Forcing Yourself To Love The Little Things.

have you ever been in love?

then you understand that you cannot fall out of it.

you’re arms are a hole and i know that there’s a way out

somewhere.

but loving you is a comfort that

I don’t want to part from to look.

— Warsan Shire

ABT ME

name ; nvrhere fav things ; myself , writing age ; 22 posting ; teen wolf, supernatural, IWTV , myself , adhd rambles

dude finding dropboxes of deleted sterek fics sent me into a whole different state of mind…

like the number count of this tag on ao3 is NOT real!! there are so many fics out there and so many of us that still fucking love this ship

IN 2024??

like the amount of wips I have.. and that other people do too. we just need somewhere to put our love for them.

anyways, i might just have to create a sterek library site.

//TW//Ab*se, M*rder//

G*ps* R*se is honestly a better person than me, cause my mom would have to beg to only have those stab wounds to part earth with.

She would’ve personally been fed every drop of medicine left from that big ass pantry from my own hand. I would’ve made sure she wouldn’t feel a thing in any of her muscles expect the brain. And rest assured, she’d be parked in that wheelchair in front of loud ass cartoons until she kills herself from lunacy.

She got off too fucking easy. Mental abuse is a killer; a million times more deadly than physical abuse the way it burns on your soul for your entire life. The lights look different, you can hear them buzz louder. Footsteps aren’t just soft padded noises, they come down like thunder and they match your heartbeat. You feel suffocated, trapped, in a cycle of betraying them or yourself. You are never the victim even when you so very much are.

The PTSD is the same, I guess. You flinch at movement, have nightmares, search for a way out in every space you occupy, think of the entire conversation and rehearse it over and over before they happen, and you never feel alone.

G*ps* is luckier in a way. Her abuser messed up by letting her feel too unloved, and the guilt that bitches life was floating on sunk, hard.

entangled!

ALSO DOES THIS NOT SEEM LIKE DEREK AND STILES TO YOU? IS THAT WHO I AM NOW? LIKE FROM COMFORT CHARACTER TO BECOMING HIM?

It’s like the yin to my yang.

- Sylvia Plath

wincestiel this, wincestiel that, but have you ever considered Dean using Castiel to get at Sam.

He goads him into his first kiss and uses his baby brother as a means for practice. I mean shit- Sammy can kiss, okay? He’s no virgin.

Cas is trusting, trusts no one but Dean so he lets himself be lured in. Thrusting his tongue into Sam’s small mouth under Deans heavy gaze. He gives them pointers here and there.

Sam’s neck is arched up all sexy. Moles and strain evident as its muscles move with his lips. Dean has to put his mouth on it. They’re all just fooling around, it’s nothing weird. Think of it as a little added fun.

Suddenly it’s Deans tongue in sam’s mouth as he lays it all on him and they’re horizontal on the bed. Humping at each other like dogs. Fucking each other everywhere, especially brain-wise.

They come up for air and Cas isn’t even in the room anymore. It’s just heavy panting and belt buckles clinking as they pack up their spent dicks.

It’s another motel the next time it happens, and it’s just the two of them.

"One day I will get over them I swear"

*Looks at the 200+ open ao3 tabs*

what if, instead of texting you, i just talk here and fantasize about you reading it?

i imagine you stumbling upon this and realizing that i still love you. i mean, it’s right here! on this post! made just for you!

everything i write these days is for you.

everything thought i make has your smile in it. buried between letters and my fingers moving to tap on this keyboard. it’s to the rhythm of your heart.

bump, bump, bump.

mine is speeding up, if you are reading this of course. i can see you shocked still- swiping to our messages at the bottom of your logs, hovering over your own letters.

do you remember my face enough? can you capture it like i do yours?

god your heart is still beating in my head. i remember after our first kiss, i laid my ear against your chest and heard it for the first time.

bump, bump, bump,,,,

and it never. stopped.

come home to me

or at least

write me a letter