha-ha. Now where is Room 81-“

Shigaraki grabs the man’s neck, careful to avoid his clothes. The man’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates before shooting to Shigaraki’ wrist, desperately trying to claw his hand off like a rat in a glue trap. With a pitiful gasp, he crumbled to dust, leaving just his clothes.

Shigaraki emerged from the closet a few minutes later and approached your door, knocking. You opened the door clad in only a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized top, flashing him a smile.

“Ah! My order! Thank you! Come in and place it on the table, I’ll get the money!”

[joelsgoldrush]

come back same time and place the next night

prologue / 3k words

pairing: dad's coworker!joel miller x f!reader

raiting: 18+ (minors dni)

series summary: your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

series warnings: no outbreak AU, dad's coworker!joel (idk if that's a thing but yeah), lots of feelings (angst/fluff), age gap (reader is 23, joel is 50), no use of y/n, i'm not good at choosing names for side characters sorry for that, some chapters will include smut 18+ and i'll let you know at the beggining of each part

warnings for this chapter: soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

A/N: HELLO AGAIN i'm back with a new series!!! first of all, i just wanted to say THANK YOU bc of all the love you gave my previous post. i'm so thankful for all the likes, reblogs and comments, you truly made me feel incredibly happy. tbh i used to have a hard time figuring out whether i should start posting my own creations or not, and the support you showed me made me realize that it was definitely the right call. so yeah tysm for that and i hope you also enjoy this new project of mine :) i juIt have one final left and then i'll have a couple of weeks to relax and work on this series! also english isn’t my first language so if you come across any mistake please tell me!

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

“Sneaking out of my house / I must be out of my mind / I’m running out of excuses / We’re running out of time / You say the love will come and go / We’ll learn how to ride the ebb and flow / You’ll always leave before the light / Come back same time and place the next night.”

You take another sip of your drink, alcohol making its way through your throat. It leaves a trail of burning kisses down the inside of your esophagus, and you make an effort not to swear as the sensation settles heavily on your chest.

Stacy looks around the bar for a while, her knee impacting rhythmically against yours ever so slightly. Next thing you know, she’s snorting, her blonde hair falling like cascades over her collarbones. “I'm afraid you, my dearest friend, have lost your good judgement. There isn’t a single hot guy in this bar.”

“That’s not true,” your fingers pinch the pink straw floating on your glass, a lipstick stain adorning it. You’re not exactly sure, though. The truth is you aren’t looking for somebody tonight, at least not right now. “Give me a second.”

Scanning your surroundings, you try to concentrate on your quest: finding a new hobby for Stacy. And by hobby, you mean a man she can simp over for the rest of the night. Once you’ve examined the room multiple times without success, you feel… slightly disappointed. 

Just when you’re about to agree with her, this pretty waiter comes on the scene, placing a martini under your friend’s nose. “Here it is. Hope you enjoy it.” 

Oh.

Stacy giggles at him. It’s that specific kind of giggle you know very well. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s on me,” the hot-waiter answers, giving her a smile that’s all white teeth before disappearing between the mess of sweaty bodies on the dancing floor. 

You look at her, because you already know what she will do next. She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction and takes hold of her purse, not without previously drinking almost half of the cocktail she got for free. 

Her forehead furrows in a funny way. “It’s not very good. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tell her, ignoring her words. “I’m being serious.”

She leaves and you’re left alone, though you don’t mind the lack of company. The beating of your heart seems to sync with the pounding music from the pub. There’s this one girl doing karaoke, but nobody seems to be actually listening to her. You wonder if she’s aware of it, although she appears not to, because her tone gets even more high-pitched every time she gets to the chorus of the song.

After some minutes, you decide to give Stacy’s drink a try. She wasn’t wrong: the taste of it is absolutely awful. Some muscle in your jaw twitches as you cough a little.

“Is it that bad?” 

You turn to your side, looking for the owner of that unknown voice that startled you. A man stands beside you, pointing out the martini. Leaning in closer to him, you hand him the drink. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

His cold fingers brush yours gently when he takes the glass into his hands. The straw vanishes between his lips momentarily, and then he proceeds to chuckle. “You’re right. It’s… definitely somethin’ else.”

This must be your lucky night. When was the last time a guy this good-looking approached you? He jerks his thumb toward the empty chair in front of you. “Are you waitin’ for someone?”

You can't help but smile. “Not anymore.” 

The attractive, charming stranger sits down, and you seize the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. You’re not sure of his age, but he’s older than you. He seems to be in his early 40s, the hair on his beard starting to get a bit gray. It’s subtle. If you weren’t such a perfectionist, perhaps you wouldn’t have seen it. But you did, and if possible, it just makes him come across as even more appealing to you.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, why did you order that drink?”

“Well, I didn’t. It was a gift for my friend,” you rest your chin on your palm, giving a half shrug. “She’s with the guy that gave it to her. The blonde girl over there, with the white tank top? That’s her.”

His eyes follow your gaze, finding Stacy just a couple of meters away from where the two of you were talking. She raises one of her hands in greeting, the boy from before attached to her hip like a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

“She seems nice,” he murmurs once he focuses his attention on you again. 

“Yeah, she is,” as you finish that sentence, you feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your jacket. “Excuse me.”

It’s a text from Stacy. Said message reads: 

whose dad is that??? he’s hot af

You laugh at her occurrence, and he tugs at his shirt collar. “What happened?”

“She texted me: whose dad is that?” staring at him, you lift an eyebrow. “Do you have any children I should know of?”

The stranger seems to hesitate before replying. “No, I don’t,” you watch him lick his lips. “Why? You’re not into dads?”

He's cocky. Good thing you like cocky.

Time flies. You learn some things about him: he’s from Texas (the southern accent gives him away) and works as a contractor (just like your dad, you think, which is funny.) When he reveals how old he is, he seems to look for any sign of discomfort on your features. “I’m forty-five.”

“Twenty-three,” you retort with your own age. He glances up to the ceiling, and you give a bitter laugh. “Is it a problem for you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that to you?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind.” If anything, you like him more. However, there’s one mystery left to bring to light. “What I do mind is that we’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.”

He leans back in his chair. “Let's play a game.”

“Be careful. I’m really competitive.”

“You have three chances to guess my name. I’ll just give you my initial. You gotta do the rest, deal?”

What were the odds of guessing it? I should take the risk, you think as you find yourself already nodding your head. “Deal.”

“It starts with the letter J.”

“Jack,” it’s the first name that comes to your mind. For an instant, you believe you’ve won, but then you catch him smirking. “It’s not Jack, isn´t it?"

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Keep tryin’.”

“Josh?”

“Ice cold.”

“Joe?”

Something you're unable to even distinguish glows in his eyes. “I’m givin’ you one more chance.”

“So I’m close?” you ask him, probably too enthusiastic. He doesn’t say anything else, so you go on. “Is it Joel?”

He places a hand on top of his shirt where his heart is, pretending to act relieved. “Fuckin’ finally.”

You punch your fists into the air. “Yes! I knew I was gonna get it.” A sincere smile takes place on your face. “What’s my prize?”

“Well,” he inches forward, his pinky nudging your wrist, that mere touch giving you goosebumps. “You could give me your number and go on a proper date with me.”

God knows you want it. Rising from your seat, you tuck a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “I was thinking of something else.”

That’s how you end up in the ladies restroom, your back flushed against the wooden door as Joel presses his clothed knee between your legs. You moan into his mouth without thinking if there are any other people outside waiting to use the bathroom. Joel draws in a long breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you. “You wanna put on a show for the others? I'm not one to judge."

“I want to suck you off,” your hand is dangerously close to his crotch, your nails ghosting over his zipper. He seems to be having an internal fight with the last brain cell he has left, but then he detaches himself from you, unzipping his jeans. The sound of his belt hitting the floor with a thud is what finally leads you to fall to your knees.

He’s big. You can tell his size from your position, a wet patch forming into the fabric of his boxers. Playing with the waistband of his boxers for a mere second, your self-control attempts to falter. You grab him by the base, stroking it experimentally. Joel fights back a groan, urging you to take him. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t like t’beg.”

But you do, that’s the thing. “Please,” you whisper, hoping he’ll hear you. His eyes find yours and suddenly it clicks. A lightbulb goes on in his head. He curses under his breath, directing his dick towards your open parted lips, and your eyelids get heavy as the taste of his precum invades your tastebuds.

It’s not your fault he has an amazing dick.

You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of his length with every one of your short movements. Slick must be already staining your own panties, but you can’t get yourself to care about that insignificant detail. Not now, when Joel’s hips thrust deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat and making you gag. It's dirty, and you should probably be ashamed of getting caught by a bystander. All your worries are swept away from your mind the moment he decides not to keep quiet. “Fuck, baby. Knew you would put that gorgeous mouth to good use. Attagirl, takin’ me so well.”

A stupid whine gets lost somewhere in your vocal tract. Intertwining your fingers with his, you locate his wandering hands on your hair, wishing he'll take the hint. He does, and grabs a handful of it, pulling you off his cock. 

“You really like this, don’t ya’?” Joel smears your lower lip with your spit. “Were you thinkin’ about this while we were talkin’ back there?”

“Y-yes,” you try to take him in your mouth again, but he doesn’t allow you to, his iron grip on your nape getting tighter the more you fight against it.

Then he lets you have it. “Bet you get off on this too,” his voice drops an octave, and it sounds so nasty and intimate you’re on the verge of crying. With teary eyes, you swallow around his length. 

You lose track of time. His bare thighs tremble and the only noise you can hear is his heavy breathing. “F—fuck. I’m close, where do you want it?” Mumbling something you can’t even comprehend with his cock still in your mouth, his thrusts begin to lose finesse, thick fingers holding you where he needs you the most. “So good, baby. Lettin’ me have you like this. Fuckin’—“

He’s about to come.

“—good girl.”

It all happens so fast you have to remind yourself to gulp down his cum, hot and sticky and just Joel’s. You patiently wait for him to come down from his high, nuzzling his happy trail. He helps you stand up, kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue. As soon as he tries to sneak a hand into your panties, getting closer to your aching cunt, you recognize your phone ringing in the distance.

Groaning, you stretch your arm, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Well, hi. This is awkward.”

You frown. Joel mimics you. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”

“I’m calling you from Stacy’s phone. We were making out and then she told me she was feeling sick, so I took her outside… and now she’s throwing up,” the boy on the other side of the line explains to you and you detect a hint of agitation in his voice. “She asked me to contact you.”

“Oh, God. Hot-waiter?”

“Yeah, she also said you were probably going to call me that,” he seems to move his phone away from his ear, and then talks to you again. “She’s not passed out, but she shouldn’t stay here.”

Does he actually think you’re going to leave her alone? “Can you tell me where you are?” you suggest him while Joel tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Next to the parking lot.”

You hang up after telling him you’ll be there in five minutes, and you feel Joel’s lips on your neck, a sigh spilling from you. His teeth nip at your sensitive skin. “You gotta go?”

Humming, you smooth down your skirt, facing the mirror and observing your reflection, some leftover mascara sticking your eyelashes together. He appears right behind you, his broad frame becoming more visible this way. “Stacy’s throwing up. I have to take her home.”

“Do you have a car?” 

“No, but I’ll call an uber. It’s no big deal.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips. “I brought my truck. Let me help you.”

Of course he has a truck. 

“Joel, you don’t have to,” you massage the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. 

“It’s the least I can do,” tilting his head, his lips catch yours once again. “Consider it my way of thankin’ you, since I cannot return the favor.”

It shouldn’t feel like this. You weren’t used to doing this kind of thing on a regular basis, but you’re more than sure that men don’t treat you this way after sucking them off. Still, you accept his offer since it means you’ll get to spend more time with him.

He walks you out and helps you get Stacy on her feet. As she sees Joel, she spreads her arms wide, hugging him. “Oh my God! It’s the hot dad!”

“Sweetie, you have like— puke all over your clothes,” you tell her, so Stacy chooses to hug you instead. “She gets pretty sensitive when she’s drunk.”

“I can tell,” Joel opens the back door of his truck, jerking his head in the direction of it. “Get her inside while I start the car.”

It all goes pretty well from then on. He asks you for Stacy’s address and you give it to him, the palm of his hand resting on top of your left thigh. Stacy gets comfortable in the back seat, yawning. “You two look like my parents before they got divorced.”

“That’s a really nice compliment,” you mutter with irony as Joel laughs by your side, rubbing his chin.

Soon after that, she falls asleep. Joel parks his car right in front of Stacy’s porsche. He glances over his shoulder, making sure she’s still sleeping before his seatbelt’s off and he’s grabbing you by the jaw, leaning in for a kiss. The fucker’s a very good kisser, you notice throughout the night.

“Are you gonna give me your number?” he murmurs against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours. 

“It depends. Will you call me?”

He tells you he will, and you prefer to trust him as you watch him save your number, a smiley face next to your name.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Joel doesn’t call you.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s starting to get to you. He did sound honest. Why the hell did he treat you like that if he wasn’t planning on calling you? Why did he insist so much on getting your number?

Men suck. Joel sucks, you decide after a whole afternoon of staring at your phone, waiting to receive a text from him. Given the situation, anything would make you feel better.

Hey! It’s Joel, from the bar. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I forgot to tell you I’m married and have three children, two cute little puppies and a cat. Anyways, what a great night we had! Take care!

Okay. Perhaps not anything.

You’re home, sitting on the couch while you watch a meaningless TV programme. It consists of answering random questions, and if you get them wrong, you fall down some dark tunnel that only God knows where it takes you.

Normally, during a night like this, you’d be studying or perhaps at Stacy’s. But tonight, your father had asked you to actually stay. He didn’t tell you why he specifically needed you there, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Out of the blue, you hear the doorbell ring. None of your parents seem to be on the first floor, so you walk to the door, opening it. 

You choke on your own saliva.

Joel’s here. Joel, who didn’t call you. Joel, who looks absolutely good with his hair slicked back. 

“Did I ever tell you where I lived?” the tone of your voice falters, your legs suddenly feeling wobbly.

He can’t believe it either. “No. I must have the wrong address,” keeping his eyes fixated on the box of chocolates dangling from his hand, he straightens his back. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you hiss, your pupils flared with anger. “Why the fuck are you at my house, with a freaking box of chocolates, when you couldn’t bring yourself to call me?”

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s your dad. He contemplates the scene with a smile. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Trust me, my wife and I taught her better manners than this. Don’t know why she didn’t invite you in. Food’s almost ready!”

You’re about to short-circuit. Definitely not a joke.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel Miller. Remember I told you last week that someone from the company was coming over for a while? Well, this is him,” your father chuckles, expecting you to come up any kind of answer.

Joel’s faster than you, intending to shake your hand, those same calloused fingers that he had used to touch you in that dirty bathroom now playing dumb. “Nice to meet you.”

If he wants to pretend you don’t know each other, then so be it.

You squeeze his hand without measuring your strength. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Turns out that your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker were low, but never zero. 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

tags: @spurz :)

[wawataka]

as much as i LOVE the ending to mob psycho 100 (truly a beautiful way to wrap everything up) the one thing that bothers me most is shou’s character development

I think it’s specifically because of his lack of screen time and ONE trying to keep the manga 100 chapters long but he really shot himself in the foot with that. Mostly everyone was written well but I feel like he ran out of time to write everything he really wanted (remember that off handed remark about an esper awakening from Claws horrifying chambers? never brought up again). I feel like for the most part, every other character has a satisfying ending. It aligns with their goals. Serizawa finally feels like he is contributing good to society. Teru understands he isn’t special but hey, nobody is. Reigen isn’t alone anymore. Ritsu and Mob have come to accept Mob for who he is and have started the process of moving on from their trauma. Shou has… well he beat his father. but that wasn’t really him. That was Mob. He spent his whole life coming up with ways to get Toichiro to see some sense and in the end, it had to be someone else. Not him. Not his son. Do you think he ever moved on from that? Do you think he knows he has to? He can technically live his life “normally” now but can he? We can’t even know how he’s dealing with everything because he doesn’t show up in season three at all until like episode 11 (NOT counting the maid cafe scene although it was undeniably really funny). and the thing he takes away from his experience fighting Mob?

BROTHER THEY MADE A WHOLE SHOW ABOUT WHY YOU SHOULDN’T DO THAT. YOU’RE IN THAT SHOW. It almost feels like he’s going backwards??? Like I understand where he’s coming from, and for my own peace of mind i’ve been trying to think he meant it for like violence. but i cannot stop thinking of a Shou that quit using his powers entirely. i literally stopped typing this post and stared at the ceiling rn because of it. like i’m not crazy right?? i can’t be the only one who feels like something is missing about his character??? that CAN’T be what he walks away with

Also this might be a “and the curtains were blue” moment but i also want to talk about this omake

Yeah sure it’s devastating but then I actually started thinking about it. The title is called “Suzuki Shou 13 Years old.” Which is interesting to me because Shou was 12 almost the whole story. His birthday is in december (RIP). He turned 13 like just a month before the confession arc took place. The only thing i don’t know is if he has this dream before or after. I really hope it’s before because if he had this dream post confession arc then ouch???? ?? because if it’s after then that means he clearly hasn’t moved on from everything?? he’s still being haunted by his origin?? and we’re never gonna see him ever move on?? ONE i’m going to kill you and then kill you again make a shou spin off NEOW

[ingydar-phan]

I think people are misinterpreting my stance on dangender. So let me say more, I guess.

- I am not indirecting anybody. This is a wide topic with varying ideas in it. My stances aren’t about the participants, they’re about the topic itself.

- I do not think having this stance is inherently harmful, transphobic, or unethical. I think some aspects can be rooted in harmful things but believing in dangender doesn’t make someone a bad person.

- My issue isn’t about boundaries themselves or crossing lines DNP have set. I know some people agreeing with me are making it about that, but that’s not what it’s about for me. I am super icked out by people who think they’re doing some sort of holy work by “protecting” their “innocent blorbos” or whatever from other peoples opinions/speculation. I’m not trying to be like “how dare you! If he saw this his feelings would be hurt!”. In fact, I think if Dan were to see dangender posts, he’d probably giggle, tilt his head, and be like “hmm yea ok I see what you’re saying!”. Im not trying to decipher what lines DNP have laid out themselves about what’s ok and what’s too much. Nobody can do that accurately besides DNP themselves, and this is a fandom space, so that’s not what I’m worried about, even though people seem to think it is.

I think it is absolutely true that having queer people in the phandom pre-BIG discussing DNPs relationship and queerness was a huge part of empowering Dan to come out. He’s said it in BIG, he said it in TIT, he’s said it a lot. Their community being nosy gays is how he found the space to come out. I know this. I affirm and agree with this.

My issue is there’s a difference between laying ground for mind-opening, and acting like there’s a confirmed secret being hidden from us when it comes to Dans gender. So, the difference between thinking “maybe if Dan really dug into what his gender could be, knowing it’s a safe space, he may come out with an idea of something more complex than cis” and thinking “he is for a fact trans/enby and already knows this, he’s just hiding it, and trying to hint it at everyone through these secret codes.”

All the jokes about phyuri and DNP looking like lesbians, the calling Dan “she” or “wife”, wanting DNP to watch I Saw The TV Glow, transmascs seeing themselves in Dan, that IS the community opening our arms and saying to be free to feel however you want to feel and express yourself however you desire. That’s so beautiful.

Collecting evidence that you surely know better than Dan himself that he’s actually secretly trans and hiding it is just, different, and is what makes me uncomfortable.

Lest we not forget that gender and sexuality, that queerness as a whole, are intertwined. A young confused traumatized Dan feeling urges to express femininity is just queerness itself, not specifically transness. Queer men are often inherently viewed as feminine, and going outside of strict gender expectations is a part of gayness for many gay men. Feeling like you’re different from your peers, like you want to express yourself outside of the norm, is tied into all forms of queerness. Dan is gay: he knows he’s gay, he’s worked hard to call himself gay. Gayness is queerness, and queerness is unique expression. His complex feelings about non-masculine expression tie into his gayness because he is a queer man. Him having those complex feeling about expression and self image do not mean he’s trans. They mean he’s queer period. What type of queer is up to him; and clearly the expression and label of queerness that he finds most accurate to himself is gay man. You can be a cis gay person and still have your queerness attach to your gender without it making you trans.

May he one day in the future find that that complex expression of queerness goes into his gender to the extent of transness? Maybe! I don’t know! Would I support him? Of course! Would I look back regretfully? No! I’m not attempting to prevent anyone from building a welcoming space. I just don’t like this assertion of specific labels and the idea that you know better than him. That is it.

[aesethewitch]

When Witching Goes Wrong: Basics

Not all spells that go wrong are “backfires.” A backfire occurs when a spell’s result is antithetical to the result you wanted to cause — it causes a negative outcome, often coming back onto you as the caster, but sometimes creating the opposite effect as was desired on the target. For example, casting a money attraction spell and losing a wallet full of cash as a result would be considered a backfire. A spell that fizzles, does nothing, or produces an unexpected (but not negative) side-effect wouldn’t be a backfire (in my opinion, that is).

Most spells that go wrong aren’t backfires. In general, you’re likelier to have a spell that acts unexpectedly or that simply fizzles than one that blows up in your face somehow. You shouldn’t be anxious about a backfire. But, as someone with lots of experience in the realm of worrying about worst-case scenarios, I understand the impulse.

The solution is to understand what can go wrong, how to prevent it, and what to do in the event of an actual worst-case scenario. My goal with this post (and with this WWGW series) is to help you feel less anxious about spells going wrong and more prepared to deal with whatever comes your way.

So, let’s start from the beginning.

Outcome Projection

Risk assessment, mitigation, and management. Fellow corporate drones (former or current) will know exactly what I’m talking about here. The idea is to predict possible ways that things can go wrong and either prevent them entirely or put strategies in place to deal with them ahead of time. It’s damage control before the damage occurs.

Now, the key here is to not go overboard. Fellow chronic worriers will know the horrible allure of going down every possible path of anxiety, only to find ourselves paralyzed entirely by the fear that something will go wrong. Remember that most spells do not backfire. In most cases, the worst thing (and most common negative outcome, in my experience) that can happen is that nothing happens. The next most common is unexpected side effects, but those are usually easily dealt with.

The goal is to ensure the success of the spell. For example, when you’re looking for a new place to live, you don’t want to just look for the number of bedrooms and the finishes in the kitchen. You want to account for the appliances, the heating/cooling systems, the quality of the flooring, signs of water damage, signs of mold… all sorts of things.

A similar concept applies to accounting for backfires/failures in spellwork. You want to close loopholes and think about the outcomes you specifically don’t want — and then incorporate ways to prevent those things from happening.

The Ways Spells Can Go Wrong

The spell fully backfires. By “fully backfires,” I mean that it completely fails and creates the exact opposite outcome to what you were going for. Using a love spell as an example, this could include the target leaving your life, forming negative opinions of you, or becomes interested in someone else (particularly if you were trying to pull attention from that someone else onto yourself).

The spell is bounced back to you. This is more unusual than you think! I often see the warning about spells being redirected back at the caster in arguments against hexing and cursing others. I’ve had exactly one spell reversed back at me, and it was because the target was 1. A witch, and 2. Expecting it.

The spell’s primary result is unexpected. Not necessarily bad, just not what you meant to do. For example, casting a spell to get a promotion at work and discovering that your close friend is getting a promotion instead.

The spell has unexpected side effects. Like casting a spell for good luck on yourself and having everyone around you experience good luck, too. Or casting a spell that successfully improves your workplace’s vibe, only to find out that the mean coworker nobody likes finally got fired, and that’s why everyone is more relaxed and cheerful. Or, more negatively, you do get that promotion you cast for, but now you’re saddled with more work than you can handle, because your bosses think you’re highly capable of it all!

The spell does absolutely nothing. Perhaps one of the more common ways a spell can go wrong, this is exactly what it says on the tin. You put the energy in, you did all the steps, but the spell just… doesn’t go anywhere. In other words, it fizzles and simply doesn’t work at all.

As with most topics in witchcraft, there’s an infinite amount of nuance to apply here. There are more ways spells can go wrong, and not all of these things would necessarily be considered “going wrong.”

It may be worth deducing why the spell went wrong. Was it the materials? The petition or incantation? A lack of energy, or maybe an overabundance? Spirit influence? Protections surrounding the target? Knowing what exactly went wrong can help you prevent the same issues in the future, but it can also help you to better fix the spell in the moment.

Preventatives

The particulars are going to depend heavily on your personal practice, the type of spell you’re doing, and how detailed you want to get. These suggestions are based on things I personally take into account when I’m trying to close loopholes and prevent unwanted outcomes.

Be specific in your wording. Especially if your spell has any kind of spoken or written component, be as specific as you can. “Draw money to me” is a general sentiment that could absolutely work, but what money is it bringing in? A bonus at work? A dollar on the street? A gift from grandma? Inheritance? It could be anything at that point. “Draw good, repeat customers to my small business to help me reach my profit goal of $10,000 before the end of the year” is specific, focused, and measurable. There isn’t much room for surprise side effects.

Choose ingredients carefully. Work with ingredients whose purposes you know. In my spell recipes, I list every ingredient’s correspondence, because in my practice, those things matter. Ensure that the “active ingredients” in your spell align with your goal properly. Rogue elements create rogue effects!

Include failsafe measures. As in, create ways you can cancel the spell at any point. This can have the side effect of making your spells easier to undo, particularly if your target is also a witch who understands how you construct your spells. If doing this, it’s best to create a method that is obscured and unique to you.

Add ingredients or instructions specifically to avoid particular side effects or outcomes. Find a component or two that can protect your working from unwanted effects, backfires, and interference. Include instructions for the spell for things it shouldn’t do. For example, trying to create issues for one particular person at work shouldn’t harm their innocent teammates.

Undo It

The first step to consider is undoing the spell. Not all paradigms allow for this, so it may not be possible for you. For me, it depends on the particular spell and how much change it’s created. The bigger the impact, the less likely a simple undo will work.

Still, it’s worth a try. Undoing a spell might take a few forms, depending on how you originally cast it:

Take the spell apart. Disassemble the spell into its components and cleanse them of the spell’s energy.

Destroy the vessel and components. Burning, tearing, burying, flushing, throwing away, and so forth. Be careful to not bury things that could harm the earth, animals, or people — including glass, salt, and plastics. Compost and recycle when you can.

Dismiss spirits working within the spell. End the contract around the spell’s working and request that the spirits stop powering it. You could also request their assistance in undoing the spell. You may have to make offerings either way, depending on the terms of your agreement.

Perform the spell in reverse. This includes speaking incantations backwards, performing all actions backwards, taking components apart, re-cleansing, and putting things away where you originally got them from.

Draw the spell’s energy/effects out of the target’s body and/or the affected area. Using energy work, absorb the spell’s energy into a vessel. Capture it and either allow it to dissipate or bottle it up to keep it in check. I don’t recommend absorbing the energy into yourself, as that may draw the spell’s unwanted effects to you (or make them worse).

I typically employ a combination of strategies to undo a spell, if it’s possible in the first place. If it’s a simple spell, performing it in reverse is the easiest method. I’ll then cleanse, destroy, and dispose of the materials.

But when it isn’t possible to simply undo the spell…

Cast Another Spell

…The answer might be to cast another one. In my mind, there are several ways to do this.

The first is to cast a spell to negate the original’s effects completely. I would approach this method the same way as any other spell. Focus on the effects you’re looking to negate, and cast accordingly. A banishing spell would work well for this to shoo away the spell’s energy, but a cleansing spell to clear the target would also work. Or, you can get more specific. For example, if a spell has generated a string of unlucky events, you could cast a spell for good luck in order to nullify the bad luck of the first spell. The goal would be to cancel out the original spell’s effects in some way.

The second way is to cast a spell to adjust the original’s outcome. There are a lot of ways to do this. You could directly modify the original spell by adding or removing ingredients that might’ve caused the negative outcome, redo written or spoken incantations/petitions, or cast a “companion spell” to redirect the original’s energy to a more favorable end. For example, in a money spell that’s giving everyone else good fortune, you could place a magnet with your personal information on it atop the spell vessel to draw money to you rather than the people around you. The idea here is not to end the original spell, but to realign it to your particular needs.

Another way is to cast a spell specifically to control side effects. Sometimes, a spell can’t be undone, and you can’t easily modify the main outcomes (particularly true if the negative events caused by the spell happen quickly or outside your control). Or maybe the bulk of the spell worked properly, but there’s one or two minor negative side effects you don’t want to continue. The method for this would be similar to adjusting the original spell’s outcome, but on a smaller scale and in a less direct fashion. For example, your job spell got you that promotion, hooray! But now you’re stressed out by training someone to take your place, and you’re learning your new position. You can cast a spell to reduce stress or prevent people from piling additional work on you while you adjust, controlling the side effects of the promotion.

A way I use for high-stakes spells is to cast wards or other protections before casting the main spell to prevent backfire or unwanted effects ahead of time. I often do this for spells surrounding situations that are delicate or that need extra care. In my case, it’s a general, long-term ward against bad luck on a wider scale, and it catches negative spell side effects as part of its job. You can set up temporary wards if you prefer, or make them for very specific purposes. Whatever works for you.

Cast the same spell again. This isn’t my usual go-to, unless I’m trying a new spell method or ingredient I’m unfamiliar with. I’ll usually recommend trying the same spell again when the first casting does absolutely nothing, since multiple castings can make a spell stronger and more effective. However, if a spell backfires or otherwise causes undesirable effects, I wouldn’t really recommend it, as the negative effects can compound, too, if it misfires again.

Ask for Help

If the problems caused by your spell are too big for you to handle on your own, it’s okay to reach out for help! Whether you’re looking for suggestions and advice or hands-on assistance, knowing when and how to ask for help is a critical skill.

Ask the witchcraft community (or your witchy friends) questions. Join a Discord, forum, Tumblr community, or other witchy space. Make a post to explain your situation and request suggestions, advice, and ideas to deal with the situation at large. Not all suggestions will be entirely helpful, but you’ll at least get some new perspectives to shed light on your situation. If people you know directly (in real life or online) practice witchcraft, see what they think.

Chat with spirits. Especially if you already work with spirits or if spirits helped you to cast/power the original spell, this can be a solid way to come up with a solution that will work. Use your preferred method of communication to discuss the situation. If possible, see if they’ll help you either undo or mitigate the spell’s unwanted results.

Ask non-witchy friends for advice. Their advice will probably be mundane, but sometimes, those are the best solutions. Outside perspectives are useful to recontextualize problems and come up with solutions you wouldn’t have otherwise considered.

Find books, videos, tutorials, blog posts, and other resources on the subject. When all else fails, or when you’re a little shy about asking for help directly, there are still resources out there to help you solve your dilemmas. Just remember to vet your sources before naively following instructions given to you.

Deal with Consequences Mundanely

Sometimes, there’s just nothing for it. Whether you don’t have time and energy or you’ve already tried more magic and had it fail, there are times when you have to turn to the mundane. Depending on the severity of the situation you’re in, solutions will vary in their successfulness. And honestly, that’s just how it is sometimes. Sometimes, things don’t wrap up nicely and easily and neatly.

With that said, here are a handful of mundane responses and solutions I’ve turned to after spells went wrong (and couldn’t be otherwise fixed):

Come clean and apologize. Particularly applicable when you’re doing a spell on or for another person, sometimes, there’s just nothing else to do but admit you fucked up. If the person impacted by the spell’s effects, directly or indirectly, isn’t a magical practitioner themselves, you could simply apologize for meddling in the situation. On the other hand, if you’ve harmed or offended a spirit with your spellwork, you might make an offering to apologize for the trouble you’ve caused.

Come up with mundane strategies for damage control. Depending on how severe the spell’s negative effects are, the level of effort for this is going to obviously vary. It could be anything from redoing your household budget to breaking out the toolbox for repairs to building an actual fence to making dinner. Your solution is going to depend on your problem. Think strategically.

Seek out new, improved coping mechanisms. Whether you’re looking to resolve feelings that are caused by the spell’s backfire or ones that made you cast in the first place, sometimes, a bit of self-care is the best solution. Consider why you cast the spell in the first place — lack of control, poor self-worth, low confidence? Or was it just because you felt it could help you with a little boost to the work you were already doing? It’s worth thinking about. What mundane safety nets do you have in place?

Let it go. Perhaps the most difficult option: Just letting the bad result be. Moving on from it. Taking the lumps and the lesson, and walking away. Giving up is a skill. It’s not a moral failing to let things go. If fighting will only make things worse, or if you’re tired of trying to fix it, it’s okay to just… let it be a failure.

Conclusions

Again, this is far from comprehensive. The suggestions here are basic ideas to help inspire you to form your own opinions and solutions. It’s smart to consider these things in advance! As my mother always says, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

I have plans to expand the idea of “When Witching Goes Wrong” into a wider series of posts, each focusing on a very specific problem, spell type, or solution (like a post just about ways to undo a spell, for example). Those are likely to include true stories about things I’ve personally fucked up… which are always the best witchy stories, in my opinion. Lol.

If you're interested in more WWGW entries, check out the masterpost.

Anyhow! If you got something out of this post or my other work, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar. Support goes toward bills and keeping our household fed and healthy, so it’s very much appreciated. Supporters got to see this post a full week early!

If there’s a particular subject you want to see covered, feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment on this post (or any of the posts in the series!). As long as it’s something I actually have experience with, I’m happy to cover just about anything.

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Two)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff, mentions that reader moved to korea, if i missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 1,953

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

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“So am I your captive or what?”

Chan paused, looking up from his food, “What?”

You looked back at him, still chewing a mouthful of food, sitting criss-cross on his bed while he ate on the bed opposite yours, “Are you holding me hostage here until I… I don’t know, do whatever I’m supposed to do? Succumb to Stockholm syndrome or something?”

It was the next morning when Chan knocked on your door once again, and he didn’t actually expect you to open the door for him. You looked back at him with no expression, just blinking as he stared back in surprise. He was frozen seeing you cooperating even a little bit.

Strange werewolf hunter, was all he could think.

He had told you breakfast was about to be ready, but then you scowled and stated you weren’t going downstairs to eat with the pack. Were you holding a grudge against the two members of his pack that you’d scuffled with? Well, yeah. They both hurt you pretty badly – especially that Seungmin guy. If you had a chance, you’d give him a piece of your mind.

So a few minutes later, Chan returned with two plates of food and with a grin, said he was going to eat with you upstairs. So that’s what you were doing. And, again, he was shocked you were letting him keep you company. You were…oddly nice for a werewolf hunter – or supposed werewolf hunter.

“There’s no Stockholm syndrome if you’re not captive,” he chuckled with a shrug. “I guess…yeah, you could leave if you wanted.”

You were surprised by his answer, freezing mid-bite and just staring at him for a moment. He stared back, raising his eyebrows for your response.

“You’re not gonna force me into being your mate…?” you quizzed slowly, surprised that he was telling you that you had the option to leave.

“I mean, you and I both know I’m a hell of a lot stronger than this door. If I wanted to do anything to you, I could’ve by now, but you survived a night here. Woke up safe and sound,” he pointed out. “Besides…you could probably kill me if you wanted to.”

While that was true, you didn’t know if he could sense you didn’t have any plans to do so – at least not to Chan. You had started out as a hunter, but after fleeing to Korea, your father started training you and your brother to hunt werewolves specifically. And while you might’ve been really good at most parts of the training, it didn’t mean you liked what you were doing. But you wouldn’t let your father or brother know that.

“I don’t really have any weapons that could subdue a werewolf, though,” you reminded him.

“Well maybe if someone didn’t try to pull a knife on one of my pack,” he cocked his head and gave you a pointed smile.

“Nobody got hurt,” you scoffed, going back to your breakfast.

“There would’ve been a round two in my kitchen if I didn’t catch you before you jumped Minho,” he stated.

Okay, maybe he was right. However, the question of if you’d win that fight or not was definitely debatable considering you only had that tiny pocket knife as your weapon. Among…other reasons. But again, you were unsure if he knew that. He must’ve. He probably didn’t sense any werewolf hunter with you in the house, which was actually embarrassing on your part.

You were just grateful your father and brother lacked the senses that werewolves had.

As you settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate, your mind began to wander as it tended to do since ending up in this situation. And there was a lot to think about considering Chan was a werewolf, and you were a werewolf hunter who had…very strange circumstances.

Despite the fact you were training to be his sworn enemy, Chan didn’t seem to care. It was like he completely disregarded whatever instincts he had, and had given into the mating pull already. How he managed to just let go without a care, you weren’t sure. Your favorite answer was that Chan was just crazy and didn’t know how to be careful. But you figured it was because of how strong the pull was. Because if what the hunters taught you was correct about the strength of the pull, it would lead a person to do some very crazy and dangerous things…

But you were crazy, too, weren’t you? Because you hadn’t threatened him, tried to harm him, or even tried to run away once. You stayed in his bed when you woke up that morning and just thought. You didn’t try to sneak out or scream for help. You were letting this werewolf hold you captive, but he wasn’t even holding you captive. You were just staying at your own will at this point while his arms stayed wide open, giving you an out.

Yes, both of you were crazy. But maybe you were crazier than he was because the pull wasn’t even as strong for you as it was for him.

So, to at least keep a shred of your pride, you broke the silence and said, “Don’t think that this means I trust you now. I only wanted sustenance.”

“Of course,” he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, hunter.”

“Your alpha must be angry with you,” you mused, putting a little less food into your mouth this time. “You’re a stupid wolf for imprinting on a– werewolf hunter.”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you hesitated with your words for a split second, the sentence almost flowing seamlessly but not quite as you tacked the ‘werewolf’ on at the last second.

But he didn’t seem to, scoffing with amusement by your comment, but he didn’t say why. Instead, he sat back in the chair like he was becoming more relaxed around you, especially now that your stomach had quieted.

“You’re one to talk. You let a wolf into your room when you have no weapons or defense. I even locked you in here and you didn’t complain once,” he pointed out. “I haven’t even heard you screaming for help up here.”

Your mouth opened, but silence followed instead. You almost gave yourself away, stopping before it was almost too late.

You realized Chan reminded you of him. Actually, the whole scenario did. You weren't sure you liked that, feeling your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What’s up?” Chan wondered, noticed you staring into space with your mouth open.

Your mouth snapped shut and you quickly shook your head, “Nothing.”

You were becoming too soft around him so quickly. You were getting too comfortable without realizing, and you knew it was because of the mating pull. Suddenly, you could hear your brother and father’s voices in your head.

All werewolves are bad, _____, your father spat in your face during your very first werewolf hunter lesson, Even if you think you know them, they’re evil, horrible creatures! If you don’t kill them first, they’ll turn on you eventually.

But that memory made you think of another…

It’s your fault this happened, Nolan had scoffed at you once after one of your training sessions. You weren’t very good back then because, frankly, you didn’t want to be good, and your brother was pissed at you for not putting your heart in it, If it wasn't for you, we’d still be home and everyone would be happy and alive. Then you act like you don’t even want to make things right? I should shoot you myself, you fucking traitor.

You set the food down and shoved it away from you.

“I think you should go,” you stated coldly.

Chan suddenly sat up straighter, confusion on his face at how you suddenly seemed to just flip a switch, “What?”

“Get out,” you told him, looking across the room at him, dead in the eyes.

“I– What? Wait, was it what I said?” he asked quickly with a twinge of hurt in his eyes that you definitely noticed as he stood from the bed. “_____, I didn’t mean–”

You stood from the bed and pointed at the door, “You just had to feed me. I’m fed. Go. Away.”

Chan stood as well and walked over to where you stood in the middle of the room. Without thinking, he reached out to hold your hand, “_____–”

Immediately, your instincts kicked in. You quickly turned on your heel, keeping his hand in yours while reaching for his arm with the other, holding it over your shoulder. Then you pulled and bent over, throwing the werewolf over your body until he landed with a loud thud on the hardwood.

He didn’t even seem hurt. He just stared up at you in shock. He even seemed…a bit impressed. You’d just flipped him with ease.

You were shocked yourself. Some part of you felt...bad.

But now you could hear multiple sets of feet running up the stairs, and you knew you were in for it if his pack saw that you flipped him on his back. You harmed him. You were a threat to them now. Obviously you couldn’t fight all of them, so you just wanted to keep them all away from you.

“You have five seconds to get out of my room,” you told him, sounding more panicked than menacing.

Instead, he gave you a defeated look and pushed himself off the floor before going over to the bedroom door and unlocking it. He didn’t even look behind him as he left, but you heard the whine come from his chest.

Once the door was closed and you had locked it once again, you waited until you heard the commotion of the pack retreat back down the stairs. Then you sat back down on Chan’s bed and let out a deep sigh. Why did it have to be you? You were going through enough with conflicting ideals that went against what your family wanted you to feel. Now whatever higher power out there had to make it worse and force you to have feelings for a werewolf? Why did you have to be stuck being his mate? Why you? Why you?

You decided you needed to escape. The thought sent a twinge of pain to your heart that reminded you–

You shook the thought from your head, blinking rapidly to fight back tears as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Leaving was the only option for either of you to be safe. You wouldn’t tell Chan you wanted to keep him safe, but you knew you felt it and you had to act on it. The alternative was both of you getting killed, and probably even his pack. That wasn’t something you could let happen.

You glanced at the window that was perfectly centered between Chan's bed and Felix's. You stood and went to examine it, seeing a tree not too far from the window. You could probably jump to it and then climb down. Maybe while the pack was asleep.

You’d leave that night, you decided. You felt bad, thinking about leaving without any explanation. Maybe you could find a way to get some paper and a pen or something to leave a note?

No. If there was any evidence that you felt bad leaving…

As much as it hurt, you had to do it. You had to do a lot of other things in your life that hurt, anyway, so this was no different. Suck it up and carry on like always.

You were a strong werewolf hunter, after all. You had a reputation to live up to.

»»————-　　————-««

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The Creek - Evan 'Buck' Buckley x Reader 1/?

Summary: You grew up being best friends with the Buckley Siblings, all three of you coming from rough homes, but one by one everybody left, leaving you on your own to deal with it all..until one day you're able to tell Evan everything you wanted to the day he left.

Warnings: Mentions of drug use (cocaine), mentions/implications of past child abuse, implications that the father and friends are creeps.

A/N: Hello again, I am back! This is a new series I'm working on, this isn't edited or proof-read, so just lmk what you think!

You were only 6 whenever you met the Buckley’s, you had just moved into their neighborhood, taking residence in the home right next to theirs, you got really close with Maddy and Evan, you always met them in the creek a few blocks away of your guys’s houses. They never liked being home because their brother wasn’t there or their parents always yelled at Evan, and you never liked being home because your dad was really mean whenever he’d have his friends over to smell sugar together, which you always thought was weird until you were older and realized what exactly they were doing.

It became a ritual for years, always meeting them at the creek, you’d go on adventures, discovering new hidden spots around the creek where you’d play different imaginary games, but one day..Maddy wasn’t there anymore. Just Evan.

You pushed the branches from in front of you to reveal just the boy you watched grow from a little boy into a teenage boy, awkward acne covering his face, his hair dangling in front of his blood shot swollen eyes. “Hey Evan..what’s wrong?…is your sister hanging out with doug today?” You asked, disgust dripping in your voice whenever you mentioned her boyfriend “Maddie decided to move in with him..she’s gone..” he whispered, his voice cracking, you frowned rushing over hugging him tightly “are you okay?..I’m here for you Evan” you assured him squeezing him tightly, fighting off your own tears.

You two still met by the creek everyday, opening up more to each other day by day about what was going on at home, you ended up going to prom together, he was your escape from what was going on at home, the drug abuse got worse, and him and his friends got a lot creepier towards you now that you were getting older. After one night though, after a really bad fight with your dad, you rushed to the creek, your lip still dripping blood, your cheekbone slowly swelling and bruising, your sobs broke the silence in the air as you broke through the branches, and yet..nobody. Evan wasn’t there. Maybe something had happened at home?

You couldn’t think, you just ran, desperate to hear his words that somehow always comforted you, as you approached his house you saw his parents outside screaming towards Maddie’s jeep, Evan appearing from behind it holding a duffel bag “I don’t need this! I’m leaving!” He yelled before climbing in slamming the door, the tires squealing as he pulled off, and just for a moment, you thought at least, your teary eyes locked with his hate-filled ones. He just sped past, by now you had wiped the blood from your lip, making eye contact with his parents before shaking your head in disgust heading back to the house you so desperately wanted to run from just like Evan had done, why hadn’t he told you? He didn’t he take you with him? He knew what was going on at home, so why didn’t he?

You spent another 3 years in that home before finally leaving, moving with your friend who ended up getting a beach house from her parents in LA. You ended up getting a job babysitting a few kids that lived near your home, one kid specifically had most of your time, his father was a full-time firefighter and he had lost his mother not to long ago, so you were always trying to cheer him up.

As you walked into the Diaz household, you were greeted by your favorite noise, Christopher squealing and laughing from the living room "Alright, come on, Buck we gotta get to work before Bobby sends Hen out for us" You heard Eddie say to somebody "Eddie!? I'm here! Has Mr. Diaz eaten yet?" You called chuckling, it was something you had started calling Christopher after he had a bad day at school, you acted like a butler for the day taking him to do whatever he wanted that day, ever since then the name just stuck. "He has! his Buck took him out to eat at the pier this morning!" Eddie shouted back, you smiled walking through the doorway freezing right where you stood as you made eye contact with someone you swore you'd punch in the face next time you saw him. Evan fucking Buckley. "Oh hey! Buck this is Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n this is Buck!" Christopher cheered, Eddie picked up on your nervousness, coughing awkwardly nudging Buck forward who extended a hand out "Evan Buckley, but my friends call me Buck" He smiled, goddamnit that smile, you gulped down a sneer as you grabbed his hand going to shake it "Have we met you look really familiar?" He asked as you shook his hand smiling "Nope." You quickly replied "Alright come on, we're gonna be late" Eddie said, you watched as realization washed over Evan's face as he watched you the entire way out of the door.

"Eddie, you don't understand, I know her! and..I kinda did something messed up" Buck said as they climbed out of the firetruck heading towards the locker rooms to change, he had been trying to convince Eddie he knew you for 23 hours now, and finally, Eddie decided to humor him, letting him explain everything on the way to drop Buck off.

Whenever Eddie got home, he found Christopher fast asleep in his room, you posted up outside of his doorway in the hall, fast asleep leaning against the wall. "Hey, Y/n/n, come on, let's get you to the guest bed" He whispered, helping your still half asleep self to his guest bedroom, letting you fall asleep in there for the rest of the night.

You hadn't seen Evan again in three days, anytime you went to babysit Chris, Eddie would always give you a sympathetic look before leaving and it started to get under your skin, to the point where on your day off you drove to the firehouse, waiting patiently with the fire captain, Bobby Nash, for Evan to come in for a 'meeting'. You watched as Bobby nodded to the entrance where Evan walked in confused "I'll send him up for you" He said, giving you the same sympathetic look Eddie did as he left. You waited a few moments before Evan appeared at the top of the staircase "Y/n?" He asked nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he approached the chair in front of you. "I always said if I ever saw you again..I'd punch the little smile off of your face" You whispered, fidgeting with your nails, Buck sighed, his knee bouncing anxiously, waiting for the yelling and fighting that always came whenever he was a child getting reprimanded, but you just sat there. As he looked up he noticed the tears falling from your eyes onto your pantlegs "I-I was so worried about you, Evan" You whimpered quietly "Y-you left without even telling me anything..I-I thought I did something wrong, Evan" You continued, your broken voice slowly turning to a sob "I-I'm so sorry, y/n..I-I was hurting..and I needed to take time away, t-to find myself without hurting anybody I loved" He explained, His explanation just angered and upset you more "I was hurting! I was hurting, Evan! I told you about my dad! about his friends! everything I went through! you were my person, Evan! t-the one person i could cry to without being laughed at!" You cried pushing him off of you whenever he attempted to hug you "you left me, Evan. You left me there to die so you could save yourself. some firefighter" You scoffed, your face was red from crying, your entire body was shaking, you felt dizzy and like your legs were slowly turning into sand, your breathing was way faster than it should've been, you needed to get out.

As you approached the stairs, your vision was filled with spots and you knew this is where your walk ended for now. Eddie was quick to notice you as soon as he heard your shouts, rushing up the stairs skipping them three at a time to get to you right as you fell forward. Just by an inch he caught you, slowly lowering you down as he looked at Buck "Get me the med-kit and lifevac from the truck" He demanded, Buck quick to rush around the two of you to the ambulance, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, but as he lifted the bag from the ambulance the lump in his throat burst into sobs, he rushed up the stairs handing the supplies to Eddie looking at him "W-What do I do?" He whimpered.

You woke up not too long after that, your head was rested on Eddie's thigh as he watched the small machine monitoring your heartbeat, you took notice to someone holding onto your hand uncomfortably tight, you could feel something dripping onto your knuckles but from the way your body was positioned you couldn't see. "There she is, welcome back, Y/n" Bobby greeted, knelt a few feet in front of you, only now do you notice you've been moved to the carpeted part of the floor upstairs where you and Evan spoke. "I-I'm sorry, I need to go" You started but Eddie just rested his hand on your shoulder "You need to take it slow....That was almost a nasty fall, and your heart rate is still elevated" He said gently, you took his advice slowly sitting up, you could feel his hand resting on your upper back to help you support yourself until you were confident enough to do it on your own.

Once you were up, you saw him, Evan was still sat on the floor, off to the side holding your hand tightly, his leg bent slightly as it shook, his face almost resembling yours from earlier "Buckley, Easy on the hand" Bobby whispered gently to him, rubbing his shoulder gently, you had explained the situation to Bobby whenever you first got there, and while he knew Buck had somewhat of a dark past, he didn't think anything about the old friend Evan talked about. Bobby felt terrible for you both, seeing how much pain you were both in, he had met you before, he just knew you as Y/n the sweet babysitter that happily takes care of Chris. As Buck loosened his grip, you left your hand resting in his, you weren't sure if you should leave and never talk to anybody ever again, or maybe for a moment, you thought of staying, ignoring the glances of sympathy from others who now know your childhood story.

You stayed there for another hour before Eddie let you leave 'I just want to make sure you're okay' he'd tell you every time you asked to leave. As you sat on your couch in a daze you almost never noticed the knocking on your door, instead of answering like usual, you just shouted to come in, not moving from your position on your couch, covered in a blanket with your arms around your knees that were pulled to your chest. "I-I know you probably don't wanna see me but-" Evan's voice was cut off by Christopher's cheers as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you "Dad said you got sick today, so...I made Buck bring me over to take care of you!" He smiled, you could feel yourself starting to cry as you examined his happy cheerful face. Christopher was without a doubt the most thoughtful selfless boy you had ever met, so caring and sweet, and you were so happy to have him and his father as friends. Chris frowned sitting next to you as he hugged you as tight as he could "It's okay y/n.." He whispered, all you could do was hug him back, unable to say anything as Evan slowly walked over to sit on your recliner across from the couch "How about..I make us your favorite snack" He smiled getting up from his spot next to you to take the grocery bag from Evan rushing as fast as he could to the kitchen.

You were left in the living room with Evan, the air was thick as you tried to avoid his gaze "y/n.." He whispered, you could hear him shuffling around before feeling the cushion dip down next to you. "P-Please don't, Evan" You whimpered "I physically cannot handle this" You whispered, trying to stay strong, but once you met his gaze you folded, his curls were hanging infront of his puffy bloodshot eyes and all of a sudden you were kids again, Maddie had just moved out and you were at the creek. "I'm so sorry...I-I thought about you every day..I even tried to come back..to get you..or at least see you but your dad would tell me you left..or you ran off..or some random story.." He whispered "I never stopped looking for you..I left because Maddie ditched our plans of seeing the country..but once I realized I truly loved you, y/n..I always came back for you..I just..never found you until you showed up at Eddie's" He explained, his voice breaking, you could tell it was already strained "I have never cared more for anybody in this world than I did for you, and I was so fucking stupid for leaving you behind" He whispered, his breaking voice turned into a stifled sob whenever you fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly in a hug as you cried into your blanket "I hoped for you to come back every single time I had to deal with things alone..but you never did, Evan..so I left" You cried gripping onto his shirt

You ended up eating snacks and watching star wars with the boys until Chris ended up having to go home for the night, Evan promising he'd come back to you. You sat in the same spot waiting, watching the clock, your mind flashing back to all of the moments you'd spend watching the clock imagining Evan busting in to whisk you away but he never did. You turned slightly, watching the door, starting to imagine him walking through, the cute little smile he always had presenting itself as he walked in, but right as you started thinking that, the door opened. Buck walked in soaked from rain water, You smiled a bit "Didn't you have a jacket whenever you left?" You asked trying to hide your giggles "It started to pour and I didn't want Christopher's crutches to get wet or anything so I wrapped them in my jacket and a spare one I had in the truck" He explained sitting down next to you sighing "Evan!!" You groaned "You're gonna get my couch soaked!" You continued throwing your head back giggling, Evan smiled at you, not saying anything just admiring your smile and laugh.

You slowly looked at him noticing his stare "What's wrong?" You asked, nervousness starting to spread through your body "Nothing...I just..missed you" He whispered before bringing you into a hug, you sighed relaxing in his company, right as he went to kiss the top of your head gently, you went to look up at him, causing your lips to meet just right, neither of you pulled away though, Evan was as gentle as he could be. His fingertips felt like feathers as they gently cupped your cheek, your lips moving in sync together, the rain pattering softly on your window as you finally pulled away from each other.

"what now?.." You asked nervously.