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#rb and or send some out. i actually thought about doing

angelshimaa · 4 months

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━━ [ 𝟒:𝟐𝟗 ] ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

✧ cw :: fem!reader (bkg calls reader 'my girl' once), fluff, bkg calls you ‘babe’ once, hinted at that denki has a crush on you, you just wanna braid his hair

✧ a/n :: finally some fluff 🤭 i actually really liked writing this one !!

“your hair is actually a curse.”

your words come out a little above a whisper, absent-minded as you play with his hair, his head resting in your lap. granted, the blond hair is softer than it looks, but its uneven spikes barely allowed for any diversity in hairstyles.

“like, what do you mean i can't braid it?” this isn't the first time this exasperated complaint is voiced and you hear bakugou snort, the corners of his lips tilting upwards in a half-grin.

“thank god, i’d look like shit with braids.” you try to envision them on him, but the fact that his face is upside down doesn’t help at all. what you do see is the light from the warm day peaking through the thin curtains to kiss his face, and you're reminded of how unnecessarily pretty your boyfriend is.

“who said you don't already look like shit?” you can't help it, and when he looks up at you, eyebrows raised as if you both know better, you grin and raise yours back— as if to suggest that maybe he doesn't.

“don’t think you'd be here if i did, babe.” his grin looks boyish and you can't understand why he prefers contorting his features into a grimace.

it's your turn to snort, fingers sectioning some of his choppy bangs off to as to fiddle around with them specifically. “maybe i’m into guys who look like shit, katsuki. ever think about that?”

“if you were, you would be in dunceface’s room right now, not mine.” it's too quick of a response to not have been thought of before, and you flick the top of his forehead. he's done it to you many times before, and you understand why— it was a little fun.

“kaminari is actually really nice, katsu, leave him be.”

bakugou rolls his eyes— of course you'd think he's nice. “he’s even better when he's not hitting on my girl— he should try that sometime.” you chuckle at his grumbling, eyebrows knitted together to frame his eyes. he's cute when he's harmlessly jealous.

“even if he was— i fear my heart is already taken.” you fake a look of sorrow. “a shame, really.”

katsuki's eyes gleam in daylight as he scoffs. “‘a shame’ my ass— you're so in love with me it makes you look stupid.”

he's right, the both of you know he is. neither of you would have it any other way.

“you say that as if you don't kiss the ground i walk on, katsu.” your smile is softer and it sends a pang to his heart.

“and you deserve every kiss.” it's a cheesy line, one a past him would likely cringe at, but he finds no shame in making his devotion to you well known.

you dip your head down to give him a peck on the lips, grinning. the heart eyes he gives you when you're that close has the butterflies resting in your stomach kick up. “that’s what i thought, katsuki. now... have you ever thought about straightening your hair?”

you laugh at the horror that crosses over his face, scowl settling in his face as if to tell you to not even think about it— it doesn't matter how badly you want to braid it.

katsuki's whipped. he knows from the way he thinks you laugh like a summer afternoon, warm and excited, but even he had his limits.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (fill in this form to join!) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuul @https-spacekay @k0z3me

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ef-1 · 6 months

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Transcribed Excerpts from Christian Horner's hour long Interview that are batshit insane and so narratively dense you'd think they're lifted wholesale from a book, featuring:

The most in depth, behind the scenes view of what transpired in 2018

Fords CEO getting in touch with Dax to gush about how much he likes Daniel

Christian feeling vindictive towards Daniel

Christian comparing Sebastian and Max

Christian comparing Daniel to Roger Federer

How Christian had to mitigate Helmut's shitshow and personally asking Dietrich to give Daniel everything he wanted

Hilarious rapid fire in the end and his perspective on the failure of Ferrari

●●● <- indicates a time skip

Dax: In tennis you see guys when they lose steam, they break apart.

Christian Horner : you see that with checo.

●●●

[Dax mentions that in Christian's position, a lot of people would not have invited Daniel back into the family. "Because Daniel turned his back on the family." ]

Christian: Daniel's a great guy. Very badly advised in his early career. Everybody fucks up at some point. I think he recognizes that he made a mistake. He didn't have good advice around him at the point he left us. Having spent time outside the family he realized what he had here was actually good. It was horrible to see that it got worse and worse after us. It was actually this time last year in Mexico where I sat down with him in my hotel room, I told him you need a complete reset- take a year out. Come back to us.

Dax: He's such a win for you guys.

Christian: Totally.

Dax: you sent Daniel to Jim Farley [ CEO of Ford] and I know Jim Farley and he got in touch with me and told me "That Daniel Ricciardo guy is the greatest!" I'm like to him: he's the dream, send him anywhere.

●●●

Christian: He's [Daniel] a confidence driver, when he's got his mojo, he one of the fastest guys on the grid.

Dax: he's lethal.

Christian: yep.

Dax: he's got that magic thing that people either have or don't have in my opinion which is: there are winners and there are not winners

[you're not ready for this lol]

Christian: He came to us, he's one of our juniors, I remember going to watch him in formula 3, he really stood out. Very smooth. Just great. Naturally. Like a Roger Federer kind of style behind the wheel, very very classic. Light touch. Great, great skill. And then he came through the system [RB program] when we had Sebastian Vettel, 4 time world champion- Mark Webber retired. We chose Daniel as the Junior, with no expectation on him and he started beating Vettels ass. he won 3 races in 2014 when we had FAR from the best engine, Sebastian never won a race that year.

Dax: Even his time at Mclaren, it sucked for him but he's the only one who won a race.

Christian: He IS the only one who won a race.

Dax: and for a long time now.

Christian: and Renault he had great performances. [...] he's got to feel the love. He's got to feel comfortable in the environment that he's in. Some of his races for us were- absolutely outstanding.

●●●

[Christian about the 2018 negotiations]

Christian: I asked Dietrich to show Daniel love. Helmut was obviously pro Max, I said if you could just balance things out, let him [Daniel] know you want him. Dietrich said "no problem, I'll talk to him" so he took Daniel upstairs after the race in Austria to talk to him, and they were there for well over an hour.

Dax: To the point you were nervous?

Christian: I thought SHIT! But they reappear, and they're both smiling, I tell him: "Dietrich, how did it go?" He says,"No problem, don't worry about it. It's not even a question [that daniel would leave]"

Christian: Then we went to Germany, and his engine blew up. His engine kept letting him down, letting him down, letting him down. But from there, we went to Hungary, and we got his paperwork [Daniel's contract] for a TWO year deal all sorted out. Daniel's manager came to me and said 'listen Daniel is nervous about the engine' because we were going to switch to Honda so his manager said: 'he'll do ONE year' I thought wow. That's not really what we talked about, because in 6 months we'll be having the same conversation. So I remember I went back to Dietrich, and I said, "it's about relationships. It's NOT about contracts. If he wants a one year contract, give him a one year contract," so at this point: he's got everything he wants. Also, at that point, Daniel was doing a test for us after the Hungarian race, I thought Daniel will sign the paperwork on Monday, suddenly Monday goes and he's in the car on Tuesday. I'm starting to smell something because this is an enormous deal, you'd have thought he'd be in a rush to sign this contract. And he didn't sign the contract before he got in the car in the morning and I thought he'd sign by lunchtime but it didn't happen. He had to get out of the car and go straight to the airport because he's flying from here to LA and I thought he'll call me. I'm feeling something at this point.

Dax: you know you're about to be broken up with.

Christian: yeah.

Dax: if your girlfriend didn't show up to lunch then dinner-

Christian: exactly. So- he [daniel] rings me, I was in the car with Geri, he tells me "I just got off the plane, I arrived in LA, and I've been thinking on the flight, all the way here- I'm not going to sign the contract. I'm going to take another contract. [...] he tells me Renault? The engine that let him down for 2 years? I was convinced, I was CONVINCED- because Daniel has got a sense of humour- I thought- he's taking the piss. I thought come on. I told him: come on. There is no way. You're not going to Renault, stop fucking about, just sign the contract. After 10 minutes he finally persuaded me that he was going to Renault. It was disappointing.

Dax: I wanna applaude you, because a lot of people who go through that experience think: fuck you.

Christian: there was an element of that. I thought: go and suck on a lemon for a bit. But actually during the pandemic, I remember he called me and said "Christian I hate to say this to you but you were right"

•••

Christian thinks Max > Vettel

Christian about Alex and Pierre being teammates with Max: he broke them

[Very confused in this part because Christian like? Says the best thing for Checo to perform is to forget about Max, stop trying to compete with him, stop looking at his data? Girl you are NOT selling it rn]

•••

When Christian is asked to analyse Red Bull's champions, he thinks Sebastian and Max are diametrically opposed . Sebastian is your stereotypical German, he would be at the track until 11 to analyse data. Max is not interested in all the detail [devasting news for all the bitches who spent years trying to dunk on Daniel by calling him not technical, Christian seems to think that Daniel and Max share a natural ability that doesn't rely on data.] He [Max] Gives you just what he needs to go faster. Max hates testing, has no interest in it.

●●●

Christian confirms he has a lucky toilet.

●●●

Christian says in 2014-18 Red Bull came this 🤏 close to selling to Audi.

●●●

Christian: Drive to Survive is the Kardashians on wheel

●●●

Christian: You get characters like Gunther Steiner. How scary is he. He used to work for us, I had to be the one to fire him.

●●●

Christian on why he believes Ferrari have failed over the last 15 years: Ferrari is a national institution instead of a Team. It needs to become a racing team again. Too many people have input at the top.

#it like. reads like fanfic #this team is so fucked up none of this can be healthy #what makes him tick #its all very insane. Machiavellian!Christian... be very afraid.#i wish Christian didnt speak about seb like that. just be more respectful. he clearly has his favourites #f1 #daniel ricciardo #Christian horner #brazilian gp 2023

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sunderlust · 2 years

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you left me no choice but to stay here forever (right where you left me)

masterlist

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader (hotshot journalist!reader)

synopsis: you and jake have been best friends for years and eventually he becomes the love of your life - which makes it that much harder to cope when he starts pulling away with no explanation (based off right where you left me by miss tswift)

wc: 14k (yoo I think I actually may'd)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, pining, supposedly unrequited love, kinda sad feels, reader wearing heels.

A shoutout to gretagerwigsmuse and @seasonsbloom - I wouldn't have gotten through this fic period, let alone begun writing in the first place without them. Please check out their writing, send them a sweet message or two <3

AGE SIXTEEN (pages turn and stick to each other)

This is not a date.

On a crisp Wednesday in October - well, as crisp as it can get in Texas - you find yourself sitting across from your high school’s running back in a greasy booth at your town’s renowned pizza parlor. And even though he’s objectively the hottest guy in your grade - not to mention the fact that he’s kind, well-liked amongst your peers, almost too charming for his own good - there’s no way you would ever go on a date with Jake Seresin.

For that matter, you’re not even friends. The only reason he’s even here is because you managed to pique his interest with the promise of a free meal in exchange for an interview for the school newspaper. So even though he held the door open for you and let you choose the side of the booth to sit in and even insisted on getting your favorite pizza toppings, you’re not going to let it distract you from doing your job.

You had been invited to join the school newspaper team in August, but you had yet to write a story featured in the paper. By some stroke of luck, Newsteam President Joe thought you were ready to handle your own solo project: a profile on one of your school’s football players. And while you aren’t exactly thrilled to interview Westwood High School’s star running back you’re determined to deliver a moving, heart wrenching piece about #25 and the trials and tribulations of high school football that’ll have Joe reaching for tissues.

No one needs to know that you’ve never even been to a football game in your life.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you tell Jake briskly after your waitress walks away after passing you your drinks. You pull out the giant legal notepad you stole from your dad’s study and your favorite ten color shuttle pen, then push down the lever for dark blue ink - for your more serious projects.

The boy in front of you nods once, stretching both arms out on either side of him to rest on the back of the booth, eyes darting around. “Sure.”

“So...” you start, then trail off, eyes scanning the list of questions you’d meticulously drafted the night before. You decide to start from the very beginning: “What can you remember about the first time you played with a football?” you ask, and Jake shrugs his shoulders.

“Blood,” he says simply, and you wrinkle your nose.

“What? Blood?”

“Yeah. I was six. My dad was trying to teach me how to catch the ball, and ma kept telling him to use the foam ones but he said they didn’t spiral as well. Ended up pelting a pigskin at me and clocked me right on the nose. I can still feel a bump here,” you briefly look up from rapidly transcribing to watch him idly rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

You nod, scrawling down the details, mentally planning out how you could possibly fit this into an article and thinking of potential titles. Child gets pelted with a football and vows revenge. Becomes Westlake’s Star RB. Pathetic.

“So you’ve been playing since you were six?” you try to establish a timeline. “Ten years?”

“No. I joined a youth league when I was nine,” Jake corrects. He doesn’t elaborate.

You sigh, tapping your pen on your legal pad idly, then another question catches your eye. “What do you enjoy most about football?” you flip over to a clean page and smooth it out, not missing the flash of incredulity on Jake’s face.

“You kidding? No offense, but these questions suck,” he snickers, and your shoulders sag as you flip back to scan your messy notes. “Do you even want to be doing this little interview?”

“Do you?” you throw back, angrily, nervously clicking your pen as you try and figure out how you’re going to salvage this meeting, reaching into the crevices of your mind to craft a less sucky, more thought-provoking question.

The one thing you know about conducting an interview is asking the right question, one that will unleash your subject to go off on their own path and tell their story the way they want to. This way, you find that you get the most details, the most honest perspective. And so far, all you had from Jake was a stupid story about a childhood injury doesn’t lend itself to writing a tear-jerking profile.

Jake’s smirk doesn’t waver and after a few moments of silence, he relents. “I was promised free pizza. What’s in it for you?”

You sigh and rest your head back against the worn pleather of the booth seat, squeeze your eyes shut, tighten your grip on your pen as you deliberate his question. “Will you answer my questions if I tell you?”

“If they’re better questions, yeah.”

You shoot him a quick glare, then let out a resigned sigh and click your pen, setting it down on top of your scribbled notes. “First off, I hate football. Never even seen a game.”

“Seriously?” Jake says and folds his arms together to lean in closer over the sticky tabletop. “We live in Texas. You’ve never even watched a game on TV?”

You shrug ambivalently. “No, it never really caught my interest. I mean, what’s there to watch? Someone screams out a bunch of numbers and then you all just charge at each other to wrestle for five seconds while a stupidly shaped ball gets tossed around? And don’t even get me started on your weird scoring system-”

“- It makes sense if you actually commit to watching it!” Jake defends hotly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he’s trying his hardest to fight a pout. “Why’d they even put you on this article? Doesn’t seem like you give a damn about writing football.”

“I don’t,” you agree, sitting up straight and daring to look him straight in the eye. At this point, you don’t care how little you know about the stupid sport - you just want Jake to answer your questions so that you can go home and cobble together something, anything to show Joe that you can handle writing your own opinion pieces. “But Joe said if I write a great profile, he’ll print my story about the cafeteria workers.”

Jake pauses, mentally chews your words. “Seems like he set you up, then, darling,” - your surprise at the sweet name is overtaken by the harsh reality check - “Seeing as he asked you to interview me when you’ve never even been to a game.”

A wave of clarity washes over you. You didn’t think about it that way - that Joe might have intentionally put you on this project just to watch you struggle, so he could easily shut down your other ideas. You deflate, shrinking into yourself, and your solemn expression suddenly has Jake shaking his head and trying to backpedal.

“Look - hey. I’m sorry. I’m sure... Maybe he’s just testing you to see if you can write things out of your element. Isn’t that the mark of a good newspaper... writer?”

It kind of makes sense, but the first reason hurts more, resonates with you, and opens the door for self-doubt to stride right in. With how hard you had to fight tooth and nail to even be offered a spot on the school news team, it’s easy to imagine they didn’t want to make things easy for you. Suddenly, you find yourself questioning your writing ability, wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jake purses his lips, drumming his fingers again on the tabletop. “What’s the story with the cafeteria workers?”

At this, you perk up slightly, straightening your back and halting your anxious pen tapping. “There’s just been lots of wages being cut, some layoffs early this year and now they’re being asked to work overtime and the supervisors keep changing the schedule around and giving them such a hard time for wanting to take time off. I think they let someone go because they wouldn’t come in when they had the flu. Can you believe that? Someone was literally sick and didn’t go to work in a kitchen where they could easily infect the whole school. And Sandra - you know Sandra the cashier? She told me they’re all planning to walk out in two weeks, which I think is really admirable - but honestly, I think they need someone to talk about their complaints y’know? Let their voices be heard?”

You stop, finally realizing that you’d been rambling for the better half of a minute about a topic the star running back probably couldn’t care less about. But to your surprise, he’s listening intently, nodding encouragingly, looking contemplative. It’s weird - you’re not used to people being interested in what you have to say.

It’s nice.

“Sounds like you’re a lot more keyed up about this story than stupid football,” he finally says with a half smile, and you push down the warm feeling it ignites.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, bashfully. “It’s just... It’s what I want to do. Write about real people and real events. Give the silenced a voice. Which I know, it sounds kind of cheesy and idealistic and quixotic - but I don’t care. I just want to make a difference. Maybe win a Pulitzer Prize, I don’t know.”

His eyebrows furrow - maybe he doesn’t know what a Pulitzer is - but he nods thoughtfully. “I mean... Don’t really know what quixotic means, but I don’t think you’re being cheesy. Speaking of cheese, though...” his eyes flit over your shoulder.

Your waitress interrupts, setting down a large pizza with the toppings of Jake’s choice. He eagerly loads two slices onto his plate and continues his train of thought: “Tell you what: how about I give you a hand with the article? I’ll tell you what you need to know about football, at least.”

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, and you’re honestly shocked he didn’t just brush off your whole rant about your hopes and dreams, amazed that he’s even offered to help.

He shrugs and swallows the huge bite he’d taken. “‘Course - but in exchange, you’ll have to go to our games. You know, all my friends come to support me.”

You first open your mouth to object to having to watch football - then close it, sending him an incredulous look. “We’re friends?” you ask dumbly.

He shifts, looks the tiniest bit bashful, busies himself with the straw in his drink. “I mean... I’d like to be. Who knows, maybe you’ll be famous one day or you could help me with my English essays - ”

“- You want to be friends so I’ll cheer on you at games and tutor you for free?” you interrupt, narrowing your gaze.

But despite your tone being riddled with annoyance, despite the glare you’re now sending his way, Jake sends you an easy smile, serving himself another slice. “Nah, you just seem pretty cool.”

By another stroke of luck, you manage to pump out a puff piece about Jake Seresin - something along the lines of how the first time #25 threw a football was the moment he resolved to never back down after the first hit, to wipe the sweat and blood from his face and keep pushing forward. Joe is more than impressed with the quality of your work - almost surprised, you annoyedly observe - and agrees to run the profile for the following week’s issue, just in time for Westlake’s playoff game.

On Monday evening, you’re reviewing your interview notes with Sandra the Cashier at your kitchen table when suddenly, the landline rings. “Hello?” you answer, anticipating it to be one of your parents’ friends calling to gossip. The line is silent for a few moments, and you clear your throat to try again. “Anyone there?”

Suddenly, Jake’s laughter flows into your ear. “‘Never back down’?” he quotes through a wheeze, and you hold back a smile, this time letting yourself feel the butterflies that come alive in your stomach at the sound of his voice.

“You didn’t give me much to work with for your story!” you tell him with a small giggle. “So I managed to pull this together, and I’d say it’s a heart clencher - a tear jerker, even. Joe’s happy, at least.”

“He gonna let you write that other thing?”

“About the cafeteria workers? Working on it right now, actually,” you tell him, twirling the phone coil around your finger idly.

“Well darling,” Jake says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sweet name, at the sound of mirth filling his voice, at the memory of his smiling eye crinkles that involuntarily flashes in your mind. “I’ll hold onto this profile, hang it in my gym locker. But let me know when they print that union thing. I’d like to hold onto a future Pyoo-litzer Prize winner’s first ever real story.”

“Pulitzer,” you correct him, and despite your writing hand hurting terribly from all the notes you’ve been scribbling and the slight twinge of a headache from your eyes straining, your heart feels full as ever as you chat with Jake - your new friend - into the late hours of the night.

AGE EIGHTEEN (wages earned and lessons learned)

Almost two years later, you find yourself seated across from Jake at your town’s fanciest Italian restaurant. It’s been a while since your waiter has checked in to take your meal orders, but his absence easily slips your mind as the two of you gossip while munching on garlicky breadsticks that are way chewier than you’d like.

After a lull in the conversation, you take a deep breath. “How’s your mom doing?” you carefully ask, taking a sip of your coke to avoid tacking on more words, to fight the urge to add more useless attempts at hopeful sentiments.

Jake shrugs, unbothered, nonchalant. “She’s holding up.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he just drums his fingers on top of the white tablecloth impatiently, turning his head to glance behind him at the swinging door to the kitchen. “Have you... spoken to your dad?” you probe, and while Jake doesn’t react harshly like you expect, his hand momentarily freezes.

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him.”

“Right,” you pause. “Do you think you ever will?”

Jake heaves out a sigh and turns back to face you, idly chewing at a hangnail. Your fingers twitch and you hold yourself back from reaching out to pull his hand away from his mouth. “There’s not much to say, really. They were married, and now they’re not.”

You nod slowly, taking another sip of your drink, briefly lamenting the fact that it’s now just melted ice with a dash of soda. “How are your sisters?”

Again, he shrugs. “Fine. I’m driving them around a whole lot. Kinsey won’t come out of her room, but that’s no different than usual. They won’t talk to him either.”

He’s silent, doesn’t seem to want to say much else, instead tries to play off his nervousness by taking another large gulp of his drink and shifting his eyes to watch the Cowboys game playing on the tiny TV behind the bar. But you can tell he’s gotten himself worked up by the way you can feel his foot tapping impatiently under the table, the way he presses his finger harder into his teeth, by virtue of knowing Jake so well.

So you change the subject. “Are we doing this every year now, then? A friendship anniversary?” you ask.

Jake visibly relaxes, almost looking grateful. The foot tapping stops, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to sling an arm around the booth and send you a signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Of course - gotta celebrate the day you learned about football - ”

“- I swear, I’ll break your nose again with one later - ”

“With your aim? Please,” he scoffs, a goofy smile breaking the moment he makes eye contact with you.

You roll your eyes. “Plan B is always my fists. Anyway, how do you think we’ll even keep up every year while I’m at school and you’re at the Academy?”

“I’ll visit you at Columbia - and before you say it, shut up. You’re getting in, Miss Pulitzer. As for the Academy... Depends on whether I even apply.”

“Why wouldn’t you apply?” you ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer, ready to pour out words of affirmation, tell him that there’s no way they’d turn him down.

“Not sure if I’d get in,” - bingo, but he follows up with something that stuns you - “And I think I might want to stick around here for a bit. Take care of the family for a bit.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, exactly. Because you were prepared to jump into a supportive best friend mode: reassure him that he’s a shoo-in, remind him of his accomplishments, deliver your long-winded ramble of uplifting words that’ll make your mouth feel like you’re chewing cotton by the end of it. But that’s not what Jake needs right now.

“I don’t think your Ma would want you to do that, Jake,” you say quietly. “She wouldn’t want you to abandon your dreams just to take care of her.”

He stretches his arms back, rolls his neck out hard enough so that his joins sound like crackling rice krispies in the silence. “She’d never ask me to. But I don’t want her to have a hard time, make her shoulder the burden.”

“Knowing her, she wouldn’t want to unload anything onto you, Jake,” you tell him firmly, sitting up straight in an attempt to look more certain, strong. “You’ve wanted this for such a long time. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you - I know a part of you wants to stick it to him or something. But fuck that, Jake. If you put your dreams on hold, you’ll regret it. You have to do this for yourself.”

“Yeah... I guess,” he trails off, still sounding uncertain, but a little less subdued. His hand lifts up and he’s again gnawing at the raw skin on his fingers.

“You’ve really gotta stop biting your nails, Jake,” you tease, hoping it’ll relieve some of the tensions that somehow returned, and he rolls his eyes. “If you want to keep your mouth occupied -”

“- You offering? I tell you, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it -”

“Shut up,” you snipe, feeling the heat rush into your cheeks at the suggestion. You shake off your embarrassment. “How ‘bout chewing gum?”

“Hate gum,” Jake pouts. “Makes my jaw hurt.”

“You’re such a baby. Lollipops?”

“Charles would hate me,” he replies, and you internally roll your eyes at him calling his dentist by his first name. His sincere dedication to exceptional dental health and maintaining his teeth was sure to win him the best smile Senior superlative. “If your next suggestion is smoking -”

“- It’s not!” you glare. “How about toothpicks?”

“You want me to roll a sharp piece of wood in my mouth? Sounds delightful,” he drawls sarcastically, and you scoff, turning your eyes to look up at the ceiling.

“Better than sticking your fingers in your mouth all the damn time. What are you, two?”

“I’m a ten, thank you very much.”

“You’re insufferable,” you groan out, fighting back the urge to smile. “You won’t stay a ten if you rip your fingers apart though, Jake. You should give it a try. They have flavored toothpicks, too.”

He ponders this with narrowed eyes, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lay it flat on top of the table to examine his cuticles carefully. “Think they have cinnamon?”

“Probably. Would keep your mouth fresh too.”

“Oh, the ladies are gonna love that,” he laughs, smiling so big now that his eyes crinkle and it feels like someone’s opened a window in this dim restaurant, pushed the sun higher in the sky and bathed your whole body in sunlight. You laugh along with him, rest your elbows on the table to prop your head up and just look at him, appreciate him as a boy who offered to help you within the first hour of knowing you, a man who’s willing to give up his aspirations to care for the people he loves. Your best friend who stopped giving you butterflies a long time ago and now brings you a feeling of comfort, of warmth. Of home.

Suddenly, Jake reaches across the table, palm facing up. You eye it carefully, slowly sliding your hand into his. “You good?”

“Thanks for putting up with me for two years,” he tells you seriously. And you shake your head with a smile, can sense the emotions well up in your eyes, feel your heart beating faster.

“Of course,” you breathe out. “Thanks for always supporting me.”

“Always,” he parrots back. “Anything for a future Pew-litzer Winner.”

You huff out a wet laugh, and the two of you just sit there across from each other, smiling like idiots until finally, with your vision slightly blurred and your hand still squeezing his across the table, you glance around for your waitress who has yet to make an appearance. “You wanna just... go get some pizza?”

“God, yes,” Jake agrees, immediately moving to stand up. “Think we can find some toothpicks on the way?”

AGE TWENTY-THREE (she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be)

The October after you graduate from Columbia and Jake’s graduated from the Academy, you visit him in Pensacola in a bar that’s packed to the brim with patrons in Navy-issued khakis. You find yourself in a booth across from Jake, snacking on greasy bar eats and nursing some shitty beers.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date, Hangman?” a dark-skinned, intimidatingly handsome man in uniform leans against your table and looks down at you with a grin that could rival a hyena’s. You glance over at Jake, who rolls his eyes.

“Coyote,” Jake says admonishingly, flips a toothpick between his teeth, but goes on to introduce you. “This is my best friend from back home.”

You wave awkwardly, pondering where his callsign may have come from - unless that was his birth name, in which you’d love to have a quick interview with his parents. Coyote raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Jake, subsequently pushing him closer to the wall and rests both elbows on the table. “So you’re Jake’s friend? With all the articles?”

You whip your head to look at Jake, who’s bearing a sheepish grin with his cheeks getting slightly pinker. His hand raises up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s nothing -”

“- You should’ve seen him during basic - had all these things pinned up on his wall, always reading your letters at breakfast with a puppy dog face. Honestly thought you were his sweetheart or something- Ow!”

Coyote’s rubbing his side where Jake elbowed him harshly, cheeks still red and teeth furiously gnashing down on the toothpick. Underneath the table, you can feel Jake’s leg start bouncing, and you shift your foot forward to lightly brush his, tap the side of his tenderly. He halts his movements.

“He’s just a great friend,” you clarify, beaming at Jake, who seems slightly less tense with his jaw unclenched. “Anyways, is Coyote your callsign?” your curiosity gets the better of you, and you figure it might be a good chance to get the spotlight off Jake.

“Sure is. Name’s Javy,” he smirks at you, then jerks a hand over at Jake. “Has he told you his sign?”

“Yeah, Hangman. Which is stupid, because he honestly sucks at the game -”

“- I don’t,” Jake hotly defends, sits up in his seat and crooks an accusatory finger in your direction. “You’re the one that does weird ass long words. No one’s gonna guess - what was it? Gerrymandering?”

Coyote attempts to stifle a laugh, but you let a giggle bubble right out of you. “I like to use it as a learning opportunity.”

“Here’s a word for you: buzzkill.” Jake retorts, and you scoff, holding back a smile, about to snark back when you feel your phone vibrate from your purse.

“One second,” you pull out your Blackberry, glancing over the email from your coworker at The Washington Times and tapping out a brief response.

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Jake say and your heart skips a beat, a smile forming at the familiar name as you press send on your message. Your surging warmth is immediately extinguished as you look up from your phone and see that Jake’s not speaking to you at all, not even looking your way. Instead, he’s shifted his entire body to face a gorgeous woman who’s stopped by your booth and is currently looking at him with a sweet smile.

“Still on for Friday night?” she asks, and you envy how cool she sounds saying it, like there’s no doubt in her mind that Jake will say yes, against your better wishes.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, the dimple on his cheek popping out, deflating you further.

She flashes a quick smile at you as well - no malice or threat in it whatsoever - and you wonder if it’s that obvious that you and Jake are friends, that you’re not on a date even though you’d both been seated in this booth for the better half of an hour.

Maybe she thinks you’re just here with Javy, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a smirk, eyes laser focused on you trying your hardest to keep your expression neutral. “You’re going out with Imani? What happened to Priya?” Coyote asks after the girl walks away, his pointed look at you unwavering.

Jake shrugs. “She knew I didn't want anything serious. So does Imani. It’s just drinks and dinner and you know... whatever comes next.”

They both share a chuckle and your heart clenches painfully. You’re no prude - you’re all in support of people having casual sex, and you’re glad Jake is forthcoming with these girls. He’s not breaking their hearts, and they seem content to just have one night with him and be done with it.

There’s just the tiniest whisper of anxiety that wonders if there’s something wrong with you for rarely engaging in hookup culture, for not feeling comfortable enough to have meaningless flings. The one time you took a step out of your comfort zone and hooked up with a stranger, your walk of shame felt like a daze - inside, you were empty, despondent. A part of you envies Imani and the mysterious Priya for being able to cast aside their emotions so easily, fall into bed with a stranger, step out the next morning without feeling like they’re missing a part of themself.

The little green monster in you also flares up at the realization that they’ll know Jake in a more intimate way than you ever will - in a way that you’ve only dreamt about a handful of times. Give or take. You’re not sure when you started seeing him in a different light, as more than a friend, more like the person you’d want to get old with and celebrate milestones besides the anniversary of you becoming friends - but it happened slowly, suddenly, then all at once. And now, your feelings just sit with you, tethering you to the impossible dream of knowing Jake as so much more.

All this to say, you can’t be angry with Jake or any of these women. It’s not a crime for him to want to sleep around. You just wish you had the courage to tell him it’s not entirely victimless.

“There’s quite a few girls back home who’d be shattered to hear this,” you tease instead, ignoring the way your stomach is dropping low, the way your appetizer is slowly creeping up your esophagus.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Always been a heartbreaker, darlin’, it’s an occupational hazard.” he tells you and you agree mentally, idly picking at the basket of cold fries on the table. “You’ll always be my number one girl, though.”

Ah, and the dream lives on.

AGE TWENTY-SIX (time went on for everybody else, she won't know it)

“Happy tenth anniversary to a spectacular, intelligent, absolutely phenomenal woman,” Jake toasts, grinning across from you at Malatesta Trattoria in West Village. Jake had insisted on treating you in celebration of your new job at The New York Times - did the research and made reservations all on his own, took time off and everything.

“Happy friendship anniversary to a guy who still forgets to pack his toothbrush,” you snicker, and laugh even harder when his look of pride quickly turns into a mock glare.

It’s been a full year since you physically saw him at your last anniversary dinner - Jake had been away on a longer assignment in Lemoore, and you’d been busy churning out inflammatory political op-eds for The Washington Times and applying to jobs in the Big Apple. The two of you called pretty regularly, but this was officially the longest the two of you had gone without seeing each other.

You thought it’d feel awkward, like you’d have to fumble to find your footing with him the same way you have to figure out how to balance when you put on roller skates, but it’s easy. The moment you stepped outside of your building to meet him, he’d rushed to lift you in a giant bear hug, like no time apart had even passed. And the whole night, the two of you chat about anything and everything- he fills you in on his assignment and about something he’s gunning for called Top Gun, and you tell him about an upcoming project covering creative renewal in Beirut - you both nod along as best as you can while the other speaks.

After your plates are empty and cleared out and you both have determined that you’re too full for dessert (although, the ice cream calling your name at your apartment might have you singing a different tune later), you both stand up to exit the restaurant.

The wine you had with dinner has loosened up your movements - typically, you have to move through the city streets with big strides and purpose - like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re already ten minutes late. But with Jake, there’s no timetable, no place you have to hurry to reach. Right now, the only thing on your agenda is to stand next to Jake in the middle of the sidewalk outside of this fancy restaurant and appreciate the moments you have with him.

And figure out how the hell you’re getting home.

“You wanna call a cab?” Jake asks you with an arm wrapped around your waist to steady your swaying form, and you balk at the thought of having to pay a hefty fee just to sit still in a car and try to keep your spinning head from making you throw up. God, your tolerance has become abysmal.

“We can just take the F train back to my place. If you’re okay walking?” you reply fuzzily, looking up at him with a messy grin. Jake’s sweet expression catches you off guard - hazel green eyes locked on you, his sweet smile etching a dimple deeper into his cheek, like Michaelangelo himself carved it. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you become all too aware of the feeling of his hand squeezing your hip, the warmth of his forearm around your lower back, the way his chest is just barely brushing your shoulder and yet still manages to heat you up from head to toe.

And you know he’s only trying to keep you upright, probably just trying to gauge your level of drunkenness and assess whether you’re good to make the thirty minute walk plus subway ride to your home. But he doesn’t know that it’s not the three glasses of wine you had at dinner that’s intoxicated you this much, that’s made your mind feel lighter than air and your heart ten times fuller. It’s all Jake - Jake - who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing on his mind, the only person in the world, the only one who matters.

“Are you fine with that?” he asks, and the softness written in his features reminds you of all the times you’ve looked at Jake and found a new favorite thing to fall in love with.

The very first time you looked at him - really looked at him - you fixated on the way his dimple poked out while you regaled him with a story about how you exacted revenge on your friend’s two-timing ex by pouring your entire yogurt cup on top of his head. The way he threw his head back with his eyes squinted shut and hands clapping together made you feel more enamored with him than ever, had you scraping the back of your mind for more stupid jokes to make him laugh that hard.

Another time, you remember looking right at his nose and thinking about how much you wanted to plant a sweet kiss on the tip, found yourself wondering how it would feel pressed against your neck as you both drifted off for the night, and how the sound of his soft breathing beside you would be the most comforting, reassuring sound to fall asleep to.

This time, you’re completely mesmerized by the way the streetlights hit the flecks of green in his eyes, the way his pupils look slightly dilated, the way his gaze darts down for a split second to your lips and right back up to meet your heated look. If you weren’t drunk you’d fall right into the moment, lean right in and press your mouth to his like you’ve always wanted to, let his perfectly brilliant teeth clash with yours. Maybe see for yourself if you can taste cinnamon on his tongue.

But you are incredibly drunk right now, and that’s no way to kiss him for the first time. So you pull your head back ever so slightly. “I think I just need to walk off the alcohol for a bit,” you shoot him a sloppy grin, still managing to lose yourself in those fucking beautiful eyes.

Jake’s talking, murmuring something low in your ear. “You sure? Those shoes look like they hurt.”

You look down at your heels - and yeah, they’re fucking painful. These past few minutes of Jake’s inebriating presence has given you the briefest reprieve from the sharp pains shooting up your calves. You’re desperate to take them off - but you can’t recall when your last tetanus shot was. And even if you were up-to-date, no one could convince you that it’s safe to walk barefoot in the streets of New York. “No, I’ll make it. Need to walk off the wine.”

“You wanna wear my shoes?” Jake offers and you scoff.

“You wanna walk barefoot? What, do you think they sanitize and mop the sidewalks every night?”

“I’m wearing socks!” he defends and you roll your eyes.

“Still gross. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big feet?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, looks momentarily stunned as his eyes dart to his shoes, then return to your face. “Big dick?”

“Big shoes,” you deadpan. “And if I take one step in your big clown shoes, I’m faceplanting right on the sidewalk. You want that to happen? ”

“Clown shoes?” he repeats to himself quietly with an amused smile, then shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine. But if you get tired, I’m not carrying you.”

“I’ll make it,” you insist.

“Jake?” you say thirty minutes later after traversing up the subway stairs, stopping for a moment to bend down and massage your ankles. Jake stops, shifts the paper bag with leftovers from one hand to the other and places his free hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern.

“Yeah?”

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d turn you down, deliberating if you even feel comfortable asking him for a piggyback ride for the five minute walk back to your apartment. But the aching toe cramp that you’re trying and failing to stretch out drowns out your insecurities, silences your fear that he wouldn’t be able to manage. You remind yourself that he’s been bragging about his new squat record for weeks now, anyway. “Can you carry me on your back? Please?”

A sigh. Then, “Sure darlin’. Hop on.”

You wordlessly reach to take the leftovers from him and he turns away from you, couches down low enough to let you clamber onto him. With an arm secured under each leg, he extends to his full height and lifts you up onto his back.

“Alright?” he rumbles, and you nod wordlessly, wrap your arms around his neck and hook your chin over his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in his familiar cologne, some Tom Ford scent you’d gifted him a few Christmases ago. It grounds you, keeps your head from spinning even more as you relish the feeling of your ankles not supporting your whole body weight.

You feel the alcohol hit for a second wave, completely demolishing your self-control, unleashing your thoughts to race limitlessly, to see no bounds. At this point, your head is close to mush, your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much, and you think you’ll never let yourself drink rosé again. But you’re certain of one thing. “I think you might be the love of my life,” you murmur sleepily.

Silence. Jake doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t even say it back. So maybe you were too quiet, or perhaps you completely imagined saying it at all.

Because it’s unlike Jake to let you have the last word.

AGE TWENTY-EIGHT (I'm sure that you’ve got a wife out there, kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware)

“Have you ever thought about this?” Jake asks you, leaning back against his chair as he watches the happy couple swaying in the middle of the dance floor to an Ed Sheeran song - not your personal choice, but the rest of the onlookers seem to be incredibly moved by it. This year, your friendship anniversary coincides with your old roommate’s wedding, and after much pleading (and the promise of an open bar), Jake agreed to fly out to be your plus-one.

It surprised you how much you had to beg for him to come. At first, he had been hesitant, imploring you to attend the wedding instead of meeting him for your usual dinner. You didn’t hesitate to dismiss that idea - it’s been twelve years of celebrating, and there’s no way you’re stopping now. Not when it already feels like Jake’s been pulling back for the past year or so: calling less often, answering texts hours after you sent them, sometimes not even replying to your articles with anything aside from a little thumbs-up emoji.

At this point, it feels like this anniversary is all that’s tethering him to you.

“Have I ever thought about my wedding?” you ponder. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t think I’d ever spring for something as big as this, but -”

“- No, no,” he interrupts, “you wouldn’t want to make a big fuss of it all, not a crazy big party and definitely not a five hundred person guest list. ‘Course I know that about you.” Jake smiles and shifts forward, leaning in close; you can just barely smell the sandalwood and vanilla musk of his cologne. He seems relaxed, finally looks content to be here - though you’re sure that’s all thanks to the top-shelf whiskey he’s imbibing. “I meant marriage, commitment, settling down. You think you’d ever want to do that?”

You purse your lips, gaze still locked on the newly wedded couple, appreciating the matching expressions of adoration written on their faces as they twirl around their guests. “Of course. Just haven’t found the right person who’s ready to do that with me.”

He scoffs. “What, like you’re struggling to find someone? You know, from the minute I walked into this banquet hall with you, I’ve counted maybe five death glares from interested parties.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you snort, tilting your glass up vertically to catch the last few drops of champagne.

“Sweetheart, I’d never lie to you. In fact, I think the redhead over by the bar is still sending daggers my way. And she’s hot, so I’m kind of turned on by it,” Jake adds seriously, and you roll your eyes. “Come on! I thought you were going to give Tinder a shot earlier this year?”

You snort again, this time feeling a little more jaded. “I did give it a shot. And all I found was guys holding up fish and finance bros asking for my snap. I don’t even have a Snapchat, Jake. What happened to just getting people’s numbers and having a normal conversation?”

“It’s a new era, all this online dating stuff,” he replies, crossing one ankle over his knee and interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “But I see your point, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place to find your forever partner.”

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” you remark and look over at him, momentarily allowing yourself to appreciate the way his tux fits over him. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re forty, we get hitched,” you muse, only half joking.

He chokes on his whiskey, coughing loudly with the liquor singing his throat. “Yeah, right!” Jake finally manages out with a laugh and teary eyes, and it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water on you, wakes you up from the lighthearted banter you lost yourself in.

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes, heart dropping at the rejection. “Don’t sound too eager. I’m not down on one knee here or anything.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He swirls around the remaining amber sea in his drink, slightly mesmerized by the mini whirlpool. “You know me though. Never settling down.”

You know you should take the sign to drop the conversation, but his quick refusal and blasé tone rubs you the wrong way. “Why? Because of your parents?” you hedge, leaning in to get a better look at his face, which has slightly hardened in the dim glow of the bulb lights strung across the venue. The extra bubbly you’ve consumed pushes you to question him, to finally figure out why he’s so resistant to letting himself be loved. “I know you’re scared you’ll end up making the same mistakes as your dad, but you know you’re not like him. Not in any way.”

He grits out your name warningly, arching a brow and gripping his glass tight. You run the risk of it shattering if you keep pushing. But that’s the least of your worries; right now, you’re blind with hurt. How can he just dismiss you like it’s nothing? How can he close himself off so easily?

“Typical Jake Seresin, you know?” you cut him off hotly, trying with all your might to keep your voice even through the haze of champagne. “Always so ready to let your daddy issues ruin your chances at happiness.”

He glares at you, knocks back the rest of his drink without even grimacing, doesn’t meet your gaze. Crunches the ice bitterly. “Get off your high horse, sweetheart,” he finally says roughly. “Stop pretending like you know me.”

You scoff, still not backing down. “You think after over ten years of friendship, I don’t know you at all?”

Another shrug. His leg starts bouncing incessantly. “People change, darlin’. You certainly have.”

You draw back, feeling like he just slapped you in the face. “What d’you mean by that?” you ask a little quieter, with a slight waver, still audible over Ed Sheeran’s ballad. Where’s he going with this?

He groans again, turns to look at you, but you don’t quite recognize the expression on his face. It’s menacing, hardened, darker than the amber liquid in his cup. “We do our separate things, sweetheart. We call a couple times a year and meet up on the same weekend to do the same dinner and yeah, that’s nice. It’s great. But that doesn’t mean you know me as well as you think you do. Quit grilling me - I’m not just a sad story for you to write about.”

His words punch you in the gut, sock you in the ear, send blood coursing angrily through your veins. Part of you wants to tell him off, unleash your fury, make a scene in the middle of this reception hall. Another part of you wants to storm off and leave him behind, but you’re not sure if you want to face the reality that he might not follow, might not chase after you with apologies and promises to soothe the burn from his words.

Slightly misty-eyed, you fight to reel your emotions back in, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you or make Jake feel like you’re guilting him. It feels an awful lot like using thimbles to catch roof leaks. Your strength comes back to you in slow, even waves: your heart returns to its normal pattern, your chest no longer heaves for air.

“You can’t say things like that, Jake,” you tell him, your voice surprisingly steady, rock solid. “You’re my best friend, and you can’t speak to me that way.”

His jaw ticks, his expression remains unchanged. “Sure, right. Sorry.”

The easy dismissal brings your anger back in a rush, yet gives you time to think about your next words carefully. “You’re such an ass, Jake,” you bite out, and maintain decorum, calmly push your chair back to stand up, send him a glare with all the furiosity you can muster before making a bee-line for the exit without looking back to see if he’s following suit.

You dodge fellow wedding attendees, snatching champagne from a waiter with a platter before knocking it back and setting the empty flute back down and continuing to make your way to the exit. Over Ed Sheeran’s second ballad, you can hear Jake quietly calling out your name, his footsteps right behind you.

As you burst through the doors, into the crisp outside air, you teeter for a few steps in your heels before leaning against a pillar, trying to contain your emotions, lest you say something silly or embarrassing or humiliating.

“Would you just wait? Would you let me talk?” Jake’s hot on your heels as he steps over the threshold.

“You’ve said plenty,” you throw back.

“Come on, darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jake says behind you, closer now.

“I think you made it very clear,” you grind out, turning on your heel and looking him straight in the eye. “You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this, Seresin. That might work on everyone else, but it’s not doing jack shit on me!”

He throws his hands up in the air, shakes his head. You eye how his fingers are twitching, how he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you want me to say? I’m just saying we’re not the same people we used to be -”

“- That’s fine!” you gesticulate dramatically, too overwhelmed with frustration to let your hands remain still. “But you don’t have to be an ass about it! You don’t have to minimize our friendship like this! God, Jake, what has it been? Twelve years? Twelve years of loving you, supporting you, celebrating anniversaries -” You cut yourself off, realizing what just bubbled forth from of your mouth.

Jake’s expression stays ablaze, but his spine stiffens, hands twitch twice before he clenches them, digging his nails into his palms harshly. You meet his heavy gaze, mouth slightly agape, mind running a million miles a second until it starts to decelerate, slows down gradually, then stops on one thought, one single thought alone.

“I love you, Jake,” you say. Like you’re stating a fact, common knowledge for everyone and their mother. The sky is blue, the world isn’t flat, and you’re in love with Jake Seresin.

He inhales, shaking his head, and looking down at the ground.

You falter, furrow your eyebrows, wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you. “I love you, Jake,” you repeat, this time a little louder, taking a step forward, closer to him. “I’m in love with you.”

Jake looks up, his face contorted into a look of pain, eyes void of its usual light. Inhales sharply. “I know.”

You falter. “You know?“ the words feel like marbles rolling out; you can almost hear the tiny plinks as they hit the ground.

“Yeah.”

”…How long?”

He swallows. “Since New York.”

You’re transported back in that moment, a montage of scenes from your tenth anniversary flashing through your mind like you’re in a cinema. You remember the night’s end in a haze: his warm body next to yours as you stumbled to the subway, you gripping onto his arm tightly with every lurch of the train, Jake carrying you on your back and you saying -

“Oh.” You shrink back, and the realization he’s held onto this for two years hits you like a truck. Jake is silent, hands now shoved into his pockets as he awaits your next few words. “And... you have nothing else to say to that?”

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Listen, darlin’, don’t get me wrong. I... care about you so damn much, but I can’t feel for you the way you want me to. We wouldn’t work.”

His words make you freeze and your anxiety screams out ‘I told you so!’ in a manner that echoes thunderously throughout your brain. This unrequited love is something you’ve always expected, always prepared yourself for, yet you never gave it much further thought to safeguard your heart.

You’re rapidly accelerating through the stages of grief - next, your anger comes back to you. First, in small rivulets that trickle down your spine - then as a rush of agony that feels an awful lot like the crash at the bottom of a waterfall. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall, your palms already stinging from how hard you’ve dug your manicure into them - but is it fair for you to be mad at him? For not loving you the way you desperately want him to?

For the longest time, a small, tiny part of you hoped Jake would come around, decide to knock on your door, knock you back with a signature bear hug. That he’ll swear to be there always, love you the way you love him.

After tonight, you reflect, it seems like that might never happen. And quickly, you surmise that you’d rather have one part of him than nothing at all. So as you finally reach the stage of acceptance, you vow to treasure every moment of friendship with Jake Seresin.

“I understand,” you tell him, feeling like you’re miles away. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?” His eyes still rake over you with concern.

“Positive.” You do your best to plaster on the most reassuring smile you can.

“Sweetheart -”

“- Can we just talk about this later?” you interrupt, feeling defeated and embarrassed all rolled into one. There most certainly is more to the conversation - but all you want to do is prolong it for longer, preserve the fantasy in your mind that you can Jake are alright, that the past few minutes never happened.

He closes his mouth, nods, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets.

From inside, the music suddenly changes - still a slow ballad, but this time it’s Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. “I believe you stipulated that I had to dance to at least one song,” Jake holds out a hand, looking at you almost hopefully. As if the last few minutes hadn’t completely shattered your heart and sent the pieces flying away with the wind.

“Ah,” you say, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome you. “You go on ahead. Think I just need some more air.”

Internally, your heart is deflating, sending slight tremors throughout your body. But you can’t have Jake know that, can’t have him feel even worse about this, won’t have him feeling an ounce of guilt for something so out of his control.

Despite your best efforts to hold it all in, a small tear escapes and slides down your cheek as soon as Jake’s back turns, and you feel like you might have kicked a pebble that’s about to precipitate an avalanche.

---

Jake calls you up a few days after, initially sounding like he just wants to check in until his tone takes on a more somber note, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Listen, I know we had a little bit of a heated... discussion at the wedding. And I just need you to know I really, really, appreciate you. And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I just want to make sure we can still stay friends.”

“Yeah, of course -” you stop yourself from readily agreeing, pause to reevaluate how you really want to take this moving forward.

Jake is the love of your life. That much is certain. And you’re not sure how willing you are to push aside your feelings, pretend your confession never even happened, just to go on with the guise that you guys are simply friends. Just friends. Holding off on love in hopes that he’ll come around.

If you’re being completely truthful, a part of you does feel empty without a person by your side, without a companion to walk through life with, without a partner to share all the moments of joy and despair and everything in between with. You’ve tried dating throughout the years - agreed to so many blind dates, worked up the courage to ask guys at the bar out. And somehow, you always run into the same problem.

They’re not Jake.

And it’s not like they’re not as funny as him, or as charismatic or charming or sweet as him. It’s not the fact that they gave you spearmint kisses when you’ve always craved cinnamon. It’s the harsh truth that no matter what, they always feel threatened by your passion for your job and your drive to succeed. Always find problems with you jetting across the world for different projects, and patronize you for saying you wanted to make a difference with your stories.

One Tinder date even mocked you for aspiring to win a Pulitzer - you’d promptly excused yourself to the bathroom and never came back, instead ending your night with a long phone call from Jake, who was six hours ahead at the time but more than happy to console you.

Jake’s always encouraged you, from the very first day at the pizza parlor to now. And the more guys you took a chance on dating, the less hopeful you felt about finding a future with someone as kind, as wonderful, as unwaveringly supportive as Jake.

Maybe it’s time to let go of the pipe dream.

“Actually, no. I don’t think I can move forward as just friends,” you rush out, and admittedly, it feels like you’re ripping off a bandaid but the sting feels more like an ache. “And don’t get me wrong - your friendship means the world to me. Even if you think we’re different people now. But it feels like nothing’s changed for me, Jake. I think for years, I’ve been holding onto the hope that you’ll come around and feel the same way. But after this past weekend... I think I need some space. Just so I can get over you, if you’re not changing your mind anytime soon.”

Jake’s silent on the other end of the line - the only indication that he hasn’t dropped off is the sounds of cars rushing on the other side. A part of you hopes he’ll take the bait you cast with your final sentence, that at the very least, he’ll consider reconsidering. You don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not,” you quickly reassure him while blinking away tears, feeling numb. “And I don’t want to be cliche and tell you it’s what I need, Jake - because believe me, sometimes it feels like I need you like I need a Pilot G2 pen or the sun. But I can’t live like this. I can’t settle for just having part of you because that’ll be agonizing for me.”

Silence on the other end. “I hope you understand,” you quietly add.

“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” his voice is void of emotion. You try not to think too hard about it, try to transport yourself back to a better moment when he was right there in front of you with every feeling written on his tanned, chiseled face.

Deep inhale. “Bye, Jake.”

AGE TWENTY-NINE (I cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can’t bear witness)

These gentrified tapas places are a menace to society. You shift uncomfortably on the cold, sad metal excuse for a barstool. This restaurant is noisy - glasses clinking together, patrongs cheers-ing to various occasions, champagne bottles popping open. Yet, the sound of the entrance dinging open is the only thing that makes you perk up, has you involuntarily glancing up hopefully in an attempt to manifest a familiar handsome pilot walking across the threshold to join you on your anniversary. But to your disappointment, it’s only a bunch of drunk bankers stumbling out.

In the past year, you’ve found a number of ways to distract yourself from the pain of not having your best friend. As per Dr. Richard’s advice from your first therapy session, you tried your hardest to find comfort in solitude: catching films in the theater alone, wandering through new art exhibitions by your lonesome; you even attended a wine tasting in Brooklyn and ended up passing the time with a group of ladies who encompassed very similar energy to the Sex and the City Quartet (and you ended up getting some solid reassuring advice after you lamented your complicated friendship - Samantha’s carbon copy was all too ready to shit on Jake by the end of your tale).

All in all, you’re content to be scoping out this restaurant solo, trying their featured cocktails and appetizers and people watching. You’re trying your best to convince yourself that you’re okay being where you are right now. The only thought that puts a damper on your night, sets your pride back a little is the realization that this might be the first October thirteenth you’ve spent alone in thirteen years. It shakes to your core, makes you flag down a bartender for a whiskey neat, but you calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out.

Jake’s a different man, not the boy who sat in front of you in your beloved pizza shop with a crinkly-eyed smile, telling you “you’re just a cool person.”

In the same way, you’re most certainly a different girl than the one who sat in front of him with a ten-color shuttle pen and bright eyes, one who was just grateful he’d seen a companion in you to begin with.

You’re a strong, self-assured, career-driven woman now. You’ve been featured on a variety of articles ranging from the devastating 2016 US Presidential Election, to a Buzzfeed Guest Feature on what your favorite ink color said about you, to discussing culture and conflict in the Middle East. While Jake’s support from the very beginning was part of what motivated you, what spurred you on, you are the one who did all the hard work. You are powerful, driven, intelligent, sophisticated.

You’re also drunk, and dialing a number you know by heart.

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message or...”

After the beep, you steel yourself. “Hey, Jake,” you clear your throat, gripping your phone tightly in your palm and taking a deep breath. “I, uh... Just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary. Think it’s the first one I’ve spent without you in a while.”

You pause, look around at the tapas bar as you try to gather your thoughts, wistfully eye the empty barstool next to you.

“I know I said I needed some time before. And I’m glad you honored that - truly, from the bottom of my heart. Even though a part of me wanted you to change your mind and chose me over not having me. Does that make any sense?”

Your eyes catch on the bartender who’s cleaning glasses with a towel a few feet away from you, catch him shaking his head slightly.

“Do you mind?”you snap, and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Quickly, he flashes you an apologetic smile before comically pretending to hear a patron calling out their order and dashing across the bar.

You snort, shaking your head. “Sorry. Some asshole was just... Never mind. You would’ve hated this place, Jake. I mean, aside from nosy people, it’s got overpriced drinks with Edison lights hanging from the ceiling. And there’s no jukebox - they’re just playing top 40s hits over and over again. Like, this is the third time I’m hearing Shape of You and I got here less than an hour ago.”

Again, you pause, feeling embarrassed at your incessant rambling. Debate whether to blab about what’s been plaguing your mind since you woke up this morning. “Sometimes I wish I never said anything and that we could’ve just stayed friends. I just don’t think that would’ve been fair to me - because I meant what I said, Jake. I’m in love with you. Even if we’re different people - I would’ve loved getting to know every version of you.”

It feels like a breakthrough, saying the words out loud, realizing that things truly are going to be more different than they used to be. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re perpetually mourning a friendship, you don’t feel waves of anxiety that try to convince you that you conflated your friendship to mean more. You can breathe easily.

“I think I’ve realized that the person I am today is all a conglomeration, a constellation of every interaction I’ve had with other people. And for the most part, I am who I am because of our friendship, because of your presence in my life. So a part of me is finding it hard to let go of that and move on without you being so ingrained in me. But I’m trying. I’m going to therapy, at least,” you smile optimistically, wiping away the first tear you’ve let yourself shed today.

“So rest assured, I’ll be okay without you, Seresin. In case you were worried. But no matter what, this day will always remain special to me. You’ll always be special to me.”

AGE THIRTY (and it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, I’m right where you left me)

You don’t realize it’s the day of your anniversary until you catch a glimpse of the date on your phone, realize why you felt like you were missing something the entire day. At first, it sends a wave of anxiety over you, makes your stomach swoop like you missed the last step on the staircase.

But as best as you can, you remind yourself that taking on this special day alone is part of your healing process, that sometimes we create our own heartbreak through expectation, and that it’s just a matter of managing your hopes, assuaging your guilt, honoring your friendship by yourself for the second year in a row.

It’s taken time, but you’ve made your peace with the fact that Jake won’t be playing as active a role in your future as you’d hoped. Maybe you two can just be the type of friends who send each other Christmas cards and call on your birthdays. Years later, maybe you’ll finally settle down and find someone who will support you just as well as Jake did, who will treat you kindly and see you as more than a friend to hold hands with from time to time and look at your lips sometimes and give you piggyback rides when you’re too drunk. If you have kids, maybe you’ll have Jake over to meet your family, oblige him to regale them with tales of your friendship, send gift cards for their birthdays and talk about his time in the Navy - if they’re interested in hearing about Uncle Jake’s career path.

That’s all. You settle for keeping him in your footnotes, for cherishing the memory of who he used to be.

Even if you’ll always be in love with Jake, that doesn’t mean you have to wither away waiting for him.

In the middle of catching up on some editing and shooting out some emails from the comfort of your plush couch, your phone rings with a familiar name proudly displayed at the top. Immediately, you narrow your eyes, wondering if he’s remembered or if it’s some weird fluke that he’s calling you on today of all days.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously.

“Hey, darlin’,” you hear Jake’s easy tone flow through the speakers, and despite all the growth you’ve endured, despite all the lessons you’ve etched into your heart, your brain turns to mush.

“Hi Jake,” you force out, feeling as nervous as you did that day you interviewed him at the pizza place. At times like this, you wish you had your old landline from back in the day so you could coil the cord around your fingers idly, distract your nerves momentarily from the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in two years. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright,” His voice is stilted, slightly muffled. Sounds just as easy as you remembered it, “Just... Remembered what today was.”

“It’s Saturday.” The quip rolls off your tongue before you can think any better of it - and you cringe inwardly at how rude you must have sounded. “I’m sorry, that was...”

But Jake’s chuckling on the other end, a delightfully warm sound, one that pulls a surge of pride from deep within your chest. “Yeah. You're not wrong.”

And just as quickly, it fades into the awkward silence - the kind you never used to have with Jake. Mentally, you flow through all the happenings in this past year, think about where his Ma told you he’d been last.

“How’s San Diego?” - “Can you buzz me up?” you both speak at the same time, and his answer makes you freeze, makes time suspend for a few seconds as if you’re floating outside of your own body.

“I’m outside your building, I think. Unless your Ma sent me the wrong address, which admittedly, I’d deserve but - "

“- You’re in New York?” you ask, still in shock, finally feeling in control of your muscles and limbs and words. Hurriedly, you scramble off your couch and swipe up your empty tea mug, then rush to your kitchen to deposit it unceremoniously into your sink.

You hear the sound of a car horn beeping on the street echoing both in real time and on the line, further sending your heart into a frenzy. “Yeah - you do live off 65th, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to just pop in like this - ”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you breathe out, making your way to your front door with your phone still sandwiched between your ear and your hand. “I just... Wasn’t expecting company.”

He snorts on the other end. “S’not like the Queen of England is coming. It’s just me.”

“Somehow, I think that’s worse,” you muse, leaning against your hallway wall and hovering your finger over the button to let him in. If hearing his voice has put you this much on edge, you can’t imagine what it’ll do to you if you see him in person.

“Maybe so,” Jake agrees, and you can practically hear the forlorn smile in his voice. “Mind letting me up, though? Just wanted to talk. In person.”

The reality of the situation crashes down on you - that Jake’s practically been AWOL for the past few years, that your friendship has felt one-sided and exhausting to try and keep up with, that you spent your last anniversary alone and sobbing into your cellphone So a part of you wants to turn him down, hustle him out of your safe space - but your heart pounds rapidly with its demands for answers, your brain implores you to hear him out.

Without a second thought, you push the button and hear the resounding buzz on Jake’s side, followed by a “See you soon, sweetheart.” The line clicks.

Mind going a million miles a second, you turn to glance at your reflection in the hall mirror that you’ve procrastinated hanging up for months now. You level a determined look at yourself, brush some crumbs off your sweatshirt and smooth some flyaways before pushing your shoulders back, standing up tall and proud in an attempt to exude confidence.

Three heavy knocks sounding out at the door immediately makes your look turn panicked, sending you stumbling over your feet as you reach to grab the doorknob and pull it open to reveal Jake Seresin standing in your narrow apartment hallway.

Not even five seconds have passed and you’re already annoyed with him. He’s still mind numbingly handsome: tall as ever, blonde hair still infuriatingly shiny and soft, green eyes catching the dim evening light, glimmering back at you like gemstones. It makes your stomach swoop, brings the butterflies fluttering back into your chest from where you’d banished them.

Asshole.

“Hey,” he greets, quirks up a corner of his mouth into a half smile that would normally have you swooning if you weren’t already frozen.

“Hi, Jake,” you manage out, eyes raking over his figure just to convince your mind that he’s really there, actually standing just a few feet in front of you. Shaking away the doubts, you step to the side, gesture for him to enter your apartment.

It’s not the sound of his footsteps that convince you, nor is it the brief brush of his arm as he sidles into your narrow apartment hallway or the unreal sight of how he fills up the space and how his shoulders stretch from wall to wall. It’s the familiar heavy scent that hits you - tobacco and vanilla - which makes your cheeks flush, your heart skips a beat.

He’s really here.

Gathering your wits, you follow him into your cramped living room, grateful that you’d done some vacuuming and tidying up that morning in an effort to banish all the anxieties and ruminations that come with this special day. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” you find your voice, snatch up an oversized throw to make some room on the couch.

He nods, turns around to assess your space thoughtfully before settling himself into the cushions.“I got your voicemail,” he tells you. “From last year.”

Oh. It suddenly feels bitter, leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You didn’t call back?” you hedge, immediately going on the defense. Instead of sitting down next to him, you elect to slide into the armchair furthest away from him, an attempt to shield yourself from him. An attempt to avoid making the same mistake twice.

“I was going away on assignment the next morning,” Jake explains quietly, patiently. He meets your disbelieving look with somber eyes. It only slightly alleviates the pressure building in your chest. “And... honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. It was one of those missions. The kind I wasn’t sure I would come back from - like, where they’re telling us to call home and lay down all the cards.”

You pause for a moment, absorb his words and feel a twinge of hurt upon the realization that you weren’t kept in the loop, that you never even knew you stood a chance at losing him. Before the emotions can rattle you too much and send you spiraling with anxious thoughts and what ifs, he explains further..

“I thought I would spare you the details, spare you from having to prepare to lose me. I was okay with that decision up until the moment one of my engines failed and my jet was going down - and the one thing that flashed through my mind was that I wouldn’t get to talk to you again, or see you, or how when you win your Pulitzer you wouldn’t be able to call me to tell me the news or how I wouldn’t be able to hang up the print of your winning piece next to your union one,” his voice is shaking slightly, and you know if you even attempted to reply your words would quiver just as much. In this moment, you’re trembling with your hands folded over your eyes to hide the tears brimming.

It’s a mix of sadness and anger and disappointment and you try your best to hold off on the tornado, but it rips your soul to shreds the more you realize the gravity of the situation. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you grit out, pressing your lips together to barricade the sobs. Your hands are tightly wrapped around a throw pillow, squeezing and kneading out your frustration on it. You can barely stand to look at him. “Took you a near death experience to call me? You think I haven’t already put myself through the fucking wringer after feeling so guilty for cutting you off just because you were too scared to love me? And you almost died?”

“I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, at least sounding sincerely apologetic.

“I appreciate that, Jake,” you reply bitterly, then defeatedly toss the pillow to the side. “When did you even get back?”

His jaw tenses slightly and he sighs, and you immediately feel triumphant for successfully frustrating him, as petty as it sounds. “Few months back. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I wanted to as soon as I got back, but I wanted to say all this face to face. And it took some time for me to figure out my shit, but I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out?”

All you can do is nod, purse your lips and let him say his piece - there’s no pressure to forgive him or fall into his arms.

“I think you were right,” Jake continues seriously. You dig your nails into your palms anxiously. Under any other circumstance, you would have loved hearing those words from anyone else. Not now. Not Jake. “You were right to call me out when you said I was letting the fear of becoming my dad hold me back from chasing what I want.”

As your anger slightly dissipates, you think back to that moment - about how those were just a few of the words you wish you could snatch up out of your past and make them disappear. Your breath hitches. “I was a bit harsh - "

“- But you were right,” he interrupts. “And I think that’s another reason why I shut down, because you know me so well. After all these years, I think you know me better than I know myself.”

You nod, not sure what exactly to say to that. It’s not like you can explain to him that you were so incredibly taken by him, that you held onto his every word and agonized over interaction in hopes of really getting to know your best friend.

Jake goes on: “And you have to know that my dad broke Ma’s heart like it was nothing. Married for twenty years, dated for five years, friends for another ten years. Even after you add all that up, it’s still not enough to keep them together. He still went for the first temp who waltzed into his office, still fucked with both of them for months on end. If my parents couldn’t keep it together, how could anyone else?”

You’re stunned, frozen in shock before you manage to gather your strength, pick up your thoughts and hurl them right back at him. Screw this defeatist attitude he’s picked up. “You have to understand that’s the nature of some relationships, Jake. Sometimes they’re not meant to last forever, sometimes people change - "

You halt, feel a wave of déjà vu. The words on the tip of your tongue sound eerily familiar to something that’s replayed in your mind for the past two years, and a couple puzzle pieces start to fit together. “Is this why you were spouting all of this bullshit at the wedding? About us changing?”

Suddenly, he launches up from the couch, walks two steps across the room and pivots on his heel to walk the two steps back in an attempt to furiously pace. He groans out exasperatedly, rakes a hand through his stupid perfect blond hair. “I mean... Yeah. It made sense at the time,” he admits. Briefly, you wonder when his nervous tics changed in the past few years, when did he switch from bouncing his legs under tables to wearing a path into carpets?

People change indeed. In more ways than one.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and there’s no sugar-coating your words anymore. He makes a sound, as if he’s about to feign offense, but you power through. “People change all the fucking time, Jake. How the hell are we supposed to grow and become better versions of ourselves if we stay stagnant? Where’s the fucking story in that?”

You huff out a laugh, don’t even wait for him to reply before continuing on a rant. He’s stopped pacing now, is looking at you, but you’ve sprung up to your full height to look at him straight on, deliver your words as firmly as you can.

“People change, Jake, especially when they’re in relationships - it’s a matter of adapting, supporting them and loving your partner through it. And like, let’s be clear: I’ve changed a lot, too. Physically and emotionally - but I’m okay with it because I realize it’s made me become someone my sixteen year old self would be stoked to meet. And not just because I live in the city or because I have, like, two Montblanc pens - but because I’m working on these stories and they fly me out wherever to interview people, and I know I haven’t sent my stuff to you in a while, didn’t think you’d still want to read it - ”

“- I’ve kept up,” Jake interrupts. You stop in your tracks, tilt your head to the side as you process this. “I wanted to read them.”

“You have?” you ask dubiously, doubtfully. Hopefully.

“‘Course,” he affirms, sends you a reassuring smile and stands up straighter, takes a step forward. “I mean, not while I was overseas, I read up when I got back. I really liked that one about the Obamas’ portraits. Thought that was pretty cool. But the one about the grassroots movements for peace in Afghanistan got me thinking. Like, obviously I was assigned there for a while, but didn’t really consider other things happening there - Actually, I had some questions for you, but we can talk about it later...”

“Oh. Sure.” You’re slightly shocked at the confession, at the small vision that flashes through your mind of Jake typing your name into Google and catching up on your stories, determinedly following your career even during the most unstable moment in your friendship. It sparks hope in you, sends a wave of hope crashing down on you forcefully. “Wow. I didn’t think you… That means the world to me, Jake.”

He’s quiet for a moment, excitement reverting back to a somber contemplative expression. “I understand what you’re saying about change,” he says hesitantly, rocks back on his heels. “And I think I’m starting to understand what you meant in your voicemail about the... conglomeration stuff. Loving every version of me. Because I really feel the same way about you.”

It’s ambiguous, a little mysterious, his words a little stilted and broken, and you replay his words over and over to try and dig up the meaning behind them. But he’s taking another step towards you - if you reach out, you can certainly reach up and run your finger across the small bump in his nose from that football all those years ago. Hold his cheek in your hand like you've always wanted to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he’s saying, and it makes your heart thud a million miles a minute, makes you want to pinch yourself. “I can’t remember it for the life of me. But I think about the moment I realized it - when you said it to me four years ago. And I regret not saying anything back every fucking day.”

Your heart stumbles, crushes up against the front of your ribcage as it tries to peek out at the man you’ve loved since you were seventeen. “Oh, Jake,” your response rolls out along with two tears down your cheeks.“ It’s okay - “

The scent of vanilla tobacco hits you first, then his chest as he pulls you into a giant bear hug that envelops you in a warmth that could put both the sun and Texas bonfires to shame. Your face is pressed into his jacket and he’s talking, saying something that you don’t really register until you tilt your head up and dig your chin into his firm chest.

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart,” the words burst forth. His hand’s resting gently on the small of your back - the warmth of his palm radiates comforting heat through your body that only multiplies as he pulls you into him. You stabilize your hands on his shoulders, crane your neck to look up at him and map out every part of his face - from the small lines in his forehead to the slope of his nose to the slight redness in his cheeks. “It’s okay if it’s too late, if you’ve moved on. I just don’t want to lose you again, don’t want to risk not talking to you, can’t - ”

“Of course I’m in love with you, stupid man,” the words come to you as easily as breathing does. The smile that spreads across his face brings back your favorite eye crinkles, carves a dimple into the corner of his mouth, makes it feel like you’re bathing in sunlight. And Jake wastes no time, doesn’t even hesitate before he’s breathing out a question and you're nodding tearfully and then he's cupping both of your cheeks gently and surging forward to press his lips to yours.

Jake tastes like cinnamon, just as you’ve always suspected. Aside from that, nothing about the way you love Jake is predictable. Nothing is ever steady, nothing is ever expected. Every moment with him brings forth a new set of revelations that drives you crazy, tears you to pieces. And somehow, it’s all incredibly worth it, worth the brief heartbreak, worth the years of hoping and waiting for him to join you. Because in the end, he made it. In this moment, it feels like everything is just right.

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #tgm fanfic #mine

3K notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 6 months

Text

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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albonious · 5 months

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hiii hope u dont mind me asking, but could u recommend ur favorite galex long fics out there? also!! ur fic u have pinned i read it before we even were mutuals and it's SO GOOD one of my favs!!

ahh thank you so much, i'm glad you liked it!!

i don't know what you consider a longfic but since there are barely any 50k+ galex-centered fics i will list my favourites that are 20k+ lol

all green lights by venerat (22k) f1 driver george texts the wrong number after a hookup and he and non-famous alex start texting, and then they accidentally meet in a club.

it's you i fell into by glitterbb (@yesterdayiwrote) (22k) george and alex go on married at first sight and get married to each other.

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce (@janinaduszejko) (25k) george finds out alex has hooked up with guys and becomes obsessed with it, so they end up hooking up as well and not talking about their feelings (but what else is new).

you and me till the end of time by alltimecharlo (28k) george has a four-year-old daughter and alex is her preschool teacher, and actually, his daughter's preschool teacher is really cute, george thinks.

wait 'till the world is mine by lewisshamilton (@georgerussells) (30k) this is a classic. george finds out he's the crown prince of the uk and alex is with him through all his struggles.

who's that guy? by ohmygaslys (singsweetmelodies) (@singsweetmelodies) and welightitup (@welightitup) (31k) a new girl au! if you (like me) have never seen new girl, yuki, pierre and alex live together and after max and daniel moved out, they needed two new roommates, who end up being (surprise surprise) george and charles, who also happen to be alex' and pierre's exes. george and charles think pierre and alex are dating, pierre and alex think george and charles are dating and yuki is just so. incredibly. done with them all.

what do i know? show me the right way to go. by tiredtiredsharl (34k) musician alex and actor george used to date, but broke up and became strangers. years later, they reconnect because the band alex is in is writing the theme for the james bond movie george will be playing in.

champagne gold by lewisshamilton (@georgerussells) (34k) alex, son of the uk's prime minister, and george, crown prince of the uk, fall in love. it's as simple as that. (loosely inspired by rw&rb).

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by prettyrotten (@prettydangrotten) (40k) loads and loads of miscommunication, they both can't talk about their thoughts for shit and it's so awkward but it's so damn rewarding when they finally get their shit together and talk.

confide in me by glitterbb (@yesterdayiwrote) (45k) alex, writing for a right-wing tabloid, meets george, son of the labour party leader, at a labour party event and against all odds, they fall in love.

if you know some more good galex fics, please send them to me, i am desperate for some more content of them!

#all of these are so good i'm so obsessed with all of them #myr answers #f1 #f1 rpf #galex #f1 fic rec #fic rec #george russell #alex albon

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sagesolsticewrites · 1 year

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touchstarved | Austin Butler x gn!reader

a/n: i was feeling incredibly touchstarved tonight and… this was the result dkfjadkfjh

Word count: 942

Warnings: touch starvation, implications of depression?, reader is Not Doing Great mentally tbh (but it’s okay! happyish ending!!), would this qualify as hurt/comfort?? idk dkjghsdkh, I think that’s it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

day 59 since Austin had left for Australia.

nearly two months since you’d felt his arms around you at the airport, warm whispers in your ear of see you soon and i love you and get home safe and i’ll call you the second i land.

and he had. in fact, he had been diligent about calling you nearly every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, just to hear your voice, and sending you good morning, sweetheart and sweet dreams, beautiful texts across the 18-hour time difference between the two of you.

but none of that changed the fact that he wasn’t here to hold you, kiss you, hug you, and you hated it.

if you were honest, you hated yourself a little bit for feeling this way. this was the biggest break of his career, and you were feeling sorry for yourself because you wanted a hug?

but it was more than that. you hadn’t been very affectionate with anyone before Austin, but in the past year or so of dating him, you’d gotten used to having someone to hold hands with as you were walking down the street, to hug when you got home from work, to cuddle with as you watched a movie. you thought you’d be fine while he was gone — you’d been fine before, hadn’t you? — but every time you woke up to his side of the bed being cold, every time your hand dangled at your side, empty, on the way back from your favorite coffee shop, every time you found yourself hugging a pillow during your solo movie nights… you felt like you were missing something essential to you.

touchstarved.

you had come across the term on some social media or other and though you hadn’t quite admitted that that’s what you were feeling, you quietly did some research and invested in a weighted blanket, a body pillow, and some face masks for when you needed a self-care day.

and they did help, at least for a while. but some part of your brain was frustratingly insistent that nothing was going to help like Austin actually being here was.

he won’t be back for a while, you mentally retorted, shifting under the weighted blanket and hugging the stuffed elephant Austin had gifted you on your birthday even closer, so deal with it.

it was at that moment you heard what sounded like keys jangling at your door.

you froze. you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. was someone breaking in?!

You carefully sat up, dropping the stuffed animal as your hand crept towards the baseball bat you had ready near your bedside table. should you call the police? you wondered, but as you experimentally tapped your phone, it stayed dark. dead.

steeling yourself, you tiptoed out to the living room. better to try to catch them before they took anything, you figured.

you still heard something jangling at the door — had whatever they were using to try to pick the lock gotten stuck? — so it seemed like you had the upper hand for now. adjusting your grip on the bat, you readied yourself as the knob finally turned and—

the bat slipped from your hands, clattering onto the floor as you tried to process Austin walking through the door, the excited smile on his face slipping towards a look of concern.

“hey— woah, honey… Y/N, sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“i… i thought you were someone trying to break in,” you respond numbly, blinking repeatedly as if to assure yourself that this was real, “what… are you doing here?”

“i wanted to surprise you,” your boyfriend replies with a sheepish grin, closing the door behind him and turning back to you with his hands raised in innocence, as if to show you he means no harm. he takes a step forward as he continues explaining, “we were a little ahead on filming, so Baz gave us a little break—“

that one small step, though, was enough to snap you out what whatever spell you were under, and his explanation is cut short as you crash into him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his warm sandalwood scent that had slowly been fading from your pillows.

“i missed you,” you whisper against his skin, so soft that he doesn’t hear so much as feel your lips forming the words on his neck. you feel yourself shaking slightly, and under normal circumstances you’d be more than a little embarrassed, but right now you don’t care because he’s here, real and warm and solid underneath you.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart,” he chuckles in reply, though it’s tinged with worry as he feels you trembling. “hey, you okay?” he murmurs, moving to pull away so he can see your face, gauge how okay you really are.

but you don’t let him, your only reply being a nod of your head into the crook of his neck and a tightening of your arms around him, blinking back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as it hits you just how much you needed this. he relaxes, seeming to recognize that he won’t be escaping the circle of your arms anytime soon, instead pulling you closer and murmuring soft i love yous and i missed yous into your ear.

he can ask you about how you’re feeling later — because clearly this goes deeper than a normal long-distance trip — but for now he lets himself relax into your arms, trying to make up for the nearly two month’s worth of hugs that he’s missed from you.

#i cranked this out in like an hour pls excuse any typos or grammatical errors dkjfdkhgj #whew. emotions amirite #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #austin butler fanfiction #elvis baz luhrmann #elvis biopic #austin butler fluff #would this qualify as hurt/comfort?#austin butler x gn!reader #austin butler x gender neutral reader #my writing

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my-writings-and-musings · 1 year

Note

Hello!! Um, if it’s okay, could I ask for a RB Chase x reader? I’ve been drowning in college assignments lately and I barely have time to rest/eat :(( It’d be nice if it included some comforting <3

I hope this was okay, have a good day/night :> 🫶

I know that experience well, anon, so have this and good luck on your assignments!!

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

The light of your desk lamp was nearly blinding at maximum brightness, but you didn't dare turn it down, and even made a point to keep it right over your notes for the most pronounced effect. For all the pain it caused your eyes, it was well worth it to stay awake. You didn't dare drift off with so much more to do...

Alone in the bunker for privacy, you occasionally paused to check the time and found it increasingly disheartening, the late evening turning to early morning with so little progress to show for it. Between assignments that were presently due and studying for those that would be due layer, you weren't sure you'd ever be finished with your work. Your primary comfort was in knowing that you'd be able to sleep once it was done, and even if you only got a few minutes before you were needed for something else, you considered that more than enough. Just imagining closing your eyes for fifteen minutes sounded like heaven.

Between the exhaustion and your focus, you were very easily snuck up on, even by someone over fifteen feet tall who made no attempt to actually sneak.

"Y/N? Why are you-?"

Jumping like a startled cat and sending multiple papers flying, you turned to find Chase behind you, servos up in a disarming gesture. Letting out a sigh of relief, you felt your blood pressure drop as you sat back down. Your exhaustion must have made you jumpier than expected, as surprises from the bots had never frightened you so intently before.

"Apologies. My intent was not to frighten you." Chase said with as much sincere guilt as his monotone could carry. Feeling guilty yourself, you massaged your tired eyes to try and meet his gaze without looking like a sleepless zombie, almost able to feel the bags forming beneath them.

"It's not you, Chase, I'm sorry I jumped." you replied as he kneeled down to speak at a more even level. Looking into his optics brought you a significant amount of comfort, which almost made you feel worse about how little time you had for this conversation. There was nothing you wanted more than to just relax and converse with the mech you loved, but you simply didn't have enough energy to split between him and all the work you still needed to get done. It didn't help that your traitorous brain was reminding you of how comfy it was in his arms...

"You appear... exhausted." he said plainly, hesitating before he settled on his usual bluntness. You'd have smiled if your body wasn't struggling just to sit up.

"I've got a lot of assignments to get done, so I've been pushing my bedtime back a bit." you explained, trying to play down your exhaustion while steering the conversation in a way that would allow you to politely get back to work. It was far too tempting to just forget everything and chat with the assignments being so incredibly boring, and with his presence being so wonderfully calming... you had to pinch yourself just to keep your head from dipping under its own weight. You must have been less convincing than you thought, because even Chase had to slightly lift a brow at your obvious underselling.

"It is three eleven AM, that is more than could reasonably be defined as a "bit", by any acceptable definition." he countered, gentle but firm in his refusal to back down. You wilted a little at how quickly you were seen through, but your dedication to your work refused to allow you a chance to surrender. There was a part of you that just didn't like being helped.

"Well... yeah." you conceded as your fried brain scrambled to think of what you could say. Of course Chase was worried, it was in his nature to fret, but you were determined not to admit you needed any kind of help when you were so confident no one else in your position would have needed it. Not meeting his gaze, you tried to smile in a manner you hoped would read as reassuring. "I'll get some sleep once this is done, I promise."

Chase bent down a little lower, getting more on your level and not bothering to hide he was looking you over. "You appear to need it most urgently right now." he said in summation, pushing you into more arguing even as a growing urge within you wanted nothing more than to submit.

"Fair enough, but I just don't have the time. If any of these assignments are late-"

"Can you not request an extension on the deadline?" he interrupted, concern growing more evident as you leaned against your desk to stay upright. He hovered a hand by your side, and you took it instinctively for support, an act you immediately regretted once you felt the warmth of his armor against you. There was nothing you wanted more than to lean into him and let his considerable strength support you...

"I... I wouldn't want..." you couldn't even manage a rebuttal through the fog in your mind, and worse still, you didn't even have the energy to be upset about it any longer. The pages of notes and the spread of open books on your desk turned to a blur as you held on to the cruiser's arm, head resting against him as your eyelids grew heavier than stone.

"Could it be requested on your behalf?" he pressed further, offering his other hand to tilt up your chin. Like a cat, your neck went limp and you allowed him to support the weight of your head, your tired eyes meeting his optics as you managed a single word.

"Maybe?"

Softening his gaze, Chase let out a tiny sigh, speaking with a level of inflection that more fully conveyed his concern. "You need sleep, Y/N."

"Probably..." you conceded at long last, worn down more by his efforts in five minutes than you'd been by hours of your body demanding what it needed. There was no denying you'd pushed yourself to your limit, but you just couldn't bring yourself to go any further with his presence being so comfortable and your desk being so hard and unwelcoming. You thought fondly of the time you'd fallen asleep in his backseat during a long drive, and how safe you'd felt and how deeply you'd slept... There was nothing you wanted more.

"Definitely." he said to finish the argument. You actually helped him pull you to your feet, but when your tired legs wobbled under your weight he simply scooped you up and pulled you to his chassis, flicking off your lamp with remarkable dexterity. Being cradled in his arms drew a sigh of absolute relief past your lips, and it was almost impossible to stay awake as you felt his warm embrace all around you. Chase moved away from your little workstation and moved quietly through the bunker, his voice a distant but pleasant echo that barely reached you. "I cannot access your bedroom, but the couch has blankets and pillows."

You felt the plush fabric of the couch meet your body like a cloud, and when you instinctively reached to tuck yourself in the cruiser beat You to it, delicately pulling a blanket over your body before he slipped a pillow under your head. A final burst of stubborn independence compelled you to assure him the extra effort was unnecessary. "You don't have to do this, Chase."

"I know." he confirmed softly. There wasn't enough in you to reply, but before the bliss of long overdue sleep took you away you were aware of being tucked in and the blurry image of a rare smile, his words reminding you there was nothing you needed to face on your own.

"But I want to."

#transformers #maccadam #tf #rescue bots #tfrb #rb #chase #chase x reader #x reader #transformers x reader #human reader #self insert

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enluv · 9 months

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sleeping under the stars ⋆ ˚｡⋆☆ !

coco’s love note: before anything, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through my journey on this platform, honestly from the bottom of my heart I’m so thankful for you all and appreciate it so much, all the comments, rbs, like, asks, tags, literally everything means a lot to me!! i love being able to write and share my works with you, and it makes me overjoyed when you also read and enjoy them :) i am terrible when it comes to these types of paragraphs but I do want to say thank you again, and I will continue to keep writing for you as much as I can <3 (p.s: thank you to all my wonderful moots who encourage me to write everyday not only with their words but their own works as well !!)

sleepover? what’s that! - well let me explain, I will be hosting a night where we can all come to this blog and stay up with some cute little activities that I have planned out just for us :) below I will explain all the activities we will be having at our sleepover!!

when is it? - july 24th @ 10 PM cdt! – so get your questions and everything ready for the night to come :) !! feel free to send them in already so they’re ready to be answered on the 24th !!

rules? - be respectful, check the open slots - once slots are filled any asks sent after will be deleted, follow the rules for each activity as stated, please be following me if you are participating in my event and do not send in an ask if you aren’t because you’ll be taking slots from my actual followers (moots you can ignore if slots are filled and still send in an ask for an activity!)

the groups for this event are the following - enhypen, tomorrow x together, stray kids, and seventeen.

PSA: please note that you can participate in multiple activities but for activity #2 & #3 I ask that you pick between the two so that others will have a chance to join as well!

onto the fun, what activities will we be doing?! - we will have three main activities to participate in!! and below I will explain them to you as best as I can with examples !!

activity number one: ask the characters!

how to participate? - as many of you know I have a handful of writings on this account, and even more to come! but i wanted to offer you the chance to get the answer to any questions you’ve ever had when reading my works, anything left unsaid by a series or fic that I’ve posted! the way this works is you can send in an ask with the name of the series or work or character you’re curious about and they will answer your question!! you can also ask me any questions if you’d like <3 (this idea was given to me by an anon!)

example(s): “ activity #1 - I have a question for soft launching jay, how did you meet your y/n?” and he’ll answer the question for you !! OR “this if for activity #1 and I have a question for coco, in three exes blank says this and I was wondering if it meant anything deeper?” !!

activity number two: drabbles & drabbles!

how to participate? - drabbles are some of my favorite things to write, so this is simple enough, send me an idol from the groups i stated above and a word and I’ll write you a drabble based on how I interpret that word! make sure to be specific, include the activity number along with the word, idols name, and group - this activity will have a limit after a certain number so make sure to check back here to see if it’s open !!

example(s): “hi coco, this is for activity #2 - my idol choice is felix from skz and my word is dreamy” OR “for activity two - my idol is yeonjun (txt) and my word is petrichor”

— CLOSED!

activity number three: alexa play cupid (read: matchups!) !!

how to participate? - have you ever wanted to know which idol you’d end up with? ever thought, hmm he’s perfect for me! we’ll look no further, in this activity I will match you up with the perfect idol for you!!

– all YOU have to do is send (ALL) the following: your name, if you are a minor or adult, an idol with the same personality as you, favorite song, zodiac sign, and a hobby you enjoy doing !! please include all of these, if your ask does not include them they will be marked as invalid!

example: “hey coco this is for activity #3 - my name is (name), i’m an adult, an idol with my personality is beomgyu, my favorite song is (insert song), my zodiac sign is taurus, and a hobby I enjoy doing is crocheting!!” OR “hello this is for activity #3 my name is (name/pseudo), I’m a minor, an idol with my personality is jake from enhypen, my favorite song is (insert song), my zodiac sign is cancer, and a hobby I have is going to the gym”

— CLOSED!

coco’s love note: once again, thank you so much for 3k followers, I hope we continue to grow and you have fun with this event! & thank you to all my moots who read this over and helped me make it the best possible <3

#˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ coco’s 3k milestone event!#and again I just want to say thank you to everyone #i hope you enjoy this silly little event I’ve planned <3 #i love and adore you all !!#coco hits a milestone <3

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inkstaindusk · 2 months

Note

congrats on finishing capman reki (i assume)! uhhh... i don't really have a prompt but i was curious about your pushing daisies au idea for enstars so if you'd like, maybe you could write something about it? i dunno.

(on another note, i think tumblr really likes eating notifs on my rbs of your responses to my asks? i think there's a couple questions a while back in other rb chains that might've gone poof. maybe i'll just send asks more often if you're alright with it)

Tumblr does eat a lot of notifs so yeah probably, could also be that I didn't have anything to say. But always feel free to send another ask as long as my askbox is open! Anyway, I actually HAD a thing written for pushing daisies au that I totally forgot I started so here it is kfjhsdfsd. My first thought for this was “rinne brings hiiro back to life and now he can never touch his brother again” but I thought that’d be too basic so instead I did this

“Duck!”

“Where?”

“No you idiot—Duck! Your brother is gonna walk in in five—”

Rinne dives behind the counter right before the bell chimes, signalling his brother’s entrance into the café. At the same time, Kohaku and Niki spin around to greet him.

“Good evening, Kohaku-san, Shiina-san!” comes Hiiro’s cheerful voice.

Niki’s smile only twitches a little, and he starts to say his usual “Welcome” when he’s cut off by Kohaku exclaiming, “Love-han?!”

“Kohakucchi,” says an unfamiliar, startled voice. “I didn’t know you worked in a café.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” says Hiiro.

“Yeah, we’re old friends!”

Rinne tilts his head up, as though he’d be able to look over the counter this way. Hiiro brought someone with him? Hiiro made a friend on his own? He squints up at Kohaku, noting the surprised yet pleased expression on his face. Whoever this person is, he must be something special. Rinne’s never seen that look on Kohaku’s face before. It makes him curious about what Hiiro looks like, too.

“Then I guess I only have to introduce you to Shiina-san!” Hiiro says. Rinne can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Shiina-san, this is my friend, Aira! Aira, this is Shiina Niki-san. He owns this café. Shiina-san and Kohaku-san knew my brother.”

“Shiratori Aira,” the friend, Aira, says. “Nice to meet you, Shiina-san!”

“You too,” Niki says. “How did you and Hiiro-kun meet?”

It suddenly becomes oddly silent. Niki’s professional smile falters.

“Aira picked me up after I… learned about Nii-san,” Hiiro says quietly. Rinne goes rigid. Niki’s eyes flicker downward, meeting his, before looking back up. “He helped me get back up. And now we’re roommates! He’s been teaching me a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” There’s a bit of forced cheer in his tone, but the sentiment is real.

“I haven’t done that much, Hiro-kun…”

As the two begin a stupid debate over whether or not Aira has done a lot for Hiiro, Kohaku and Niki exchange glances. They don’t look down at where Rinne hides near their feet again, and he’s grateful for it. He doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing.

It’s incredible, in a way. Rinne was the one who left the village in search of something more, only to get himself killed. Hiiro left the village to chase after him, but he’s the one who’s been able to live. He decided to stay on his own instead of returning to the village, and now he has a friend and roommate. There are probably so many things he does outside of the café that he hasn’t talked about with Kohaku and Niki. Rinne… is glad. He’s so proud of him for getting this far, for being willing to step out of the absolute obedience of their village.

And all it took was for Rinne to run away and die.

“This is a lot of food for the two of you,” Niki is saying as Rinne starts to tune back in. At some point, they had moved on to ordering food.

“Aira and I are meeting some friends soon, so we’re getting food for them too,” Hiiro says. More friends. Rinne didn’t know.

“So you want this to go?”

“Yes please!”

“Alright, it’ll be ready soon.”

“Thank you!”

Rinne takes the time to crawl into the backroom as subtly as he can. Neither Niki nor Kohaku call him out on it. There's no use in getting upset now. He made his choice—and he doesn't regret a thing.

#you can decide who brought him back to life idk #in my mind soon after this aira finds out rinne is alive and starts to go insane #like olive in season 2 #i dont know where himeru is in this scene but hes around in this au too. somewhere #enstars #rinne amagi #hiiro amagi #enstars lb #amagi rinne #amagi hiiro #asks #agried #prompt answers #drabbles #anya tries to write #fp.txt

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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So, I stumbled across your blog while I was on a Dadimus Prime kick, and your HC's about the TFP kids as sparklings and Optimus going full feral Prime to protect his kids are *chef's kiss* some of my favorites.

Out of general curiosity, have you seen the Rescue Bots series? I find it wild that this meant-for-a-younger-audience show (that makes my adult self laugh because some of the jokes slap. Also Steve Blum voices Heatwave) is in the aligned continuity.

Talk about tone whiplash. Here's Team Prime, neck deep in the war, dealing with the Cons, MECH, and limitations placed by the human government. Then there's the Rescue Bots, who basically get adopted by the Burns family, and help keep the island of Griffin Rock from either sinking into the ocean or being yeeted off the planet because either some super tech or supernatural chaos.

*spoiler for the first episode*

I mean, in a weird way, Optimus's decision to keep the Rescue Bots out the war and tucked away on Griffin Rock works well with your "These Are My Kids" HC's. I say that as when he encounters the RB group for the first time, he's shocked and kinda implies that they are the last of their kind and they seem incredibly young too, at least experience wise. Couple that with the fact that they have been in stasis before the war began, and now Optimus is probably thinking "must hide the precious innocent children." Then when he meets the Burns, "look at the adorable babies! You're in the family now! And no one can know about this island" which would explain how the others on Team Prime never talk about them, and the Cons don't go after them.

I wonder if Optimus and Chief Burns have a secret group chat that they use to gush over their kids?

*spoilers over*

Anyways, rambling aside, if you've seen the show, kudos! And if not, as a fellow Transformer fan, I recommend it.

I have actually watched some of Rescue bots. I think I made it through to season two before I got rather bored. I answered a request regarding my thoughts on the show so I won't restate what I have already put out there. But you make some excellent points.

I hadn't really thought all that hard about it, but considering the fact that I HC that Optimus is the biggest dad ever and would look at any small unaccompanied life form and adopt it... I can see him doing as you described and purposefully hiding the rescue bots away somewhere where neither bots or cons could find them because they are HIS kiddos thank you.

Optimus and Chief Burns having a group chat would be wonderful, especially if it consists of Burns sending Op pics of his rescue bots being cute and domestic all while Team Prime is fighting a brutal bloody war. I can see Optimus and his team just squashed around the console super excited whenever a message from Burns comes through. They must be so pleased to know that because of their efforts, the rescue bots can live somewhat peacefully as if there was never a war at all.

I think the pictures from Burns would be one of the few things keeping the team going. They have family to fight for, innocent and practically defenseless family.

AH! I love the thought so much! I might need to write about this in more detail later...

#lets try some writing mumbles

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disfordevineaux · 3 months

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Okay with the 2024 Player Appreciation Week in march I really want to do something, and i think my best way back in is with a pt.2 to the fic I wrote for it wayyyy back in 2022. I have some ideas on where to head with it but then it's the issue of the expandability of such and which I think will work the best.

I'll link the orginal fic here incase anyone wants a refresher and the 2024 Player Week post but here are my thoughts for a continuation of the fic:

Day 2 - Parents: Direct continuation of Pt.1

Once arriving in Argentina, Players mum finds it difficult to accept letting go of her only child, and after a while (and accidental encouragement from Player himself) ends up phoning and messaging him multiple times a day, always at the worst times, aka all the time. It all culminating in almost ruining an important mission thanks to the eventual escalation. A nice resolution, naturally, but a story about the difficulties of separation and how ignoring/distancing in contrast to the almost obsessive inability to let go, one extreme to the other, isn't the best way to process it at all.

Player POV. Players mother & Carmen, then new team ACME Ivy and Zack and possibly Julia, Chase.

Day 5 - Loyalty: Can be a separate fic or direct continuation of Pt.1

(If a seperte fic, based sometime after the 2 year jump) Chief attempts to poach Player to join her ranks now that he's officially legal to actually hire and back out after the hiatus. Chief assigns Zack & Ivy to get the 'job' done, unbeknownst to them of her actual plans. After an official approach from her senior Agents Julia and Chase and sending him all the ACME merch one could possibly need, unsurprisingly, leads to no avail. Hijinks ensue.

Player POV. Carmen vs Chief + New ACME Zack & Ivy, brief Chase and Julia.

Alt. 3 - Hacker + Day 6 - Abandonment: Direct continuation of pt.1

Due to some self reflection, Player is determined to spread his wings with his new found 'adulthood' and separate himself from being a 'simple hacker' after Carmen unintentionally gets in his head about his role in the team and maybe his lanky physique, truly, she didnt mean it. Its hard being a young adult in the big wide world, trying to make or reinvent a name for yourself. He attempts to cultivate a new 'field agent' identity, eager to get out there one-on-one and in his words; "if Zack can do it, how hard can it be?". Unfortunately underestimated the true training, experience and skill development it takes to do what Carmen does, and do it well. He ends up, quite literally and accidentally, abandoned in a foreign country after failing to make it to the pick up location. With Player on the ground and off his perch, his tech destroyed, AI failing to fill his 'old' position, Player has to hope that he can either turn the drastically crappy situation around, manufacture a 'run in' with ACME or he will probably fall into the remnants of VILE's grip he barely avoided to dodge in the first place.

Player POV. Carmen, non disclosed VILE agents & Maybe ACME.

This is what I got. Or at least the best ideas I have that have a bit a meat to em. I'm open for a discussion on what y'all would want to read the most. I'm open for anything, Rbs, direct msgs on the post or to be me are totally welcome. ♡

#player appreciation week #csplayerweek2024 #csplayerappreciationweek2024 #playerappreciationweek #carmen sandiego #cs 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego 2019 #cs Player #player bouchard #disfordevineaux #chase devineaux #julia argent #cs ivy #cs zack

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daychiie · 4 months

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For the manga ask: 1, 11 and 17

HIIII HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

AND ALSO THANKS FOR NOT ONLY SENDING ME A ASK BUT SENDING ME THIS TWICE SINCE I ACCIDENTALLY BLOWED UP THE FIRST TIME TEEHEE <3 <3 <3 odeio escrever coisa pelo celular augghh

Anyway I'm answering those questions here!!!

1. Your top 5 reads of 2023

Meme for symmetry lol

No Home - NO HOME MY BELOVED MY BESTIE NO HOME,HOW IT CAN BE SO WELL WRITTEN IT MAKES ME INSANE BRO... COMICS OF ALL TIME. I have no words to explain... I do want one day stop being a coward and write out some analysis on it, buuut--oh well~~

Dungeon Meshi - I got into the party almost "too late". Well, I don't really believe that starting something after if finished is getting into it too late,but I do get that you lose some experiences if you get into something late than other... And in my case I got into it some weeks before it officially ended lmao. Always heard about it and finally gave a try, it's extremely funny and charming, can't wait for the anime this week :]

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun - I saw the anime back when it was releasing, enjoyed it and...that was it. Hoped for season two (kinda still wish for it),but yeah... Then finally said fuck it and OHH IT GETS SO MUCH BETTER. LIKE ITS NOT THAT THE ANIME IS BAD BY ANY MEANS BUT WELL...it only covered one part of it and it always keep getting funnier and funnier! Wakamatsu is so much more insane and dumb... The characters we never got to met there. I do have some issue here and there but in general I have a pretty fun time :]

Ikoku Nikki - yeah maybe sometimes see that something gonna end next week really pushes me to read it lol. Anyway I do want to re read again sometime soon,but it was a very emotional read!! Makio women of all time, a aro icon <3 she everything!!!!

After School Lessons for Unripe Apples - another fun read!!! Don't think I have too much thoughts but I really enjoy Mi-ae and Cheol dynamic <3

Just making clear that in this top 5 I put stuff I started reading in 2023,so like ... No Skip to Loafer here lol even thought I enjoyed the new chapters that were released in 2023,in the rules my head made it didn't count lmao.

11. Your favorite covers

Suddenly I actually never read anything in 2023 :) GJJSAJFN ok guess Hirayasumi covers are very neat!!! I love the painting of it.

But yeah I noticied I remember chapter covers much more than I remember volume covers, so originally I was going to show some of my favorite chapter covers...but then 10 photos limit. Even thought I was sure nowdays is 30 idk if its because I'm stuck in mobile but whatever,I spend two hours looking covers on my phone I gonna show it on a rb or something lmao

17. A manga you didn’t expect to like

Hmnm ... I don't remember lmao. Like at least not anything that I felt that extremely "omg what pleasant surprise!!!!!" ? The best I could think of is kisses x kiss x kisses that ...well does have a cringe name that kinda put you expectations at low I guess lol

It's nothing amazing, it's a finished romance comic, that is very sweet. I liked the contrast of the protagonist and his love interest being like, boy with big family all living together and boy that lives alone with parents in another country lol. It is a cliche and not gonna pretend they do anything groundbreaking with it, but it's still a nice storyline. Lowkey big spoilers ahead I guess but: I liked that while the protagonist dream of living completely alone changed a little (cause come on its a fluffy romance lol), he still got separates room cause he does want be able to experience and enjoy not sharing a room,having more privacy and stuff. It's kinda small overall, but it's nice that his dream and his goals didn't do a complete change because of love.

#daychiie talks #my laptop giving up on me on new years...so sad... aug aguhhh #PORRA MANO ESCREVER PELO CELULAR FAZ EU ME SENTIR NUMA JAULA AUGHHRNFJSJSJ #but yeay thanks for the ask wawhahwh #now i only have other of those to reply hehe #i feel kinda bad talking so much lol

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itsstrange · 2 years

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The Song

Fandom: Supernatural, The Boys

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: So this idea came to me right when I heard the song, I’m not joking it just came to my mind and I immediately thought about turning this into a fic. I debated on who it should be based on but Ackles was the only one I actually imagined in this so… hope y’all like it!

Also I wanna apologize in advance if this feels like it’s all over the place, I’ve never done something like this so sorry if it’s up and down, but other than that hope y’all like it!

Summary: Forgetting someone is never easy, especially when you still love them. So what’s a better way than to write a song about it.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: (None) Heartbreak, Angst, Lots of It,

————

Enjoy! 💔

————

——————

He had just finished filming and had just stepped into his trailer when he found out what the whole fuss was about it. The stares and side comments began around midnight, he didn’t think much about it, but as soon as the looks came his way his phone began buzzing in his pocket. After checking to see it wasn’t an important call he ignored the notifications like usual. If it wasn’t important than it can wait after work. However, once he got off from work he noticed the notifications upon notifications from Instagram, Twitter and variety of different people tagging him were displayed in front of his screen. Now normally, he’d just brush it off, thinking it was just fans tagging him to old pictures of him and the cast, fan art, or just edited videos fans have made of him, but what caught his attention was a tweet from Twitter.

Mentioned by @DeansPudding:

@(Y/U/N)‘s new song is definitely about @JensenAckles and everyone can fight me on this but y’all agree too!

Her name alone is what made him click on the notification without any hesitation, taking him directly to her tweet that she had shared a couple hours ago. Which only had a blue link on top with a ‘Out Now’ at the bottom of the link. Just as he was seconds away from clicking on the link, Jared sends him a message, only had a link as well before another message appears on top of his screen.

Jared:

Listen.

Is all the message said. And if he was being honest..he was starting to get nervous.

With new hesitation settling in his chest, his fingers hover over the link for a good minute or so. Inhaling deeply through his nose he taps on the link the same time he exhales out his mouth. His anxiety, nerves, settled in his chest as he waits for the YouTube app to open up, and his anxiety wasn’t getting any better the longer it took to start up.

Seriously, the internet had to crash now? Out of all days, it had to do it now?

As he was anxiously cursing at the internet he finally sees the screen turn into a black and white music video. His breath gets stuck in his throat when he sees her black figure on the screen, the camera slowly making its way to where she sat on a window seat with a guitar in her hands. Then before he knows it, a smooth, soft, RB&B guitar riff starts playing through his phone, invading his ear drums and feeling the way his chest tightens when he finally hears her beautiful voice singing the first verse of her song, immediately sending him back to two weeks ago as she shares her point of view.

******

‘Met your new girl at Johnny’s party.

I had to smile and say, “What Up”

They both sat on the couch with other friends, drinks in each other’s hands as they listened to Rob share some of his drunk stories when they were in Rome, and just having a good time when Jensen suddenly averts his eyes towards the kitchen when he hears people greeting each other, but what made him do a double take was her smiling and hugging Genevieve. His eyes not once leaving her frame, which catches Megan’s attention and notices the way his eyes are on her.

Now they were both staring at her greeting everyone with a smile, a smile he absolutely fell for, a smile he didn’t know he would miss even after months of being apart, but the more he stared at her, admired her smile from a distance that sinking feeling settling in his chest. Then feeling it drop down to the pit of his stomach when she finally meets his gaze.

He watches the way she stops dead in her tracks when she meets his eyes, then notices how she switches her eyes next to him, and only feeling the entire room become tense.

But knowing her too well, she does what she always does, she walks into the room with her head held high up and plastered another smile as she greets everyone in the room. After saving them for last, she finally makes her way towards them, same smile still on her face, but he can see through it, it wasn’t sincere. She hadn’t even reached him yet when he got up from the couch, dropping Megan’s hand from his lap in the process.

“Hey Jensen,” She softly greets him with that same, sad, pained smile,

One he shares as well.

“H-Hey…(Y/n),” He slightly winches from the way his voice sounds forced, but it was understandable right? He wasn’t expecting her to attend the party, from what friends told him she was supposed to be out on tour, not here, standing in front of him with the most painful smile,

Seconds felt like minutes—hours, as they silently stared at each other. Tension and awkwardness surrounding them as they stood face to face since their breakup. If it wasn’t for the music playing throughout the house, everyone in the damn house would have felt it. Luckily, she was the first to break it by averting her (E/c) eyes behind his shoulder.

“Hi, you must be Megan,” She says as she extends a respected hand for her to shake,

Even if she felt as if her skin was burning as she shakes the others hand and feeling the way that old wound begins tearing apart once again. It took everything inside of her to not break in front of them, but with the little strength she still had she fought through it and did her best to keep the smile on her face. Especially when she lets go of her hand and watches the way Megan wraps her hand on the inner part of his elbow.

Thankfully, she sees a couple more familiar faces behind them and uses that as an excuse to save her from the moment.

“Gonna go say hi. It was nice meeting you,” She widens her smile as much as she can as she stares at her then slightly drops it when she averts her gaze towards his green ones, “It was nice seeing you again Jensen,”

He slowly nods his head with a small, sad smile, “Yeah.. yeah you too,”

Smiling at them both once more she excuses herself and makes her way towards Briana and Ruth, not once looking back when she can still feel his eyes on her.

‘Then I ran my ass to the bathroom.

So I could cry about old love.

She stood in front of the mirror, hands gripping onto the sink as the tears spilled down her cheeks, staining them with eyeliner. After she had greeted the small circle of familiar people, she had excused herself, however, the moment she turned around to head towards the bathroom the tears had already started sliding down her cheeks, making her drop her face down to the floor, doing her best to avoid any looks as she quickly makes her way towards the bathroom. Not realizing how his eyes were watching her the whole way.

The moment she shut the door behind her and locked it, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The pain that she thought she had healed from had came crashing down on her ten times harder as it did the first time and feeling the way a hand settles on her chest where the pain was. Soft broken sobs escaped from her as she leaned against the door, her other free hand reaching up to cover her mouth to prevent any other loud noises from slipping, even if music played outside the door she doesn’t know who can be walking by and catch a glimpse of a wail coming from the other side of the door. So, she covers her mouth as sobs after sobs pour out of her.

The pain in her heart was becoming unbearable to the point where she felt herself wanting to slide down the door and onto the ground, but gathering some strength she manages to push herself towards the sink, where she grips onto it and lets the tears fall down. She stays there for another minute, just letting the tears slip, letting everything she’s been holding for the past couple months out now, she needed it, until she began gathering herself. Closing her eyes she tries taking in deep breaths, but the moment she did an image of them two together flashes behind her eyes causing more pain and tears, but even then she still tries to control herself.

Inhaling deeply through her nose with eyes still closed, she exhales with a shudder. She does it a couple more times until the tears stop coming down, once she slightly controls herself she looks at herself through the mirror, observing her bloodshot eyes for a couple seconds before wiping away any makeup from underneath her eyes as she walks towards the door.

‘I came back in with makeup smudged up,

You caught me wipe it quick low-key,

And then you got this weak ass smile up on your face,

As if to say you’re sorry it couldn’t be me

Jensen was playing with the label of his beer bottle, not listening to the conversation that was around them, he was too lost in thought. He honestly couldn’t stop thinking of her, and he shouldn’t be with Megan next to him but he just couldn’t help to wonder how she was doing, if she really did move on and if he read her smile completely wrong. Because honestly, he hadn’t moved on, and that alone was bringing guilt up his chest. He didn’t know it until he actually saw her once again face to face.

As he was peeling the sticker from his bottle he glances up when Jared starts talking and adding on to the conversation, and that was when his eyes land back on her frame coming out of the restroom. His heart dropping, shattering at her state, and then having a small sad smile on his face when he watches her wipe away the smeared makeup from her under her eye.

She hasn’t moved on.

Making him feel some sort of relief but also pain to know she’s still hurting, even after all these months being apart, she was still hurting, and he honestly wished it wasn’t her who was hurting as much.

‘Wish I could be your friend,

And not hurt as so bad,

Wish I could be your friend,

And not hurt so bad, yeah

I search the room looking for solace,

You know whiskey always helps me,

Then we lock eyes as I start pouring,

Obviously, I’m not doing well,

But we can’t talk ‘cause it ain’t appropriate,

And she knows exactly who I am,

His green eyes follows her frame as she makes her through people, head slightly looking down to avoid anyones eyes, but still waves with a short smile at people who greet her. He watches her glancing around the room for couple seconds before she finally makes her way towards the kitchen. Standing behind the counter he observes her scanning the bottles in front of her, before she finally reaches out for a red cup and the Daniels bottle. Unscrewing the cap she begins pouring its brown liquid into her cup, then without meaning to she looks up, immediately locking eyes with him and feeling her body freezing when she finds him already staring at her.

She hadn’t realize it, she was too busy doing her best in keeping her red puffy eyes away from any else’s, but she didn’t realize how he has been watching her since she’s arrived. She also didn’t realize how he had already figured her out, he knew she wasn’t well, but what she didn’t know was how much it killed him that he couldn’t get up from his spot to go and speak to her, just the same she couldn’t walk up to him, it was killing them both without the other knowing.

‘She pulls you close and tells you maybe y’all should go,

And then she smiles at me,

She smiles because she can,

From the moment she had walked into the party, Megan felt the way the air around them instantly changed, and it was honestly difficult to breathe, at least that’s how she felt. Especially when she saw the way Jensen, her boyfriend of two months, couldn’t seem to avert his eyes away from her, everywhere she was, his eyes would follow, and it honestly tore at her heart, even more now when she had came out from the restroom with smudged makeup, letting her know she still hadn’t moved on and with a knowing feeling, she knew Jensen felt the same way. She didn’t want to, she really didn’t, but the way his whole expression switched and the way he couldn’t avert his eyes just made the feeling stronger.

So with a jealousy, angry heart she pulls him close to her and whispers into his ear, “We should start heading out,”

That finally made him drop his eyes from her to stare at Megan. He stared into her dark blue eyes for a couple seconds, and noticing then whatever he had felt for her was not there anymore, but with a hesitation he nods his head at her. She doesn’t say anything else, just switches her gaze to her and smiles, a smile that wasn’t real nor sincere. Then she makes her way towards everyone to give her farewells, while Jensen stood from his position, but again kept his eyes on her. Who took a big gulp from her drink before pouring another and leaving the kitchen, disappearing from his sight.

Jensen’s eyes drop to the ground, feeling that same old pain in the center of his chest when the memory of her leaving his door replayed in his mind, he should have gone after her, stopped her and should have begged her to stay, but he didn’t. He stayed back, and now he doesn’t have the privilege to go after her.

He lost it all that night.

*******

‘Wish I could be your friend,

And not hurt so bad,

Wish I could be your friend,

And not hurt, hurt so bad.’

Once the bridge starts coming to an end, the music video slowly starts fading into a black screen, but her raw voice humming the melody was still heard, until eventually that fades away as well. The moment it does, Jensen let’s out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding throughout the whole song, but he did notice the way it came out in a shaky way and also noticing how his hand, the one that was holding his phone was also trembling.

He honestly wasn’t expecting that. He’s heard various songs from her, has loved nearly most of them, but this… this was different. He knew she was never one to release a personal song, especially when it was intimate things like family members, or in other words, relationships, and now that she did it made him feel.. different. He honestly didn’t know what he was feeling at the moment other than… guilt, or was it pain? Was he hurting? Hurting at the fact that he knows he still fucking loves her?

Fuck. Jensen closes his eyes that have become a bit glossy, and covers his face with his hands, feeling the way the tears slowly slide down his cheeks at the knowing feeling in his heart. He still fucking loves her.

He always has, not once did he stop loving her, but it was too painful to remember their old love, so Jensen began dating again to push it aside and move on. At first it wouldn’t work, but after a while he told himself to believe it, and believe it he did. Until now, he understood it was all a lie to keep him from feeling the pain of loving her, but now that he knows she still feels something for him and hasn’t been able to move on, it gave some sort of hope, relief, and he wanted nothing more than to prove to her he still loves her the same way, but he couldn’t. He was still with Megan, or at least he thinks so, they haven’t spoken to each other for three days after some fight.

But he knew Megan wasn’t the one he’d rather have a fight with over small or big things, and in that moment he knew it was her. It was always her and with a shaky exhale, Jensen gets up from his seat and heads out his trailer with one thing in his mind.

He was going after her.

———————

-Hope y’all enjoyed this one! I certainly enjoyed writing this one.

-Ngl I finished this in under 2 days, so that proves that I was in the zone for this one lol.

-Anyways make sure to Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more updates!!

And Uhhhh….. Part 2???

———————

#supernatural imagine #supernatural #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #the boys #the boys imagine #SoundCloud

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cryingteacup · 9 months

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haiii!!! :3 ik youre into creepypasta and ive seen you rb some tf2 stuff, im curious what your thoughts on some of the characters interacting would be? please do not feel any obligation to answer this if you dont want to/dont have time to!!!! i love your content and think youre really cool :DD

Omg!! Thank you so much :))))))

I am so totally down to talk about this tysm again 4 sending such a good ask

(i was way to lazy to draw them by hand so forgive me lolz)

So my hc is that the slender mansion is like an actual place and is like the creepypasta base of operations.

Slenderman is the boss and he gives them orders that they follow in exchange for food and shelter and keeping them alive way past their expiration date lolz

Slender man is also the one who gave them super natural powers (faster healing, agility, precision, the things that make them essentially invincible) and caused them to go kinda cookoo bananas. So he isn't very close with any of the creepypasta and they resent him.

There are 3 groups

The killers (plus ben)

Proxys

Those guys

The killers (plus ben)

Consists of jeff the killer, jane the killer, nina the killer and ben drowned.

Jeff the killer and jane the killer are ALWAYS attacking each other but also somehow best friends. There was an incident where jeff ate janes leftover Chinese takeout, even though there was her name on it. In response jane broke a chair over his head, screamed at him for an hour and a half pushed him out the window when he tried to run away and made him vomit it out by force feeding him salt water.

2 hours later they made a gas station run together because they ran out of poptarts.

Nina never really got over her thing for jeff which made things in the group a little awkward at first, but its now just something that they use against her as a joke.

Nina: hey did you.. do something to your hair

Jeff: oh yeah i just clipped my bangs

Jeff: why are you making that fac-

Nina: it looks like shit

Jeff: so does that knock off smile you fucking copy cat (in tears)

Nina:😐

Jeff: exactly stfu( curled up in a ball)

...

Ben is just kinda there, he plays overwatch with Jeff so they're very close but he does really know anyone else in the gang very well. He probably could know jane and nina better but he is very chronically online and would not know where to start to have a conversation with someone.

I wasn't sure whether i should add liu or not because i dont feel like he'd be very close to tk+ ben gang. I think he'd probably hang around because jeff is his older brother but other than that i don't think hed enjoy it very much

...

Im going to reblog this with the other groups later ( i am cringe but i am free ) tysm again 4 sending in an ask!

#creepypasta #creepypasta hc #jeff the killer #ben drowned #jane the killer #homicidal liu #jtk headcanons #jeff the killer hc #slender man #slender mansion

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astrobei · 11 months

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This is kind of an odd question, but since you seem to have done it very successfully and I have no clue: How do you make friends online?

I always see people on here talking about their mutuals and about their online friends, and some of that’s def survivorship bias, but I’m guessing I’m not alone in having no clue how to get from recognizing someone’s username to having them be a person I would talk to about a bad day?

Anyway, this continues to be a weird ask so answer it any way you want and no worries if it takes a while, but yeah, with all the posts about you and haven meeting up I am just looking for advice on *how*

Ty so much!

hi hi hi hello!! i’ve actually gotten asks like this before and i’m so sorry 2 everyone who’s sent one bc i’m afraid i don’t have a super concise or helpful way to answer this,,, (but i’ll still try lol)

to be so so honest with you, i got super lucky because i was introduced to a lot of my friends in this fandom through group chats or mutuals’ discord servers that other people have added me to, which i know is kind of a lame answer because being added to gcs/others’ servers is not exactly something u can control … but you are so right in saying that you’re not alone in feeling like this !! i know so many people feel intimidated by the idea of making friends on here especially since there Are so many users i associate as groups and it seems like everyone has Those Friends (me included, i’ll admit) and it’s probably easier said than done because i did get lucky enough to meet a lot of my now-close friends rn through ao3/comments/writers’ gcs way back in the summer or fall 😗 it also definitely takes time to get close to someone in this way, and these friendships are not something that happened overnight, even for me !! i feel like it’s easy to get stressed out by the potential of every new mutual/friend you make being The Friend and that can put a lot of pressure on both you and the other person to be super compatible right off the bat, so on and so forth, which isn’t fair and will probably lead to more disappointment than anything, so i think it’s important to remember that (almost?) no solid friendship goes from 0-100 overnight and it takes time to build trust and emotional connection with anyone!

so i would say . basically . if you’ve stayed this long and all of this rambling that my biggest pieces of advice would be:

1. fr and honestly just go for it. like you said, i know so many people feel the exact same way as you do, so send that mutual you admire an ask or a dm!! every friendship has got to start somewhere so if you see them rb an ask game maybe send something nice or maybe if you see a post that reminds u of them send it to them ! i’ve made a couple of my closest friends because we sent each other asks a lot before moving to dms -> other platforms, or people have just dm’d me directly out of the blue and i was surprised by how well we clicked !! these are maybe lame examples but. u get the idea lol. Just Do It i believe in u 🥳

2. be patient !! i know i already said it before but close friendships, like the ones you’re talking about, rarely happen overnight. even with people i’ve felt a connection with immediately, it’s taken some time for us to really get comfortable with each other and past that awkward stage so it’ll likely take some dedication and commitment to communication on both your parts! something i would like to emphasize: don’t make friends purely out of strong expectations of being Best Friends because, again, this could lead to a lot of disappointment when someone doesn’t live up to expectations you’ve created In Your Head. find people you really click with and genuinely enjoy talking to, and maybe see eventually if they’d want to move from talking through asks to dms to discord/text!

ummmm. i think that’s all i have to say on the topic, hopefully this wasn’t too disappointing to read because again, i’m not too sure how to organize my thoughts on the subject LOL but i’m wishing you all the best and i’m promising u that almost everyone in this community feels the same way !! make the first move/respond when someone maybe makes the first move to you + take it slow + be kind and patient and you will have friends lining up in ur dms to talk to u 🫡much much love !! 🫶🏽

#this was so long #and mostly incoherent i’m so sorry #to be honest i can’t rly pinpoint how i became friends w my friends it just Happened #but like. it takes time #even w people i’ve gotten comfortable w over dms Fast #it’s still taken time to get to the point where we talk every day and tell each other abt bad days etc #any relationship takes time to flourish and for you to get comfortable so don’t be discouraged if it doesn’t happen right away!#mwah mwah sending hugs your way #🫂#/ask

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