Request: Hey I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do a deanxreader imagine based off Meghan Trainor’s new song called Title… Thanks!!:)
Word Count: 572
Thank you! Here it is, I hope you like itJ
“Nah, we’re just friends.”
You’re sick of hearing that. It’s every night, some…harlot comes over, practically throwing her oversized breasts in Dean’s face. It makes you mad. He generally excuses himself to go hook up with her in some dark alleyway.
There’s a reason you avoid the back seat of the Impala as much as possible.
You laugh it off, taking another sip of your whiskey.
“Have fun, Dean.” You say, allowing the tiniest tinge of venom to drip into your tone. You evacuate to the table of the (admittedly cute) guy who’s been making eyes at you all night. “I’m Y/N. How are you doing?”
He chuckles, his blue eyes dancing, “Hey, I’m good. Trouble in paradise over there?”
“Piss off, we’re just friends.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs.
“Oosh, I see what you mean.” He glances over at the girl, then back to you. “For the record, you’re far more attractive than she is.”
You giggle, “Thanks.”
You get chatting and he’s actually a pretty nice guy. A year older than you, single, studying medicine in the local university.
“Hey, Y/N.” You hear an almost strained voice behind you. “Come on, we’re going home.”
“You might be.” You say simply.
“No, we both are.”
He literally grabs your upper arm and pulls you from the bar. You protest vehemently, irritated. Once you get outside, he lets you go.
“What the Hell, Dean?”
“What were you doing with him?” He asks sharply.
“Uh…chatting? Maybe a little bit of playful flirting?”
“He’s bad news.” He says instantly. You fold your arms.
“How would you know?”
“I just do, okay?”
You pause for a moment, then laugh bitterly.
“You’re jealous!” You’re as surprised as he looks. He folds his arms but doesn’t deny it. “That is so unfair! You can eye-screw every girl in the place but as soon as I talk to one guy you’re up in arms?”
“It’s not like that.” He says, but you narrow your eyes.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s exactly like that.” You mutter, “And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being ‘just a friend’ because you and I know that it’s not exactly right any more, is it? Just tell me if you’re not interested, I’ll go or whatever, but… I don’t want to be hovering in the middle anymore!” You explode. His eyes widen considerably and he stares at you.
“I just saw you as one of the guys, you just… you’re like us. You drink and cuss and fight and I guess I just…”
“Started seeing me as a guy. I see what you’re saying. Put it this way, alright?” You say, looking into his eyes, “I’m not going to hang around if there’s nothing here. There’s no point. I know it’s easy for you to just hook up every now and then, whenever you want, but if that’s all you want, I’m going.”
“You can’t threaten that.”
“I can and am. It’s your choice, okay? I just… I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”
His lips are on yours before you can say anything else and he backs up so you’re pressed against the outside wall of the bar. People look as they walk down the street but neither of you care.
Request: in need of a pick up right now (feelin so tired of everything), can you write a fluffy sam imagine where she comes home from school and starts crying infront of him and stuff, can you include the line “I’m so tired, sam. i can’t bare it.” in too? thank you
Word Count: 587
I’m sorry you’re feeling like that. My inbox is always open if you need to talk or anything. Thank you and I hope you like itJ
As soon as you get into the bunker, you drop your bag on the floor and head for the kitchen. You pour a large glass of water and lean against the countertop.
“Hey, Y/N.” Sam approaches you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist. “How was your day?”
You sigh, struggling to breathe against the deadweight settled in your chest, “It was…alright.” You say quietly. He frowns at you, concerned.
“You sure? You seem down.”
“Maybe I am, a little.” You try to brush him off, but he’s not giving up that easy.
“You want to talk about it?” He asks, pulling away and moving to your side.
You shrug, “Not really.”
“I’m always here for you, you know.” He tells you. You run a hand through your hair.
“It’s just so hard, Sam. I’m so different to them.” You whisper, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “They don’t get it. They’re all off getting pissed on a weekend and I’m killing things that they don’t know exist. I don’t want to be there.”
He watches you for a moment, “I know what it’s like.”
“I can’t do it anymore!” You insist, “I want to drop out.”
“You know you can’t do that.” He says softly, “You need an education.”
“I don’t want an education! I probably won’t make it out of this anyway, what does it matter?” You say, frustratedly wiping a tear from your cheek.
“You’re getting out. We’re getting out together, remember? It’s only a few more years.” He tries to console you. You shake your head.
“I- I’m a freak! I’m that kid who has no family to talk of, who keeps a knife in her boot and always wears weird clothes which may or may not be slightly bloodstained, I’m the kid with no friends, I’m that kid. That girl.”
“Oh, Y/N. You’re so much more than that.”
“Not to them! And the teachers, they don’t get it at all! They’re a bunch of useless, unsympathetic, downright cruel monsters.”
“Not even one nice teacher?” He asks quietly. You shake your head violently.
“I’m so tired, Sam.” You whisper, tear after tear falling down your face, “I can’t bear it anymore.”
You never give up. He knows that. You stick things out ‘til the end, no matter what it takes. This is new. He’s never seen this from you, the resentment, the hopelessness, the despair.
He doesn’t say anything, only pulls you tight to him. You bury your face in the warm familiarity of his chest and he stays quiet, rubbing your back soothingly.
“Hey, don’t worry. It always gets better, I promise.” He mumbles, letting you cry into his chest. “It will be fine. I know what you’re feeling and I know how hard it is. Look at me, I turned out okay!” He offers. You can’t help but laugh.
He scoffs, pretending to be insulted. “Alright. I love you too. But listen to me, okay?” He bends down, holding your cheek tenderly so you look at him. “You’re amazing. And if they don’t see it, it’s their loss. Don’t think about them. They’re nothing. I know it’s hard to be different. But you don’t want to be the same either.”
He leans in and touches his lips to yours gently. “If they give you any crap, tell me. I’ll turn up and beat the shit out of them, you hear me?”
You only laugh and nod. It wouldn’t help but the reassurance is nice. It’s nice to have him.
me: ‘this is it this is it they’re testing my last limits it cant get any worse’
Troy: *comes forward*
me: 'thsiis. Itj this j.is it bteyr'ud tesitng mym lqka st limiyess it caejnnt get any wor s e fndi’
things I didn’t go into the harley quinn tag to see:
daddy kink posts that have literally nothing to do with harley
random selfies of gothy folks with eyeliner, not cosplaying or anything, just folks who think people who want to see harley will probably want to see them also. The selfies look great, but they’re wrong about me wanting to see them.
meta about how harley could never live without the joker even though the original harley canonically retired from crime and raised a family with a strict no-tolerance-for-villainy policy well into her grandma years after the joker’s death
harley/deadpool, like, what is wrong with you
“art by unknown” it’s pretty but do you know how much I can’t reblog it
j*red l*to’s creepy-ass face with quotes from heath ledger’s joker superimposed over it
how many boobs-butt-post fanarts can y’all draw
seriously you can’t just post pictures of j*red l*to and tag them “harley quinn” like you know he’s not playing her right