#Patrick Fleck

[ledgerserious8]

..My Masterlists..

A Fact : Me as fan of heath ledger doesn't mean that i can't write for any another actor but most of this imagines is about him

My Wattpad..

Heath Ledger Imagines :

Break up with Him

Meeting your ex boyfriend

Roses from your lover

In the prison of the joker

Patrick want your heart

The joker fighting with batman

Heath survived because of you

Your boyfriend becomes playful

Joaquin Phoenix Imagines :

Interview with him

Waking up your boyfriend

Your neighbor is arthur

Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) Imagines :

Trust Issues from Bruce

He's Your Home

He's fighting the joker for you

Your boyfriend is so sick

Smut Imagines (soon) :

Put A Love (Patrick Verona)

Birthday Gift (Bruce Wayne)

Note : this post will keep getting updated or edited time by time in the future i will add a lot of characters and actors

Have 4 Nice Day..

[charliedawn]

Hey, I don't see any post saying requests are closed. Please correct me it I'm wrong, and I'll resend this ask when they're open :)

I saw one of your slasher posts about an new patient who was an omega and I've been wondering how a/b/o au slashers would react to a beta new patient who they saw as their own pup?(basically everyone is a father figure to this kid lol) I love platonic fluff and you're one of the few slasher writers who write platonic stuff and I love your writing, please stay hydrated and have a good day! :D

Here you go 😁 And thank you.

Freddy Krueger:

"You and I…we gonna be best buddies."

Freddy is a beta. Meaning: no real dominance or protective instincts.

He’d basically laugh his ass off while you run around and cause havoc or eat popcorn with Pennywise while they watch.

He’d train you in the ways of 'don’t give a toss' and 'get outta my way, bitch'.

Freddy would still protect you if he sees you in real danger, but he’d be the type of cool dad who just wants to chill and walk around in flip flops.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms would be a worry heart.

He’d worry 24/7 about you.

Have you eaten ? Have you drank ? Have you slept well ? Are you hurt ? Do you wanna play ?…

He’d cry his eyes out if he sees a scratch on you and whoever would dare cause you harm would end up beaten up.

Brahms is strong—even though he is an omega. He’d be the one to take care of you and make sure you’re perfectly safe.

Arthur Fleck:

Arthur would give you the best advice. He’s a beta—but used to be an omega. He’d have the heart without being overemotional about things.

"Don’t worry, things can look up. You just gotta wait and see."

"Be a doll and smile. Smiling will open up many doors for you."

"Do not listen to Freddy, sweetie. He is a bad influence. Matter-of-fact ? Do not listen to anyone else but me and Michael."

He would be your voice of reason in your darkest moments, but don’t ALWAYS listen to him because he is a patient for a reason…

Penny:

Overpossessive. Overprotective. Overthinking. Overdoing.

Penny would be the embodiment of "over-the-top". Doesn’t have any chill and would bite and scratch if anyone as much as looks at you the wrong way.

He can also read minds…which can be kind of a problem.

Penny *growls at a nurse* : "I DARE you to say what you want to say, coward."

He would also be very playful and play with you all day long. He’s got unending energy and would even put on shows for you.

Michael Myers:

Michael would be the only responsible one, as the Alpha of the slashers.

He’d make sure to never allow you near his knives or any sharp objects. He’d teach you self-defense. He’d also cook for you and teach you all of his skills (non-lethal)

He would also protect you but, would always use a weapon that won’t be too traumatic for your adorable self…like a baseball batt or a something else to just knock out the person who dared attack your person.

But Myers ? Myers would kill for you.

Myers has no parental instinct or remorse.

He kills because he can.

Father Paul Hill:

Father Paul—as a Beta—would protect you with his life. He always wanted to be a father and would immediately take you under his wing.

Comparing to other slashers, you could almost call him a pacifist. He would never start a fight. Never.

He would teach you and give you a proper education. He would also take care of you and give you the affection you need.

And if you get hurt ?

He’d protect you—no matter the cost.

Father Paul *covered in blood and crying* : "No…No no no…Not again. Please. Not again."

Patrick Bateman:

Patrick Bateman would teach you how to kill and get away with murder. He is a Beta himself, but always hated that title because he always saw himself as an Alpha.

He’d explain to you the human anatomy and how to chop off a body in the most efficient and effective way possible.

He would also teach you the ways of society and bureaucracy like no one else could. Patrick is very observant and dangerous. He has no empathy.

Meaning: Make sure he KEEPS liking you.

Patrick *looking at you and wondering if having a kid is worth it and how he’d do it to get rid of you before smiling and locking the thought into a very far away box at the back of his mind*

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an Omega. He would fight tooth and nail to protect you.

He’d also let you braid his hair and you’d draw together or do some fun artsy activities.

He’d show you how to do pottery and play with clay to make animal shapes or even human-like.

But, Vincent is in therapy and is being closely monitored and watched so he wouldn’t show you how to make wax people.

He would also be very affectionate with you and give you a lot of hugs, unlike Bo who would just pat your head and call it a day.

Jack Torrance:

"Let’s get takeout." Jack’s favourite sentence.

Jack would be a very lazy and chill kinda dad for a beta. He would take you to movies or read you a book.

He also loves food so…he’d get you pizza or nachos and you’d just settle on the couch with him and do nothing—just chilling.

He’d be the dad you go to when you don’t wanna do anything and you’re tired. He’d also be the type to live in his pajamas and tell you that it’s too early at 1pm.

You would then just sleep or he’d tell you things about his old life if he’s up for it.

He would protect you if you are in danger, but he would make sure that you don’t get into trouble in the first place cause you can’t do no wrong when you’re chilling all day…

[thund3rthighs]

“You Missed The Point By Idolizing Them”

[the-hopeless-fanboy]

tag game: post images of some of you’re “they’re just like me” characters

Thank you for the tag @emeraldoo

The girls who get it, get it

I tag @venuslovesfrogs @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @riddlekid @val-el @crypticpuffin

[i-am-trans-gwender]

If Greg Heffley had Carrie White's powers he would make Carrie look like Matilda by comparison. Heck Greg would make Anthony Fremont look like a well adjusted kid If he had powers. Greg Heffley is already going to grow up into a combination of Arthur Fleck/Joker, Jack Torrance and Patrick Bateman. Imagine what he would do with powers.

[christiangeistdorfer]

PATRICK DEPILLAR, 1980

[hotluncheddie]

Luck o' the Irish

written for the May @steddiemicrofic prompt 'top' !

wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: Modern AU, Meetcute, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Platonic Hellcheer, Buckingham, Chubby Steve Harrington (as always)

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

‘Stupid water looks gross green.’ Eddie mumbles to himself, leaning on the railing and looking down at the dyed Chicago river.

Someone knocks into him, his beer sloshing onto his hand and all he gets is a distant ‘sorry dude’ thrown his way.

The only reason he’s here is Chrissy’s determination to end his dry spell, which somehow means making him hang out at overcrowded bars on St Patrick’s day. 

He kind of hates it. But he love her, even if hungover Chrissy is like living with a troll... He should ask her if she knows any riddles. 

He giggles to himself and downs the rest of his beer. Gripping the railing more tightly as he sways a little. Maybe he needs a water.

‘Eddie!’ Chrissy squeals, shoving back over to him through the crowd. ‘Look! I made friends! They escaped from Hawkins too!’ She lunges at him, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and squeezing. 

Chrissy lets go to hook elbows with a tall, freckled girl wearing a forest green button up and slacks. Totally Chrissy’s type. Soft butch, cute. 

‘Hi.’ Eddie waves, giving Chris a look and smiling as the girl keeps glancing sideways at her, like she can’t believe her luck. 

Eddie likes her, he decides. 

‘Eddie this is Robin and, oh, where’d your friend go?’ Chrissy asks, straining her neck and leaning more heavily into the girls side. Freckle girl, Robin, goes even redder. Yeah, Eddie likes her. 

‘Hey.’ Someone says from Eddie’s left. He turns and finds a guy standing next to him, with big soft eyes and green glitter on his cheeks, a green bandana tied around his neck, highlighting his soft jaw. White tank and tight blue jean shorts showing off the hairy chub of his waist and thighs… He’s gorgeous. 

‘Oh! Here’s Steve.’ Chrissy chirps. ‘Robs friend! From Hawkins! Steve this is my friend Eddie, the one I was telling you about.’ Her eyes on Eddie sharp, because she knows, knows Steve is exactly his type.

‘To-top o’ the mornin’ to ya.’ Eddie stammers.

Steve raises an eyebrow. Crossing his arms and Eddie is so not distracted by the way his pecs flex, little peak of cleavage visible at his neckline, flecks of glitter shimmering in his chest hair. 

Eddie snaps his eyes back up.

‘Are you Irish?’ Steve asks.

‘…no.’ 

‘Oh.’ He pouts. ‘Think I can still kiss you later though?’ His finger tracing the neckline of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s Chrissy's from last year, faded green with “kiss me I’m Irish” stretched across his chest.  

Eddie gulps, cheeks going hot, but he manages to nod. 

A smile stretches across Steve’s face, stars shining in his eyes. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky.’ He murmurs, cocking his head to the side. 

‘Let's do shots.’ Chrissy declares, wicked grin on her face and she starts walking to the next bar over, pulling Robin with her. 

Eddie thinks again, vaguely, about water. 

But then he’s distracted by Steve’s fingers lacing with his own, soft smile on his face as he pulls Eddie along with him.  

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

Permanent Tag List (message to be added) : @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you post more for conrad fisher?

Request: Snow on the beach for Conrad pls?

Who has watched the first three episodes? I was waiting and refreshing my tv until it was time XD Also, don't forget to get on my taglists to get notified when I post something new! I have a lot of Conrad and Jeremiah in my draft

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Per Susannah’s wish, you all came down to Cousins to celebrate her last thanksgiving. The emotions were heavy, but Susannah wouldn’t allow anyone to be sad — not even for one second. She knew the tears and sorrowful faces would take over very soon, so she wanted to have one last happy celebration with everyone at the beach house. 

Being at the Fishers’ beach house outside of summer felt strange. The pool was a nasty green shade and the sun wasn’t shining all over the back porch. A thicker coat was shielding you from the late November chill, along with a scarf you had crocheted yourself. Steven loved to tease you and call you a grandma for crocheting, but he was always appreciative when you would make something for him. 

After dinner, Conrad and you went down to the beach. Unlike the last time, a pair of boots and a coat replaced your summer attires. 

You’ve always loved the beach — especially this beach.

The beach you grew up running to the water with Jeremiah, Steven, Conrad and Belly every summer, with your mother reminding you to put sunscreen on every few hours so you wouldn’t end up looking like a lobster. The beach Conrad taught you how to surf even if you were terrible at it. The beach you and Jeremiah buried Belly in the sand one summer. The beach you went to at night when you couldn’t sleep or had too much on your mind. The beach you and Conrad shared your first kiss. 

‘’It’s snowing,’’ Conrad pointed out, drawing your attention and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at the evening sky, seeing a spectacle of white flecks of snow coming down with no sound and all around. It was beautiful, yet felt impossible. Just like Conrad wanting you. A smile curled on your lips, marveling at the sight. ‘’It's weird but so beautiful at the same time.’’ 

Conrad came behind you, his arms circling you in his hold. A soft hum of agreement escaped his lips, perfectly attuned to the moment. You leaned back against him, both of you standing in awe of the snowfall. 

To immortalize the moment, you pulled out your phone and Conrad kissed your cheek as you snapped a picture. The snow was only slightly visible on the screen, but you knew it was there. Maybe you’ll add it to your Thanksgiving carousel on Instagram…or maybe you’ll keep it to yourself. 

Despite bundling up in additional layers, the crispness of the air still penetrated through your clothes, reminding you of the chill that accompanied the enchanting scene. You shivered, the night air slowly icing your fingers. Gloves felt too much, but now you were regretting not taking some with you to Cousins.

‘’You cold?’’ Conrad asked, taking your hands in his to warm them. Though his hands were slightly chilled as well, they felt warm over yours. ‘’Here. I’ll warm you up.’’ 

Appreciating his thoughtful gesture, you smiled up at him, the heat transferring from his palms to yours. 

You long felt guilty for taking something — someone — your sister had always wanted, but Belly was not blind. She saw the way Conrad looked at you, the smiles he kept just for you, and all the attention he always gave you. How he made you his priority — always. She wanted someone to love her like that. Someone who was cold-hearted with everybody else, but never with her. Someone who showed his feelings through small gestures and soft spoken confessions instead of going all Patrick Verona during his promposal to Kat.

‘’I love you, Conrad Fisher,’’ you whispered to him, enveloped by the quiet intimacy of the beach. ‘’You're the best thing that's ever been mine.’’ 

As the words left your lips, Conrad's curled into a soft smile. They were rare these days, but there was always one for you, even if it was small.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti

[bookshelf-dust]

I'M HERE TO REQUEST AGAIN

this is going to be a bit angsty, but it's hurt/comfort. basically while he's in class some guys make fun of him by saying he's way out of reader's league and he gets self-conscious. reader and the Hellfire table notices he's not talking much at lunch so reader goes to talk to him (established relationship)

hope this wasn't too specific!<33 (don't worry about rushing the writing, enjoy the process!!)

glittery curls

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 1,426

warnings: swearing, patrick and jason’s goons being assholes, angst, comfort, fluff

a/n: hi sweetheart! thank you for requesting. i’m so sorry it took me a little while and i hope that’s okay! this is a sweet idea and please don’t worry about it being too specific—it’s perfect like always! and thank you for being sweet about not rushing. i appreciate that more than you know <3

————

“Bend down a little, Gare.”

“Whatever you say, your highness.”

He has glitter in his hair. The girls had a project due, and Gareth, being the loving brother that he is, offered his services. You’ve been picking chunks and flecks of glitter out of his hair for three days. He claims to have washed it since, too.

He bends a little at the waist so that you can see his hair more clearly. You use your nails to grab at a piece of purple glitter from the roots of his hair.

“Kiss my ass, Emerson.”

He pinches your side at that remark and you let out a small squeal before presenting the glitter to him, a victorious look on your face. Gareth quirks a brow, examining the intruder, and then you wipe your finger off on his shirt before turning to go to your next class.

He catches your hand before you get too far. “Hey, hey, hey, where’s my kiss?”

Gareth “demands goodbye kisses” Emerson.

You pretend to be annoyed at the premise, and he pouts so hard you bring both hands to his face, apologizing repeatedly.

“Here, here!” You kiss him, short and sweet (you are in school, after all). He tastes like strawberries. You wonder if he had some for breakfast.

“Thank you,” he says. You plant another on his nose before leaving him to it.

Gareth adjusts the bag on his shoulder and turns to head into his classroom.

“That’s just sad, man.”

Gareth wouldn’t have thought anyone was talking to him if it weren’t for the closeness of the voice. He turns his head, finding Patrick staring at him. Andy and Jason linger further behind.

“I’m sorry?” Gareth’s tone changes into something much more serious, deeper even, than what he’d been using with you.

“You, dude. You’re totally head over heels for them, and they’re way out of your league.”

Patrick turns to watch you at the very end of the hallway, where you turn a corner and then you’re out of sight. He shakes his head. “It’s just depressing, man.”

Gareth feels his face warming. “What are you talking about, McKinney?”

Patrick laughs, and it doesn’t do anything but heighten Gareth’s frustration. He doesn’t understand where this is coming from.

“You and them,” Patrick says, nodding towards where you’d walked away. “You looked lovesick, and that’s just weird to me because the two of you make absolutely no sense.” Andy chuckles, and Gareth shoots him a look. He quiets.

“They’re pretty damn smart, and could be friends with anyone they want, but pick you and your group of freaks? Yeah, that just doesn’t check out, man. It’s probably best if you save yourself the trouble and dump ‘em now. That way you won’t have to deal with it when they realize the truth.”

Gareth decides he’s had enough of this shit. “Fuck you, man. Why don’t you mind your own business? Last time I checked, your last girlfriend cheated on you with Andy, so I really don’t think you have any reason to be giving me relationship advice.”

He pushes past the other boys and into the classroom, heading straight for his seat in the back against the wall.

Gareth barely hears a word of the lecture he’s supposed to be paying attention to. He’s amazed that he even manages to take notes.

Patrick’s comments race through his mind, over and over again. They pick at his every insecurity, his every vulnerability.

What if he’s right? You’re fucking insanely smart, Gareth thinks. You could be with anyone you wanted, and he knows that. Up until that conversation, Gareth thought your choosing him had meant something. That he was special. That his friends were special, and they were all worth more than whatever the people at school thought.

Now he’s not so sure.

He tries to distract himself from his buzzing mind by paying extra attention in his classes. It only partially works. All he can think about is that maybe you really are way out of his league.

Gareth gets to the Hellfire table at lunch before you do. He sits down beside Jeff, who’s too busy arguing with Mike about something to notice that something’s wrong.

You, however, clock it before you even take your seat. His arms are crossed and he’s bouncing his knee. He’s not laughing or splitting a cheese stick with Dustin. Something’s wrong with your boy.

Eddie seems to have noticed it too. He hasn’t sat yet, but he’s walking to the table just as you are, and shoots you a look over Gareth’s head. One that says, you seein’ this? You nod.

Eddie’s known Gareth long enough to know that when he gets quiet, he’s frustrated. Gareth being quiet is never a good thing. When he’s sad, he talks about it, and he might be a bit downcast, but he’s still Gareth.

Eddie has witnessed many a Gareth outburst, and they aren’t usually pretty. He knows you can handle it though. You’re exceptionally good at calming him down.

You slide into your seat, and Gareth doesn’t even look at you. You decide to take it easy.

You rub your thumb across the bare expanse of arm under his sleeve. That gets his attention. He turns to look at you. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” You keep rubbing his arm. “You okay?”

Gareth uncrosses his arms and sits up in his chair. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Emerson,” you say, keeping your voice low as to not cause a scene. He turns his head to look at you. You only use his last name when he’s being a pain in the ass. The thing is, Gareth doesn’t really give a shit if he’s being an ass right now.

He doesn’t feel like arguing with you. He’s too upset. Gareth is quiet for the rest of lunch, and he avoids you the rest of the day. It’s not until you drive over to his house after school that you get a chance to ask him what’s wrong.

He lets you in and leads you to his room without a word. “Gareth,” you start, “will you please tell me what’s wrong? I really don’t like seeing you like this.”

He tosses his head back, exasperated. “And you think I like feeling like this?”

“I know you don’t Gare, but I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Gareth takes one look at you, giving your most pleading and sincere eyes, and he’s done for. He runs both of his hands down his face and sits on the edge of his bed.

“After you went to class this morning? Patrick showed up and told me that the two of us being together doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” You ask, quickly becoming upset.

“He said that you’re way out of my league and too good for me and that someday you’re going to realize that I’m a piece of shit and you shouldn’t have chosen me.”

You realize his eyes are glossy and you rush to crouch in front of him, hands on his forearms. They’re warm under the tips of your fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t listen to any of his shit okay?”

“Stop,” Gareth says.

“What do you mean?” You don’t understand.

“I mean that I’m in love with you and they’re telling me that this is bullshit, that you don’t care and that you’re just going to leave me at some point and so I’m upset—”

“What?” You cut him off.

“Huh?” Gareth doesn’t realize what he says for a second. “Shit.”

You stare up at him.

“I’ve never said that before,” he tells you.

“No,” you shake your head. That knocked the breath right out of you. “But before you say anything else, I am not going to just up and leave you or something, Gareth. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I chose you because you’re the best boy in the world. And because I love you, too.”

The boy in question smiles at you.

“You love me too?” He asks shyly.

You bring a hand to his cheek, and he leans into the touch.

“Yeah. And it’s okay to be upset, Gare, because he was being an asshole, but I would never leave you, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. Gareth wraps his arms around you and practically scoops you up.

“Sweetheart,” you say after a moment, pulling away from him. He looks at you, confused.

“You’ve still got glitter in your hair.”

He drops his head to your shoulder. “Dammit.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[ereardon]

My Girl [Chapter 13][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3.2K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, arguing, angst, alcohol

Series masterlist here

Your flight was leaving in three days. You had to tell him. 

“Jake?” 

He looked up from where he was stirring pancake batter on the counter, flecks of flour dusting his pajama top. You thought back to your first date at the coffee shop, and how frazzled he had been because he was late. It seemed like eons ago. You had been different people back then. 

Perhaps it had been more simple. 

“Yeah baby,” he said, “what’s going on?” 

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, recrossing your legs on the barstool. Ellie was upstairs in her room, fast asleep. Jake’s eyes roamed over your face, a frown appearing as he took in how anxious you were. 

“Nat? What’s wrong?” He dropped the whisk and bowl on the counter, stepping to the left and coming to stand on the other side of the kitchen island, his hands reaching across the granite top. 

You took a deep breath and lifted your gaze to his. He deserved to hear it all. “I have to go to New York on Tuesday. For work.” 

“Oh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s it?” 

You shook your head. 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“A week, maybe more,” you said and you watched Jake’s face fall, opening a crater in your abdomen, all of your hopes and dreams quickly falling into that black abyss. 

“A week is nothing, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands in his. “You’ll be back sooner than you realize.” 

“It’s not just that,” you said and your fingers tightened in Jake’s grip as he clamped down. “My boss, Patrick, asked me to lead a due diligence team on our capital markets arm as we expand from the New York practice out here to San Diego.” 

“Natalie,” Jake whispered, his face glowing. “That’s amazing! I am so proud of you.” 

You tried to choke back the tears that were threatening a flood. “Thank you.” 

“Why don’t you look happy?” he asked tentatively. 

“In order to do that, I have to be in New York one or two weeks a month,” you said and the realization began to settle on Jake. You felt his hand go limp in yours. 

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” you said, your voice beginning to wobble. “At least this quarter. Could be longer. Could be a whole year.” 

Jake sucked in a breath and you looked up at him through the tears that had started to flood your lash line. “Oh, honey,” he said, walking around the granite island and pulling you into his arms, your face pressed flat against his broad chest, his fingers brushing through your tangled bedhead. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” 

After a moment, you pulled away, wiping haphazardly at the tears staining your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

Jake chuckled and shook his head. “For what? Being successful at work? God, you have nothing to apologize for, baby. You’re a star. A fucking rockstar.” 

“I know you’re looking for someone who can be here for you—” you started and Jake cut you off. 

“Nat,” he murmured and his tone was deep. Solem. “I would never tell you that my needs are more important than yours. This is your career. This is the culmination of everything you’ve worked for. I’m not going to stand in your way.” He took your hands in his and smiled. “We’ll be here when you’re done. Don’t worry about me and Ellie. We’ll be here waiting for you, honey. I promise.” 

Jake took your face in his hands. He was tender and sweet and you knew he meant what he was saying. 

Or at least he thought he did. Maybe he didn’t realize that what he was saying was a direct conflict to what he truly wanted. “Nat, I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” you whispered hoarsely. 

Jake pulled you to standing, one hand across your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head. His green eyes were soft, small wrinkles forming around the corners as his mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “I’m proud of you, honey. We’re only ever just a phone call away.” 

You were afraid to open your mouth, for fear that all that would come out would be sobs. So instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closely. Felt the warmth of his hands on your waist, the tenderness of his lips, the way his body molded into yours. You savored Jake, committing him to memory. Letting his touches build, praying the memories of his hands on you would be enough to tattoo them in your mind. So that when you were gone a part of him was still left on your skin. 

***

“Hey baby.” 

You held a hand up to the glass. The conference room had a clear view facing north, with One World Trade slightly off to the left, the Brooklyn Bridge to your right. Even though it was closing in on midnight and you were running on fumes and stale office coffee, you had to admit how beautiful the cityscape was. 

“How’s it going?” Jake’s voice practically melted through the phone. He barely slept, something you had learned early on in your relationship, and that made phone calls across the three-hour time zone difference slightly easier to organize. He always made himself available to you if he wasn’t in the air.  

You sighed into the phone. “The same. It’s going to be a long few months. The team here is good, but they’re not happy about the expansion or integration, and there’s a lot of holes to patch before we announce this firm-wide.” 

“If anybody can do it, it’s you,” he said and you smiled, taking a seat in one of the rolling chairs near the large wooden conference table. “How are you, honey?” 

“I’m OK,” you said and it was only a half lie. You were drained and exhausted and you wanted to go back to California. Climb into Jake’s king sized bed and have him cradle you in his strong arms. You wanted to eat donuts with Ellie on the beach and feel the smooth breeze of fresh ocean air in your hair. New York was for some people, but it was not for you. “Tired and missing you, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere. I just can’t believe I had to be here every month for who knows how long. This city is something else.” 

“Bad?” he asked. 

“Just, dirty,” you replied and Jake’s laugh bounced through the receiver. “I literally watched a man throw up on a pile of garbage bags and then just straighten up and keep walking. And everyone around just watched him do it, and then went on their way. It’s insane. I think you could get murdered on the street and nobody would look twice.” 

“Be safe, OK?” There was an urgency in Jake’s voice. Fear. “I worry about you, all alone out there.” 

You laughed. “Jake, I’m twenty-seven-years-old. I can take care of myself, I promise.” 

He paused. “Wait, what do you mean you’re twenty seven?” 

You bit your lip. “My birthday was last week.” 

“Nat!” There was pure shock and hurt in his words. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” you said. “I was going to New York, we were busy. Jake, please, it’s fine.”

You could perfectly picture him shaking his head. “Honey. I wish you woulda told me.”

“I’m sorry.” You practically whispered it. 

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” Jake said softly. “But expect a party when you get home to make up for the fact that I missed my girlfriend’s twenty-seventh birthday party.”

“Jake,” you whined, “please. I hate big parties.” 

“Then just us,” he said. 

“And Ellie.” 

You could practically hear his smile on the other end of the line. “The three of us. We’ll make a day out of it. Do all of your favorite things.” 

“How about Saturday?” you asked. “I’ll be home late Friday night, but I can pop over Saturday morning.” 

“We’ll see you on Saturday, sweetheart,” Jake said softly. “I love you. Now go back to your hotel and get some rest, OK? Text me when you get to your room.” 

“I love you,” you replied. 

“Goodnight princess.” 

***

You didn’t make it home on Friday, or Saturday and when Sunday rolled around, they asked you to stay another week and you had no choice but to accept. 

Jake was understanding when you called him three days in a row with another departure date and another excuse at hand. He was understanding when he had to cancel the special funfetti cake he had made at the local bakery, and when he had to tell Ellie that you wouldn’t be home over the weekend but that he would take her to fly kites on the beach himself on the next warm day. 

Jake was all too understanding when you called him in tears night after night from the stress of the expansion. 

It was once you had been in New York for three weeks straight that his patience began to wear thin. 

“Why don’t we just come out and visit you?” he asked. 

You held the phone to your ear, pacing around the glass wall of the conference room. It was late, most of the team had gone home. You had doordashed a bottle of wine to go with your SUGARFISH bento box that lay half eaten on the shellacked wood table. “I don't know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” There was impatience layered into his tone. “Nat, it’s been almost a month.” 

“I know it has,” you said tiredly. “I’m very aware of how long it’s been Jake.” Your pelvis ached for him and no matter how many times you slipped beneath the covers at night and pressed your hand between your legs nothing could compare to the way Jake made you feel. “It’s just that I don’t even know how much time I’d have to see you guys. It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s that I don’t want you to fly all the way across the country for just a few hours here and there together.”

“But we’d see you a little bit,” he said with exasperation. “That’s better than nothing.”

“Jake, it’s just not a good idea.” In the distance, you could have sworn you saw a light flicker somewhere in the hallway. 

“Jesus, Nat,” Jake sighed. “Fine, forget I asked.” 

“Jake—”

“I have to go,” he interrupted. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

Before you could open your mouth to reply, the line was dead. You turned around, mouth hung open in shock, to see Peter standing at the door of the conference room, a box of cookies in his hands. 

“Is this a bad time?” he asked. 

You shook your head and he stepped inside, putting the box down. Peter Reinhardt was one of the younger associates on the capital markets team in the New York office. Compared to some of the other members of the team, he was shockingly intelligent and capable, something you valued highly in a colleague. 

“Cookie?” He slid the box over to you and you popped open the top, selecting an oatmeal M&M one and biting into it with a sigh. 

“Thanks,” you said, sitting down in the closest seat and crossing your legs. “Why are you still here?” 

He gave you a weak smile. Peter was the embodiment of the New York finance guy: slacks, white button down shirt, company vest with Patagonia branding, beat up Gucci loafers. He slicked his jetblack hair and had pearly white teeth. You had actually watched one of the paralegals trip over herself the other day when he smiled at her in the break room. “Reviewing some of the ops briefs. Those guys really don’t know how to write a contract.” 

You laughed, tossing the rest of the cookie into your mouth. “Tell me about it.” 

Peter fiddled with his hands on the table. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Ops? I’d rather eat my own leg,” you replied glibly. 

He shook his head. “I meant that phone call that I walked in on. Obviously didn’t go like you had hoped.” 

You thought about it for a second. Despite being in New York for almost an entire month, you had yet to really bond with any of your coworkers. Most of them had their own lives and families and friends already, and it didn’t help that you spent most nights in conference room C eating takeout and pouring over legal documents. “I just didn’t expect to be here this long,” you said finally. “I thought it would be a week every month but I’ve been here almost the entire month of April and it’s just, it’s wearing on me.” 

Peter nodded. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing the work of like ten guys so I have to believe that you won't have to be here that much longer.” 

“I wish,” you groaned, leaning one elbow against the table. “My boss in San Diego is kind of a dick. He gave me this position as a test. He thinks I’m going to end up costing the firm maternity pay and he doesn’t want to keep someone that he doesn’t view as a hard worker.”

Peter’s face froze. “I didn’t even realize you were married.”

You shook your head. “Oh, I’m not. He’s just reading between the lines and drawing his own conclusion.” 

“So the person on the phone was …” 

“My partner,” you replied. “His name is Jake. I feel really guilty that I haven’t been able to see him since I got here.” 

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Peter said. “If he understands work pressure.” 

You chuckled. “He’s a Navy fighter pilot, so yes, I think he understands.” 

“Wow.” There was genuine shock in Peter’s voice. “A fighter pilot? He better be hideous to counteract it or else there’s no chance for us other guys.” 

You opened your phone and pulled up a photo of you, Jake and Ellie that had been taken on Valentine’s Day and slid it over to Peter. “Sorry to break it to you,” you murmured. His eyes widened as he took in the photo, and then he squinted. 

“Shit,” he muttered, “you weren’t lying. Who’s the kid?” 

“His daughter, Ellie,” you said, pulling the phone back. “She’s four.” 

“A kid? That’s big,” he said and it was reminiscent of what Rebecca had said the first time you told her about Jake. 

You nodded. “Yeah, but she’s a little peach. She’s the least of my concerns.”

“So you have concerns.” Peter pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and nibbled at one edge. 

“I mean, who doesn’t?” you said and it was freeing to talk to someone about Jake who had no context about anything. Who didn’t know about Lizzie or Margot or your history with Sam. It felt like a fresh start. “I’m eight years younger than him. Sometimes I think it’s fine, and other times it terrifies me. Not the age difference, but just like life. I love Ellie to pieces, but am I ready to be a stepmom? Drive carpool and plan birthday parties and make sure she does her math homework and chaperone sleepovers? Is that really where I want to be at twenty seven? Shouldn’t I be out partying and getting wrinkles that I immediately get botox for when I turn thirty? I still feel like a teenager sometimes, how am I supposed to be somebody’s mom?” You grabbed the bottle of wine and poured more into your glass before pouring another glass for Peter and scooting it over toward him. “What if I go back in a week or two weeks and she’s completely forgotten about me?” 

“Four-year-olds are smarter than that,” he said and you frowned. “I have a nephew,” he replied and you nodded. “Besides, you need to stop asking yourself where you should be right now and just focus on what you want to be doing. If you want to be a stepmom, then do it. If you want to stay up all night and go clubbing, do it. Stop thinking about what other people expect of you or need from you. What do you want?” 

You raised the glass of wine to your lips. When was the last time you let yourself ask that question? 

What did you want? 

***

You were exhausted, still wearing your work shift dress with the sky high pumps, your legs shaking as you knocked quietly on the door. 

After a moment, Jake pulled open the wooden door, surprise splashed across his face. “Honey?” 

He stepped forward and pulled you into his arms in a tight embrace, so tight it felt like your lungs might collapse at the pressure. And when he pulled back, his large, warm hands came out to stroke your cheeks, cradling you as he smiled. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home today,” he whispered and you realized how late it was, and that Ellie was definitely asleep. 

Jake pulled the door closed so the two of you were standing on the porch, your legs still wobbly in the heels. “It was a last minute decision,” you said after a moment. “I have to fly back tomorrow.” 

“Natalie,” he said and there was so much pain laced into that single word. “Baby, really? Can’t you stay just one day at least?”

You pulled back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Jake, I don’t think this is working.” 

He froze. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I’m not what you need,” you said softly. “I’m not here. I know you, Jake. I know what you need from a partner. I know what you deserve. I just don’t think that’s me.” 

Jake’s eyes darted around your face. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m sorry.” It came out strained and thin. 

“Nat, this isn’t funny,” he said and there was realization threaded through his voice. “I’m not laughing.” 

“Jake, it’s not a joke,” you whispered. You reached out to touch his arm and he pulled away instinctively. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.” 

He shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he rasped. “You’re taking the easy way out.”

“Easy?” Your voice was raised, and you stopped for a moment and looked up toward Ellie’s room to make sure you hadn’t disturbed her. The room stayed dark beyond the window. “Fuck, Jake, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. And it’s already so hard. I want what’s best for you, OK?” The tears had started to fall. “That’s not me. Not anymore. Don't you understand? This is killing me, Jake. But I won't be the reason you're not happy."

Jake stepped closer, his green eyes narrowing, his voice low and sharp. "Why do get to tell me what's right for me? You're the woman I love, Natalie. You're my girlfriend."

You shook your head. “Not anymore, Jake. I'm sorry.”

A/N: OK guys — this is it, this is THE breakup. I've had some comments saying there's too much up and down with the two of them, but I do think that's just how relationships go a lot of the time. In this case, this is the breakup for Jake and Nat, so apologies in advance for the angst. Not a huge spoiler but I promise they will get their happy ending!

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[charliedawn]

Another weird request by yours truly!!! How would the slashers react to the nurse dating Anton Chigurh? BUT! The nurse is almost the complete opposite of him. He's an assassin, they're a nurse, they heal people, he kills people. The nurse is bubbly and very sweet while Anton is stone cold with a deep voice. (You know how he is if you've watched the movie). Also, the nurse is smaller compared to him. They go up to a little bit more than halfway up his chest. Even though they're in a relationship, they act like father and child sometimes. Example: While he's out killing people, he got her tickets to the little mermaid or Indiana Jones. THEY SIT ON HIS SHOULDERA FOR FUN, I STAND BY THAT-The nurse sees something shiny and wants it, but he picks them up and places them on a couch.

Anton: No

Nusre: Aww

But don't get me wrong when I say the nurse is sweet, but when it comes to her man's, she will drag a bitch. Example: Someone's flirting with Anton, they run up behind them and start dragging them by their hair until they throw them down a stairwell, not caring if they're alive or not. Another example: They're talking to him up close, and someone bust through the door, and they immediately take his gun from his side and shoots them. After they put the gun back, they say, "I'm sorry, but what were you saying?" I know this is a lot of information to take in, but can you still try and make this one how you did the Henry cavil one, but since Anton's an assassin, they'll think differently.

Anton really didn’t want to get involved with your work, as he never really involved you in his. He liked you innocent and sweet. You were the perfect cover and even though he had never felt real emotion in his life, you were the only person whose death would actually bother him. And when you got together, he knew you were a strange person, but that’s why he knew you would be perfect.

Freddy Krueger:

"YOU ! I know you !"

Freddy was the first to recognise him. They locked eyes and Freddy smiled from ear to ear. He didn’t remember a lot of people’s brains he visited in their sleep. But oh boy did he remember that one.

"I highly doubt that." Anton answered with a raised eyebrow and looked Freddy up and down. Anton then thought he would have surely remembered the little burnt face goblin if he had seen him before.

"Yeah ! You’re that little freak ! Damn. The nightmares you had ! Ah ! Priceless ! You were the talk of the town between us demons !"

Anton’s eyes narrowed as he then said.

"So…you saw me ?"

There was a moment of silence before Freddy grinned.

"Yeah. I saw you. Whatcha gonna do about it, tough guy ?"

There was a silent standoff before you arrived and Anton focused on you…reminding himself to take care of that Freddy guy later.

Arthur:

Arthur had just finished colouring his hair when he heard a knock at his door and when he opened the door—he was surprised to find someone else with you. You introduced Anton to Arthur and they civilly shook hands. But, as they locked eyes—Arthur smiled knowingly. And while you went to make some tea, they started talking. There was a sort of…connection that formed between the two men.

It led to Anton revealing his identity and secret job. To which Arthur didn’t seem surprised.

"You let fate decide their destiny with a coin ?" Arthur asked—curious. "Isn’t it rather comical to let fate decide of a man’s death instead of yourself ?"

Anton smiled.

"And you play with their lives. I wonder. Does that make you the best psychopath out of both of us ?"

Arthur shrugged.

"You take pleasure in their suffering. I do not. I consider myself a part of them."

Anton shook his head.

"Wrong. WE are not them. WE will never be. And I do not kill only for pleasure. I kill because…It is what I am best at. You consider it healing, I consider it a sport."

Arthur chuckled.

"And yet, you let Y/N live…Tell me. Did the coin also decide of her fate ? Or did you ?"

They stayed silent for a moment before you brought back tea.

Jason Voorhees:

At lunch time, Anton sat next to Jason. Jason didn’t really look at him or acknowledge him at first. He was really into his lunch, but then Anton asked:

"Good ?"

Jason froze. He then looked at Anton with a surprised expression. Was he talking to him ? He then straightened up and nodded. Anton smiled.

"So…Y/N told me you killed 152 people ? Impressive."

Jason blinked twice. Anton had a rather creepy smile on his face. Of morbid fascination. Jason didn’t know what to answer. He then replied in sign language.

Who. Are. You.

You were about to translate when Anton smirked and surprised everyone when he replied in perfect sign language.

Anton. Y/N’s boyfriend.

Jason’s eyes widened when he looked at you—as if looking for confirmation, which you gave. Jason’s eyes returned to Anton who was still staring at him unblinkingly—making Jason uncomfortable. The rest of the dinner went by very slowly as Jason could feel Anton’s eyes on him all along.

Lunch couldn’t end any sooner. He was more than happy to return to his room afterwards and try to forget that rather awkward moment.

Patrick Bateman:

As a fellow psychopath, Patrick could tell right away that he was addressing a fellow faker. However, unlike what most people would expect, psychopaths do not always get along because even though they have the same ‘pathology’, psychopaths cannot read each other well. They are masters at copying others’ emotions and interpret them…But how can they translate each other’s emotions when they neither have them ? It would end in a VERY awkward conversation.

Anton: "…"

Patrick: "…"

Y/N: "Hum…so Patrick, I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Anton."

Patrick *plasters a fake smile on his face and reaches out to shake his hand* : "Pleasure." (Absolutely doesn’t mean it.)

Anton: "Same." (Absolutely doesn’t mean it either.)

However, the moment you are out of the room ? All forms of politeness would simply vanish between the two…

Patrick: "…Why do you put up with them ? What is the point of this relationship ? For what purpose ?"

Anton: "…None of that concerns you."

Patrick: "You are right. It doesn’t concern me. At all. But, I am curious."

Anton: "I see. Then I will answer you by telling you that I do not know myself and that one day, I just realised that their life had become…not so unimportant to me."

And that was how Anton explained your relationship and Patrick huffed.

"…You do not love them."

To which Anton replied truthfully.

"Perhaps not. But their existence has grown to mean something for me. And that is more than I thought possible…"

Bo:

Bo: "Hey, Y/N. Who’s yer friend ?"

You: "My boyfriend ! Anton."

Bo *looks at Anton* : "Boyfriend…You don’t say…"

They both stared at each other before Bo smirked.

Bo *smirks and shakes his hand* : "Welcome then, Anton."

Anton shook his hand, but there was a clear tension there. When you left to keep an eye on the other slashers, Bo suddenly yanked Anton by the arm.

"Listen here, bucko. I know a killer’s eyes when I fuckin’ see one. And if ya ever so much as lay a single finger on that sweetheart, am gonna hang you by the intestines at the front gate, ya got me ?"

Anton had a surprising reaction. He smiled. He the caught Bo’s hands and forced them off him.

"You think I am scared of you ? Think again. And next time you touch me ? It will be the last time."

The Penny Brothers:

Pennywise is a BIG fan of Anton. Pennywise doesn’t like emotions and besides, what is there to guilt trip when the man is guiltless ? Anton would fear neither Pennywise or Penny, which means both clowns wouldn’t see him as food. Penny found him boring, but Pennywise was actually unusually chatty cause BOY…that brain’s got a whole lot of blood and gore.

Pennywise *smirks*: "So much blood ! So much violence ! Ahahah ! I like you."

Penny would just be confused. It isn’t often he has to deal with emotionless people. He doesn’t like it.

Norman Bates:

Norman wasn’t thrilled. That’s for sure.

He knew from the start that Anton wasn’t good enough for you. (No one is really.) He glared at Anton and refused to shake his hand—which is rather rare for Norman who is usually very polite.

Once you were out of the room, he glared at Anton once more and seethed.

"If you know what is good for you…You will stay away from them."

To which, Anton only smiled and replied.

"Funny how you think…you have any power over them or me. You may used to have control, but they are mine now. And that…that will remain so, Mr. Bates."

Norman gritted his teeth and his hand twitched. How dared that man…! But before he could reply, you came back…

"Hey ! Everything’s fine ?"

Both nodded.

Both smiled.

Both lied.

Freddy Krueger (A continuation) :

Freddy grinned before looking at Anton as you were about to leave. He cackled.

"No offense, nurse Y/N. But you have SHITTY taste."

You both turned towards Freddy. Before Anton could say anything, your smile had turned into a scowl and you glared at Freddy.

"What did you just say, Freddy ?"

Freddy—oblivious to the danger planning in the air—dug his grave deeper. He snickered.

"I mean…I get it that he is a pretty impressive guy. He is one hell of a psychopath. But, did you see that haircut ? I wouldn’t be caught dead with that thing. His hairdresser must be blind and…"

Anton didn’t get mad or annoyed by the rude comment. But, he smirked and took a step back—waiting for what he knew was coming. You didn’t care about the patients being rude with you, but with your boyfriend ? That was crossing a line.

You jumped on Freddy and started hitting him. You were about to rip his eyes out when Anton wordlessly got you off Freddy and carried you over his shoulder.

"Home ?"

You immediately relaxed and nodded.

"Home."

[keinbutterdieb]

Folge 1062 Ohh, geht es jetzt mit Neslon los? Annika ahnt wohl was. Ava und Noah können sich nicht entscheiden und einigen, was sie fürs Modul machen sollen. "Schlag du was vor. Nicht deine Stärke?" "Kann man eigentlich noch Partner oder Partnerin tauschen?" "Schön wär's." "Mit mir will eh niemand tauschen." "Sagt der Richtige." "Es reicht!" Joel hat genug. 😁 Und er will das Problem mit den beiden jetzt in die Hand nehmen. "Ich glaube, Nesrin ist mir irgendwie die ganze Zeit vor die Kamera gelaufen." Jaaaa, klar! Badu-Erwähnung. Annika hat Marlon durchschaut!! "Jetzt lass dich einfach in Noahs Arme fallen." "Vergiss es." "Das ist basic Teambildung." "Das ist lebensgefährlich." 😁 Joel ist mutig. "Ich will da nicht hinsehen." "Ich schaff das." "Du schaffst es nicht mal, dein Essen aufzufangen." 🤣 "Du hast da nen Fleck." "Echt?" Und dann lässt er Joel einfach fallen. 😭 "Alles okay?" "Ja, alles super." Ob Joel in diesem Moment denkt, dass es jetzt endgültig reicht und eine "radikale" Idee wie mit dem Keller hermuss?" 😁 "Es gibt keine hoffnungslosen Fälle, es gibt nur Herausforderungen." "Was ist los? Ich hab heute herausgefunden, dass ich wahrscheinlich verliebt bin." Aw, Marlon. "Ich war noch nie verliebt. Ich hab Angst, dass ich irgendwas falsch mache." Er sagt ja teilweise fast das Gleiche wie Noah später. Kellerszene my beloved!! ❤️❤️ "Herzlich willkommen!" Und jetzt sind sie eingesperrt. "Joel, hörst du uns?" "Ja!" 😁 "Joel?" "Ja?" "Bist du vollkommen durchgeknallt?" Für Noah-Verhältnisse finde ich das eigentlich harmlos. 🤣 Aw, Marlon!! "Okay, anders. Magst du Eis?" "Klar." "Willst du eins essen?" "Heute?" Er nickt hoffnungsvoll. "Ich muss noch mit Simon das Referat in Chemie machen." "Und morgen?" "Vielleicht nach dem Referat? Aber ich kann's dir echt nicht garantieren." "Okay." 🥺 "Vielleicht klappt's ja doch noch." "Ja. Kein Problem." Aww! Ich liebe alles an den Kellerszenen. "Ich lass dich nicht fallen. Ich will hier raus." Und jetzt haben sie den Umschlag. Die Szene mit Marlon und Joel ist auch Gold. "Hast du da jemanden eingesperrt?" "Ja! Ich hab da Ava und Noah eingesperrt." 🤣 "Marlon, nein, natürlich nicht, was denkst du denn?" iodidjiekhdjei "Falls ihr Durst kriegt, ich hab Pastinakensaft in die Ecke gestellt." "Familie, Freunde, Ängste. Geschäftsidee?" "Der letzte Punkt ist mir da so reingerutscht." 😁 Noah sortiert diesen Zettel aus, hehe. "Ich aufs Internat, meine komplette Welt weg." 😢 "Tut mir leid. Freunde?" "Das hat gedauert. ich mein, es hat gedauert, bis ich kapiert hab, dass ich hier nen Freund hab." 😭❤️ Mich killt hier eigentlich jeder Satz. "Und du fühlst nicht dasselbe für ihn?" "Keine Ahnung! Das ging alles viel zu schnell. Ich wollte nicht, dass er geht. Ich hab-" "Angst?" "Mann, ich hab so was noch nie gemacht. Ich hab mich noch nie verliebt. Keine Ahnung." kdkjrehhfdjkfhndrjhdnrjfkd. 😭❤️ Er hat nicht Nein gesagt. Und seine Stimme ist so leise und sanft. 🥺 "Es ist schon alles kaputt. Colin ist wegen mir gegangen. Ich hab ihm noch nicht mal Tschüss gesagt. Dabei bedeutet er mir ... viel." 😭❤️ Ich liebe es sehr, wie Noah sich gegenüber Ava öffnet, und ein bisschen berührender finde ich es noch, wenn Ava sich öffnet. 😭❤️ Es tut so weh, was sie von Patrick erzählt. "Tanzen ist was Persönliches für mich. In solchen Momenten will ich nicht bewertet werden. Nur von mir." Das fühle ich. ❤️ "Ich war ihm ... Ich war ihm egal." Am Ende bricht ihre Stimme etwas. 😭😭😭 "Wir finden was anderes für das Modul. Alles außer Tanzen." NOAH!! 😭😭❤️❤️❤️ Wie ich es liebe, wenn er das sagt. "Ich bin so stolz auf mich." Zurecht, Joel! 😁 Aw, Marlon! "Trau dich." Und Ava traut sich und Noah fängt sie auf. 😭❤️ Aw, oh no, Marlon und Nesrin! Noah ist so mutig und ruft Colin an und traut sich einfach nicht, was zu sagen. 😭 Er hätte dir nicht den Kopf abgerissen, Noah, versprochen! Wahrscheinlich wurde seine Angst zu groß, als er Colins Stimme gehört hat. Ganz weit oben bei meinen Lieblingsfolgen.

[buscemifan]

sorry about all the ones i inevitably forgot. feel free to elaborate in the tags about your choice

[pluvillion]

serial killer - ghost x soap AU

the first time, it's an accident. the second time, it's a coincidence. the fifth time, it's a problem. the tenth time, it's an addiction. the thirteenth time, they're looking for him. the twentieth time, simon found johnny.

-

warning:

mentions of gore

blood

death

body horror

killing

stalking

kidnapping

-

note: some angst to fluff for y'all! this was, somewhat, inspired by Patrick Bateman. i really wanted to expand the theory of what ghost could do if he uses his abilities for something horrible (like he does in the games, but for a completely opposite motive).

i never realized how difficult it is to write two males in one sentence while making it cohesive on who's who. i hope i made it clear and there's no confusion.

-

the first time, it’s an accident.

simon underestimates his strength, the alcohol buzzing through his body, the recklessness of his actions — a crack as a skull smashes against a brick wall after a punch that was a little too well-placed, a body slumping onto the floor, limp and unmoving, eyes unseeing and staring back up at him.

he throws up and it’s not because of the mass consumption of alcohol that he drank earlier that night.

a body is left to rot in a dumpster to be discovered a few days later and a shaken boy wobbles back home - the instability of his steps half due to the alcohol and half due to shock.

it was just an accident.

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the second time, it’s a coincidence.

a boy who pushed him too far - insulted him one too many times.

he was tired of being knocked down, falling to the floor, and staying there.

he doesn’t stop after the other boy is bloody and moaning beneath him; he doesn’t even register the thought of mercy as he continues to slam his fist on the other guy’s face.

his attacker stops moving - no more insults, not for a while now - and his knuckles are bruised and his lip is cut from a punch he didn’t dodge fast enough. his chest is heaving, panting heavily; trying to gather himself as he stands up again - chest shaking and his mop of blonde hair messier than usual.

it was just a coincidence that he lost control again, that he couldn’t curb the adrenaline rushing through his body after he threw his first punch… but this time, he didn’t have the alcohol buzzing through his veins to blame.

it’s just a coincidence.

however, he can’t deny he likes the blood that flecks his bruised hands and how the red is spotting his pale skin.

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the fifth time, it’s a problem.

it’s not normal and it’s not natural to be doing what he did.

picking fights for a boy his age was normal - burying his opponents in the dead of the night was not.

he can’t help but look for trouble, to smile at the face of his next fighter - victim - and to get off the high of the blood that begins to taint his skin; the adrenaline that rushes through his own blood when he sees the other person fall.

his heart beats erratically while the others stop.

it’s a problem when he doesn’t feel any remorse when he doesn’t feel anything in general. when the only time he feels something remotely close to living is when he’s taking another’s life.

he packs up his bags and he moves from one play to another before suspicion arises; disappearing into the night whenever he sees fit, a lingering shadow, a dark smudge in the backend streets that people look over their shoulder twice when they’re walking by.

by the time he’s seen five pairs of eyes go dim, and five different blood types staining his skin, it’s a problem.

and he doesn’t want to find a solution.

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the tenth time, it’s an addiction.

he can’t help but see the world in black, white, and red; in fragile skeleton bones, lifeless eyes, and red that gushes from the wounds he makes. it’s all he sees.

when he’s talking and observing, he doesn’t see the people; he sees their beautiful, fragile bodies... so easily broken... an art.

he finds that even if he beats them to a pulp or slices them into pieces, there’s a beauty in how the human body breaks; in the rivulets of blood cascading into a pool at his feet, bruises that bloom like verdanas at his touch, and the jagged splinter of bones as they broke beneath his hands.

boys and girls his age, men and women older than him - he finds it fascinating how they’re all the same on the inside.

but he makes them different, he makes them special. he paints them. he destroys them in different methods. he’s the one who elicits different melodies of pain, pleading, and tears from them.

they’re all just skin, bones, flesh, blood, and tears, but he makes them all a masterpiece. it’s an art and he’s the artist.

he can’t get enough of it.

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the thirteenth time, they’re looking for him.

they start to realize that these bodies are being left behind by one person regardless of their various difference in the masterpieces he’s left them as.

a part of him is glad they’re noticing - in his twisted mind, they’re just admiring his work. they’re playing cat and mouse and he’s the monster who’s always three steps ahead. he’s already long gone by the time they find the bodies - he’s learning as he goes, he growing as he continues - in his art, in his craft in his skill —

in his madness.

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the twentieth time, simon notices him.

maybe it was just the wrong place at the wrong time; perhaps he was out a little too late one night or perhaps he crossed paths in the early morning before school, but he noticed him and he couldn’t his eyes off of him.

he thought he was beautiful.

his mohawk neatly styled, his eyes glimmering as he read the book in his hands; how his steps skipped lightly when his favourite song came on shuffle, how his muscles flexed as he snuggled in his sweatshirt when a cool breeze blew by.

simon watched him intently and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment too long, to echo his footsteps behind him, a safe distance away.

he might’ve been beautiful to simon, but all he saw was the perfect canvas for his next masterpiece.

────────────

johnny never noticed him.

…or maybe he did - maybe he flashed a smile at him when he was at the library, or waiting in line at a store or a restaurant. maybe a brief thought of how there was a cute boy with messy blonde hair and a charming half-grin flitted through his mind for a fraction of a second, but his brain would be preoccupied with something else in a matter of moments and simon would soon dissolve from his thoughts.

he’d never notice how simon’s hazel eyes lingered on him for longer than normal, or how simon would be in the background of his day - waiting at the bus stop across the street from him or sitting in the far end of the restaurant or strolling through the park across from his school.

johnny was naive and simon was skilled. some might’ve said he was a hunter while he was his choice of prey.

but in simon’s eyes, he was merely the artist and johnny was his new canvas.

────────────

simon found johnny.

he found him behind his window one night, closing the curtains before turning off his lights.

he found him in his classroom, staring absentmindedly out the window as he twirled his pencil between his fingers.

he found him like he found the others before him; he found his name, his birthday, his schedule, and his address, and he found all there was to find about him.

but unlike the others, he found himself discovering how johnny had ten different laughs and eight different smiles - he finds them but they’re not for him, they’ll never be for him - and he found himself musing over johnny’s sparkling eyes watching the autumn leaves and he finds himself wondering how his name would sound with his voice.

he’s lonely and he’s cold but he can’t help but feel a little less alone when he’s with him, even if he’s not with him.

he calls johnny’s phone and he doesn’t say a word; just listens to his voice before he hangs up, thinking nothing of the blank call while all simon thinks of is him and his beautiful voice.

it doesn’t matter. simon will be able to make him say anything he wants him to say in no time, his eyes looking at him and only at him forever, glassy and empty but he could still paint a spark in them if he really wanted to.

johnny might have ten different laughs and eight different smiles, but simon’s dimpled grin - twisted and too sharp to be friendly - will be the last thing he’ll ever see, and simon will make sure of that.

────────────

simon steals johnny in the middle of the night.

johnny tries to scream but simon has his large hands over his mouth. he’s kicking and biting but he’s twice as tall with more muscle in one hand than he has in his whole body.

he goes kicking and screaming like all the others, but he can’t help but to hold him closer than he needed to, to hold johnny a little longer, to pretend he wasn’t squirming in his grasp, tears leaking from his eyes and dripping down to simon’s fingers that cupped his lips.

johnny’s scared and he can feel his heart seizing up and his mind racing because he has heard of people who went missing in the middle of the night and he has heard the police reports and he has heard the stories, but he never - not once - believe that one of those people could be - would be - him.

he forgets what to do; those stupid self-defence moves, those stupid assemblies that he half-listened to - all he remembers is his voice and his limbs and he screams even though no one can hear him and he swings his legs and arms even though it’s against simon’s iron grip and the tears are streaming down his eyes almost automatically he’s terrified.

he doesn’t know what going to happen to him, what simon will do to him - he knows how stories like this end and he didn’t want to be a body in a dumpster; a name that would be printed on a newspaper that would be thrown away, ripped, trashed, burned, in a few day’s time.

johnny didn’t want to die.

no, not like this. not when he had so many things left to do - get married, have kids, have his dream job - hell, he still had to take that stupid math test and he has never wanted to go back to school so badly.

he didn’t want to think about dying and his limbs being torn apart and his blood spilling onto the ground and he didn’t want to think about his parents crying at his funeral and he didn’t want to think about dying with anyone around him but some psycho, his last breath wasted.

his life wasted.

he’s in hysterics by the time simon’s forced him into the back of a truck, his hands and legs tied with a gag around his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. he’s whimpering and crying and he can’t see a damn thing and all he can feel is the fear spiking into his system.

simon watches johnny crumble from the rearview mirror, shaking in his seat behind him.

he doesn’t feel remorse - no, he stopped feeling emotions like that a long time ago - but he can’t help but to think back to his laugh and compare them to the soft whimpers he’s making now.

something prickly settles in his skin. it’s a foreign feeling that he can’t decipher.

he tries brushing it away by revising the plan he had for him - he’d be his best work of art yet, and he’s spent nights poring over the plans he had made for him.

but a part of him can’t help but think that he was already a masterpiece on his own.

────────────

simon is quite fascinated with johnny.

he’s not sure what it is about him that makes him stare a little longer and wonder a little more. he’s dubious about what it is about this boy before him that makes him pause and question himself.

johnny is not like the others.

when simon holds his wrists - small and delicate and bound with rope - he can feel the bones that he’s snapped for so many people before him, but with johnny - with him, he feels something else.

his heartbeat.

and it’s not as if he hasn’t felt one before - he forgets he’s just skin and bones too - but there’s something about the pulse in johnny’s wrist, quick and pounding, that makes him caress his clenched fists.

johnny is whimpering and the tears are leaking through his blindfold and he’s shaking in his seat and simon does something he’s never done before…

he takes off his blindfold with gentle fingers. johnny finds himself staring into the brightest pair of hazel eyes he’s ever seen, close enough to see the flecks of gold in them despite the dim lighting of the room they were in.

his breath hitches at the sudden brightness and he hiccups, trembling.

simon takes a few steps back and a mop of blonde hair comes into his view, along with broad shoulders and toned muscular arms.

johnny is taken aback at how normal he looks - the plain t-shirt and black jeans, sculpted jawline and messy hair - he looks like someone he could’ve gone to school with. hell, he looks like someone who could’ve been his friend - maybe he would’ve even called him cute if he had seen him at a coffee shop or a library.

he couldn't deny that his features were attractive, but the twisted madness in his eyes both scared and repulsed him. he was normal-looking… perhaps that was the most terrifying part.

“w-what do you want?”

it’s a stupid question and johnny’s voice is shaking and he’s trembling and he doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer.

simon turns away from him and he’s still trying to decipher what it is about this boy that makes him feel so… strange. he has to remember that it’s not a love story - wolves and lambs don’t fall in love and some humans are just monsters in disguise.

he has him here before him and he has his plans all mapped out in his mind, but something’s stopping him.

no, it’s not his wet cheeks, the panic in his voice, or the fear in his voice - it’s not remorse and it’s not pity; it’s most certainly feelings like compassion or guilt that he’s long forgotten.

simon doesn’t know where to start, or what to fix, because johnny’s already a masterpiece in his eyes.

his mohawk lying messily on his scalp, every smudged corner of tears, every wrinkle in his sweater, every scar, every blemish, every little uneven angle, and slope of his body - he’s already perfect despite the insanity in his eyes.

simon takes a step closer and johnny automatically recoils in his seat; inching as far away as possible from him. he didn’t want to be with this boy with demented eyes that were both so terrifying and captivating. he’s beautiful but he’s deadly and he’s dangerous and he’s his death with the most alluring hazel eyes.

he’s close enough for him to feel his breath on his lips and tears leak from his eyes almost instantaneously from fear.

simon’s lips quirk up unnaturally in what could’ve been a smile but it is too disjointed and pointed to be natural - like a cat attempting to smile like a human. a set of dimples appear on his cheeks and he’s taken aback by such an innocent feature - the boyish detail doesn’t match the lunacy in his eyes.

simon leans in close enough for the tips of his fringes to brush johnny’s forehead. his lips are almost on his when he speaks - his voice low and raspy.

“I think I’ll keep you, love.”

end.

[iwasbored777]

Unpopular opinion but "I think Miguel is insane" and "I think Miguel is hot" can coexist.

You don't have to shame anyone for liking him cuz he looks good and you don't have to shame anyone for disliking him bc of his personality cuz they made him both hot and insane on purpose. You don't have to choose whether you hate him or love him either. I'm tired of either being called out when I like him or being called out when I judge him. Mostly those who hate him are always like this - you shouldn't be so mad that some people love him. I just hope they don't ruin him with a cheap redemption arc cuz that's how we lost all the best antagonists/villains which I doubt cuz these writers are too good for that.

But if you can worship Patrick Bateman and Arthur Fleck and Tony Montana you can accept that some people worship Miguel O'Hara too.

[tortillasconsal]

Here's a list of characters that remind me of the Slenderfam, because I can't handle it anymore:

Trenderman

Squidward.

Bobby Fabulous, from Phineas and Ferb.

Regina George, from Mean Girls.

Chanel Oberlin, from Scream Queens.

Patrick Bateman, from American Psycho.

GLaDOS, from Protal.

Adrien Brody, from The Grand Budapest Hotel.

Count Olaf, from Netflix's A Series of Unfortunate Events.

Miranda Priestly, from The Devil Wears Prada.

The Riddler, from Gotham.

Bloberta Puppington, from Moral Orel.

Slenderman

Anton Sugar, from No Country for Old Men.

The other Mother / Beldam, from Coraline.

Roy, from Don't Hug Me I'm Scared.

Emperor Belos, from The Owl House.

Judge Frollo, from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Hades, from Disney's Hercules.

Kyubey, from Madoka Magica.

Silco, from Arcane.

Mother Gothel, from Dinsey's Tangled.

Splendorman

Willy Wonka, from both the 1971's film and Tim Burton's film.

Jack Skellington, from Nightmare before Christmas.

Sardonyx, from Steven Universe

Sun Stone, from Steven Universe aswell.

The Cat in The Hat. Yes, I'm talking about the one from the fucking live-action movie.

David, from Camp Camp.

Brett Handman, from Inside Job.

I want to say Johnny Depp's Mad Hatter because a lot of people are expecting it, but I don't rlly see it. I'll leave him as an honorary mention though.

Surrenderman

Arthur Fleck, from The Joker (talking specifically about how he was at the beginning).

Shinji, from Evangelion.

Milo Oblong, from The Oblongs.

Peppa Madrigal, from Disney's Encanto.

Peter Graham, from Hereditary.

Morty, from Rick and Morty.

Cabadath

Jafar, from Disney's Aladdin.

Dracula, from Castlevania.

Pinhead, from Hellraiser.

Hannibal Lecter, from Silence of the Lambs.

Deathstroke, from 2003's Teen Titans.

Judge Frollo, aswell.

Jigsaw, from the Saw series.

These are based on my own take for the characters in my AU. I didn't add Offenderman because he's still the original version here.

Might update this as I write more of each character, but for now I want to post this to have some Creepypasta content while I keep finishing the requests