#*happiest but their world has yet to go to shit

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[giantkillerjack]

This is the kind of shitty trope that can only be worth anything but a purposeful and mindful inversion of the trope, which not everyone can pull off well, though I believe it is possible.

Another separate example of a shitty harmful trope that only truly becomes worth anything when it is inverted is the trope of "a timeskip has happened, and now to show that the character has turned into a pathetic disgusting loser, they have become FAT." -- This is my least favorite trope of all time, and it genuinely makes me lose some of my will to live.

But the inversion of that trope is like the end of the novel series my wife is writing, in which there is a timeskip and the main character is now chubby -- and this is framed as a clear sign of healing and growth for this character who has been underweight and malnourished for 3 books up til now!! -- As a fat person trying to recover from an eating disorder, this makes me feel seen and happy and loved! (I LOVE MY WIFE.)

Similarly, with the "disability reveal illiciting fear and pity" thing, it's like @cripplecharacters said: the issue is the fear and pity, especially when framed as an obvious and natural reaction from neutral or good characters.

And now before I list some ideas for inverting the trope, I wanna give the caveat that if you are not representing a disability that you have, you should first and foremost ask yourself why you want a remarkable reveal of the character's disability in the story in the first place:

-- What function does it serve? What feeling is it meant to evoke from the audience? (Fear, pity, shock, or disgust = bad answers.) Is this a matter of making disability a spectacle[bad]? Is this a matter of body horror[very bad in relation to disability]?? or is it a genuine educated attempt to represent someone from a community you aren't a part of[has the potential to be okay]???

Ideas for inversions:

The people expressing shock/pity/disgust/fear are explicitly framed as FUCKING ASSHOLES for doing this, who are eventually INVALIDATED by the larger narrative, which is committed to proving them to be in the wrong by centering the disabled character as a hero. -- The disabled character is a bigger character than any of the assholes, with their own inner life, active agency in the story, and pain response to being treated poorly. Perhaps they make the assholes look like ignorant fools in the very same scene! (Note: if you are representing a community you are not a part of, this kind of nasty prejudice is NOT OKAY TO PUT IN JUST FOR ~FLAVOR~. You need to have something to SAY about it with your storytelling beyond "isn't that just so sad that some people are mean to cripples??", or else you're a hack for ***exposing your disabled readers to a painful reflection of their own trauma for no good reason.***)

The disabled character has their own inner life and active agency in the story; and when they reveal their disability, it is met with delight and excitement - perhaps by another major character with a disability who feels pride and comradery over this in their current situation.

It's possible to have a good scene where someone reacts wrongly with pity/ignorance to a disabled character, and then the disabled character (a full character who is in the story for more than just this purpose) carefully and generously explains why this is harmful -- with the ableist character apologizing and meaningfully changing their behavior. But tbh it is more likely that this will end up as a stilted and unnecessary scene if you are not a disabled person yourself. Especially if you aren't consulting actual disabled people.

There is no grand reveal, but rather a simple acceptance and even celebration of disability. Characters have totally awesome wheelchairs; people with scars and unusual body types have loving partners and active sex lives; characters are not considered unworthy of being the story's hero just because they are disabled!

The Jaws Effect is dangerous and even deadly, but the flip side of that coin is GOOD representation for us, in which we get to be full characters that have hopes and dreams and fears outside of just being disabled setpieces for abled characters to react to!

If showing wheelchair users as inherently miserable only serves to make real wheelchair users actually miserable because abled people end up thinking that our lives are hell and therefore we need endless harmful "hLep" and dangerously dehumanizing pity that veers into eugenics......

Then the opposite of that would be to show how FULL our lives can be! How we are still entire complex humans, who don't need to be magically turned into abled people to remain a part of the story!! Our chairs are GOOD and offer FREEDOM, and showing a wheelchair user going about their life and being part of the story can go a long way towards communicating that, even without focus on the disability itself as part of the narrative!

How could I do a "classic disabled reveal" (Example: The guy reveals that he has a mechanical limb and the spectators feel pity/scared) in a better way, without using the tiring tropes and drama?

The thing is, you can't.

The tired trope and the drama, is, in fact, the 'pity' and the 'fear' spectators feel at seeing a disabled person and a sign of their disability.

That is what's tired, not the dramatic moment of the reveal. The reveal itself is whatever.

The tired trope is that disabilities and signs of them are something you should be scared of, that you should pity, that you shouldn't be seeing or have them being shown to you.

And this trope is not harmless, and it hurts real disabled people in the real world. It extends to people's feelings about real disabled people, the way they treat real disabled people. It contributes to thinking that disability is something inherently scary, bad, and required to hide. Disability is neutral, not the end of the world.

Someone having a disability is not automatically scary nor something to pity. Someone having a visible disability is not automatically scary nor something to pity. Disabled people are just people living life. Disability is a part of their life, our life.

Here is a post on the "Jaws Effect." Please read it and take it into consideration.

Hope this helps you understand.

– mod sparrow

[malfoys-demigod]

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: Just a quick fluff drabble where the reader’s out admiring the morning snow, but also at the same time not wanting to admit she’s cold and of need of a jacket

A/N: Hi all!! It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been so hectic for me, but ever since I watched Deadpool and Wolverine recently, the love I have for X-men came back and I really loved seeing tons of Wolverine fics pop up!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

There was always something magical about the first morning snow at the X Mansion that made Y/N feel like the happiest girl in the world.

There was that feeling of serenity and calm that comes from snowy environments which she loved feeling every winter. It would prompt nostalgic memories: childhood fun, holidays spent yearning for a white Christmas - it just made her happy.

So when the first snow arrived early in the morning, Y/N got up as fast as she could, slipping on her favorite winter boots as she made a dash out to the entrance of the X Mansion, only wearing her long-sleeved pajama top and jogging pants.

There it was.

A fresh blanket of snow, covering the whole landscape of the area, as more snow fell down gracefully from the sky. Y/N was enjoying the sound of silence - watching the snow flutter down like magical confetti, which felt so healing to her.

She watched as the trees were heavy with snow on its tips, smelling damp pine cones from a distance. She never felt so happy.

That was until she took a few steps outward from the driveway with her last step causing her to take a small slip into a soft blanket of snow. She was now laying on wet snow, laughing her ass off from being so reckless out of nowhere all alone. The gleaming snow around her was what made her choose to stay grounded on the floor, expanding her arms and legs as they made snow angel movements.

It was only a matter of time for Y/N to start experiencing the frost bitten feeling around her body, numbing her as she continued staying out in the snow without proper protecting from being frozen. Yet.. she didn’t exactly have plans on going back in to wear protective gear just yet.

Meanwhile back inside the X Mansion, Logan had just woken up from a surprisingly good sleep. He didn’t have any nightmares to fight off this time. He actually woke up peacefully.

He got up, wore his regular leather jacket, fixed himself up quickly, and took a look at his window, seeing white, as he discovered the first snow of the season.

What he then noticed after was Y/N, lying down on the carpet of snow, with a smile on her face. Logan swore he almost felt a smile on himself growing too fast for his liking. He always kept his relationship with Y/N to a friendly-teasing kind of thing going on, but deep down, he always wanted to see if he could have more than that with his colleague.

His face definitely returned to his typical serious form, as he took a closer look at Y/N… with tingling cold finger tips, shivering slightly. He wondered why she wasn’t returning yet inside to warm up, and a level of concern grew in him, picturing her as a poor, frost bitten kitten, who needed help.

He turned around and made his way outside at full speed.

The heavy crunches of the snow under Logan’s feet as he stomped towards her caused Y/N to sit up and turn around.

Logan huffed at the sight of his kitten, looking bitterly cold now as her arms were crossed tightly. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

She smiled childishly with pink spots on her cheeks, which Logan discretely found lovable. “Um, enjoying the first snow?”

Logan had a displeased look on his face, definitely due to her reply. “No shit, but ever thought of doing it with extra layers on? You’re gonna freeze yourself to death, bub. You don’t want the kids to wake up on the first day of snow and see their teacher frozen over, do ya?”

Y/N was too amused with the silly, impossible idea of turning into an iced sculpture to even notice the worried look Logan had on his face. “Oh come on, Lo,” she brushed it off, “I’m fine. A little cold won’t hurt me.”

Logan was about to protest until Y/N brought out a small sneeze. She pointed at him her best straight-face, wanting to speak up first after her ‘A little cold won’t hurt me’ statement.

“Shut up, Logan,” she commanded, “That was nothing. I’m fine.”

The secretly smitten man, rolled his eyes, not buying a single thing she said. “Alright, here we go” he said, pulling her up for her to stand on her feet as she whined, “Hey!”

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside.” He pleaded after she complained with her frowns.

“But I really just wanted to stay a few minutes longer then I’ll go back in,” she admitted, giving her best ‘Puss-in-Boots adorable eyes’ that made Logan want to fold so damn easily. But he shook his head, removing his favorite leather jacket, that he would never just give to anyone. Her few minutes were definitely not few minutes and he knew that.

“Take it and wear it,” he surrendered.

Y/N lightly gasped, knowing very well that Logan and his leather jacket were famously inseparable. She was too flustered to say anything at the moment, so she took the jacket from him, mumbled a thank you, and started wearing it.

Logan had definitely taken a liking to what he was seeing. She looked so good in his jacket and he was captivated by how adorable she looked, with the jacket looking slightly oversized on her.

Y/N felt her heartbeat move faster when she taken a notice at Logan’s fitted black shirt, outlining the muscles that attracted her since the first day they met. She looked away, looking down at her shoes, hoping her cheeks weren’t pinker than they were earlier.

“You wanna join me for those last few minutes?” She asked teasingly with a small smile on her face. How could he say no to her?

He ‘nonchalantly’ huffed a ‘kay and sat down with her on the ground. She shifted a little closer to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. While her eyes were focused on the snow in front of her falling from a distance, his eyes were on her, wanting to make sure he saw her reaction to when the shoulder she was leaning on moved up, as Logan started wrapping his arm on her, getting them closer than how they were just a second ago.

Logan smirked to himself, seeing how red-faced Y/N was now, still focusing her attention on the snow, as she was avoiding eye contact with Logan, who was now hoping they spend more than a few minutes cozying up together before heading back in.

Maybe after that, he could treat her to hot chocolate, because of course, it was cold and he without a doubt thinks it’s the only nice thing to do afterwards…! *wink*

@snackthatsmilesbackchlldren @iluvloganhowlett (shoutout to you and your amazing fic so far! love seeing your works!)

[ladybyakuya]

| SIDE EFFECTS + SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

+cw. — fem!reader, established relationship, ( domestic ) fluff, love & comfort, slight angst, mature language, atsumu being atsumu, mention of hinata and bokuto. beta-read by my beloved ray.

+wc. — 1.2k 

+syn.—  Sakusa has gotten used to you pretty quick ever since he started living with you but now that he has known the bliss, he does not want to go back to living alone.

+notes. — this is for flufftober ‘fond moments’ collab event for a prompt: quality time hosted by @spookuna. mdni cuz im eighteen plus blog.| redirect to blog navigation. & tagging @tetzoro for poking my pineal glad with a question that became a inspo for this <3

For almost a month, Kiyoomi has had an odd extension of routine that starts after his matches. It starts with going straight home ( to you ), and eating the dishes you made for him which was suggested by a dietitian of course! and then wait at least one hour before hitting the shower, and that too, a cold one since right after he is done drying himself he jumps into bed just to hold you amongst his chest like a hot bag; this . . .this particular moment is what he has been looking forward to for months and now it has finally become a part of his life, and if things do not go south then it might just last for the rest of his life. Just barely thinking of it gets him wide awake. If life was a sleepless dream, then he would not mind sleeping forever at the end of it with you.

Today, however, everything turned upside down. He came home a little late, just a little; ate silently without talking much. Generally, he turns into a yapper right when he sees you. He has so much to talk about yet even with all that bubbling enthusiasm he still does not forget to ask, “Babe, how was your day?”, “Aw, babe that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”, “What? Need me to scare the manager? Because I can.” he says while flexing his muscles wearing nothing but a towel around his torso but you know he won’t do that since he has the confidence that you can handle anything all by yourself. After all, you scared the shit out of Miya when you first met him and he will not accept but, indeed, Miya is not easily scared, especially by girls. However, this evening his responses were full of— “umm.” and “umhm” — nods and sneaking glances. The Kiyoomi that is reserved for the world has come home to you today. 

And that one-hour gap, between his dinner and shower, which is generally filled with listening to you as you roam around the house and work and he follows you like a puppy is filled with frequent calls, messages, and screen time today. It sure makes you worry if not disappointed or angry. It has been a month since you two started living together, so this one hour has always been filled with making this small apartment a place that you both could call “home.” Things were slowly falling into place, turning this place into a home. You were happy, and Kiyoomi? He was the happiest man in the world. 

However, crest-fallen.

Sakusa came out of the bathroom freshly showered when you were folding his clothes. Now that he can see your back properly without any thoughts lingering in his mind you look tired, sad, and perhaps. . . a little annoyed. Maybe it is not a good time to tell you the news after all but what else he can do, he does not have much time left either. He tip-toes his way towards you, slowly.

“C’mon out with it, omi. What’s up?” You say and turn towards him with a bunch of his clothes in your hand only to face a half-naked Sakusa, a pink towel wrapped around his torso, his hands in the air branching out in a form of embrace. You chuckle as you walk off to his closet but his stance remains intact just his head following you; 

his jaw drops as he enquires with utmost curiosity, “How do you always know?” which earns him just an endearing glance from you. You keep the stack of his clothes on the shelf, one by one as he finally says what has been bothering him. “I have to move out. . .to Osaka.” You had to pause before keeping the last t-shirt on the stack of clothes. Your hand is still on the edge of the closet wooden frame since you know the moment you close it— is the moment you have to face such a warped reality where you would be alone in this newly bought apartment, with no omi to wait for, cook for, or take care of. . . 

As if he could read your thoughts he mumbles sharply. “Babe, turn around.” He must be still in that pink towel. The air conditioner is on but it seems that he does not mind the cold today. You slowly turn around closing the cupboard with your hands at the back biting your lower lip in anticipation thinking if Kiyoomi had to tell you about moving out to you, then he must have tried all the possibilities of either staying here with you or taking you with him yet none of them must have worked because if it had, you two would not be standing so apart like two curtains drawn apart. 

“Oh dear God,” Kiyoomi groans as he clutches your wrist pulling you into himself. He makes you sit on the edge of the bed while he sits on the floor, legs folded keeping his head on your lap as he draws lazy patterns on the side of your thighs with both hands, simultaneously. “I never thought I’d fall in love even though I’ve planned it in my notebook ever since I was a kid.” He turns his head up, “Now that my love is here I want to keep it, safe, forever.” The water from his hair has left spots on your long tee. You run your nails through his scalp and he lets out a low even groan saying, “So, I took a week off to spend time with you and of course to get the packing done.” He has to rake his eyes open since the exhaustion blended with being sleepy along with your tender touch is too tempting not to give in.

“What?” You ask, surprised. “You did it for me?”

“Yeah. ‘course. Why wouldn’t I?”

A black pup tip-toes its way into the room and both of you watch it walk till it halts right at your feet wagging its tail, tongue hanging out of its mouth. Both of you look at each other, and then a familiar voice turns up, “We’re here love birds.” Sakusa rolls his eyes before turning around and grabbing your bathrobe to wrap himself up probably because now his senses are back enough to let him know how chill the temperature of the room is. You put your palms over your cheeks, it has become warm again, as you look at the pup. 

Just when you crouched down to pat the pup, Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto followed into your shared bedroom. 

“So, what’re you gonna name him?” Miya asks with a big grin plastering on his face.

“Kiyo!”

“Heyyyyy.” Naturally, Sakusa protests. Bokuto and Hinata share a look holding back their laughter. 

“Well, I call you Omi when I need something from you, or when I’m angry with you and I call you Mr. sakusa when we—you struggle to put your thoughts out in words so Atsumu interjects. 

“ —fuck.” He is still grinning. What’s he so happy about?

“Yeah. that.” you point at him while keeping your eyes still on Kiyoomi. “So, I don’t see a problem calling him Kiyo.”

[artdnldsn]

thinking about art finally marrying his high school sweetheart, feeling like the happiest man alive. as he’s standing under the wedding arch, hearing you recite your vows, he’s completely out of it, his brain short-circuiting. he can hear your voice, but the words just don’t reach his mind. he’s gonna have to ask you to repeat them to him later because he understands you’ve poured your heart into them, but he just can’t bring himself to pay attention right now. not when his heart is thudding like mad against his ribcage, and you’re so beautiful, and his brain is having trouble registering that you’re really agreeing to be his for all eternity—

and then you go on your honeymoon, and he’s gone all out with it. he didn’t have much saved up, his career is only starting to pick up, but he’s made sure to book the nicest plane seats, the nicest hotel, the nicest spa treatments. he doesn’t want you to doubt your decision of marrying him even for a second. he wants you to understand that you’ve signed up for a life of just this—him treating you like something precious, like you’re the queen you’ve always been in his eyes ever since you offered to help him with his english homework back in 9th grade. he still doesn’t know, but it was just you trying to find an excuse to talk to him. but in his head, it was all the gods imaginable that pushed you towards him that day because you looked purely angelic in your awkward school uniform and that perm that you cringe inwardly remembering. but he loved it as he has always loved every single little thing about you.

he can’t believe how you’re still by his side as you both are getting older. you’ve become so hot he just can’t believe his luck. and he can’t believe it now of all times because wow, it’s truly happened. he’s going to grow old by your side, and there’s nothing in this world he’s ever wanted more. he always makes sure every single little part of your lives is documented, his phone out of his pocket at all times, just in case. because if he sees the sunlight catch beautifully in your hair, he wants to capture it, wants there to be some sort of physical proof of that moment. sometimes he really starts wondering if this all is just his fever dream and you’re going to disappear or some shit when he eventually wakes up because he can’t believe it’s real.

his photo roll is just a bunch of some random screenshots and you—you smiling on the beach, you petting a random dog, you laughing as you spilled your drink all over the table, you looking at him, all hearty-eyed, completely ignoring the phone being shoved into your face, your head propped up on your hand as you’re looking at him sitting on the opposite side of the table. he’s returning to this picture constantly, and it’s on his lock screen, and on your contact. because there is that glint in your eyes that makes him wonder for a second, maybe, just maybe, you feel all those things, too, and he’s not crazy to be so head-over-heels with you even after all those years you’ve already spent together.

and at night, he’s fucking you like he loves you—thoroughly, paying attention to every single hitch of your breath, drinking in every little sound pouring out of your mouth, his dick buried deep inside of you, his moves slow and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch as he’s making sure he feels every inch of you, too. his lips not leaving a single spot of your body unattended, because he’s already memorized every single mole, curve, and dip of your body. but with you, every single time feels like he’s rediscovering it all for the first time ever. he can’t wait to see how your body changes over the years. he can’t wait to see all the wrinkles that will appear on your beautiful face because it’s inevitable with you smiling so much all the time. and he already loves them all, even though they’re not even there yet. but he still can’t remember how to breathe sometimes when he catches a glimpse of his wedding band on his finger and understands that it’s all real. you’re real.

and when the receptionist calls you ‘mrs. donaldson’ when you’re checking out from the hotel, his heart flutters like the first time he saw you, a goofy, boyish smile touching his lips. he’s just giddy being yours.

[grapejuicestyless]

Happier

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is not happy, despite the smile etched into her face, and nobody can see that, nobody but Harry, who can’t seem to express his concern in a gentle way.

“You look happier.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Thank you? I don’t mean to be mean when nobody meant any harm, but it feels so casually cruel for someone to pick up on the way I’ve changed and mistake my spiraling for happiness.

I don’t know the true shape of my face. My cheeks were round most of my life, meant to be kneaded between the fingers of my working class grandmother while she baked in the kitchen, but more recently the skin has fallen from the bone and what was once rolled between wrinkled fingers is tighter to my face as it strangles me from the inside out.

I don’t recognize myself either. Maybe I never did, because even when I search for the girl I once was, I can never seem to find her. I remember running around as a child with my best friend, the grass stains on my jeans and the holes in my sweater from tug of war’s in his backyard. She was happy, even if she looked tired. She was the happiest I’d ever been, but she was so young. She hadn’t found herself yet and maybe that’s what made life so good, the ignorance of the real world and how it would shape her.

Maybe the real me is the person who reaches out to her friends when she misses them, or maybe its the girl who counted down the days to her seventeenth birthday so she could finally relate to the lyrics of Dancing Queen and mean it finally. But maybe it’s the girl who sits in bed staring at the ceiling wondering why she never made it where everyone else was going. Maybe it’s the girl who wished her mother cared just a little bit more to stop comparing her to her “smarter” friends when she was twelve.

So maybe I do look happy, maybe I am happy. Maybe I have never felt happy before and maybe that’s why I feel so conflicted about if I truly am or if I am just projecting it out to seem that way.

“Harry.”

I call into the darkness, wandering the house party in a sweaty costume sticky with splashes of beer on the fabric, only half of the costume I came with.

The hallway is long and winding, but it always feels that way when I’m not exactly sure if I’m going in the right direction.

“Harry?” I call out again, spotting the other half of my costume.

“Y/n.” He smiles with a sigh, like even though the smoke between his fingers is taking off the edge, I’ve just calmed the entire air surrounding him. For me, it’s the same feeling. When he’s near, everything seems to slow down for a moment. After about the thousandth comment on how much better I looked from some friends of friends, he disappeared, and maybe that’s why their integrating looks bother me so much, because theres no hand to hold onto to distract me from myself.

I slide against the wall to sit with him, my eyes finding purchase on the same cracks across the thin hallway as he did, and the warm blunt being lazily passed from his fingers to mine.

“I think you’re rubbing all your glitter onto my pants.” he breathes out casually into the comfortable silence. I feel the tension in my shoulders expand before fading.

“I think it’s in my eyes too.”

“Just when I thought they couldn’t shine any brighter.” Harry lifts his hand to hook his index finger around my chin, smiling like an idiot when he sees my lips curl comfortably around the joint.

“Well, maybe I feel better than usual. It’s finally reflecting back to you.”

I joke, feeling sick as I recall the conversation from before. I look happier, as if to suggest that before I was miserable, and even if they weren’t wrong about that, the fact that anyone could read that without a second glance scared me. How a stranger could read me before I could.

“Well, you look like shit if you do.”

“Ouch, that obvious?”

“If I counted each time you rolled your eyes when someone told you that whole speech about how good you look, I’d run out of fingers.”

Harry laughs as he takes back the weed to finish it off. I’ve already drank more than him, so the sway in my body becomes more noticeable as the burn sears down my throat.

“It’s just so…wrong. I mean, I guess I feel okay, but do I really look good enough for all this praise?” I ask quietly into the night, my knees pressing against my chest as I hug my calves tightly between my sweaty palms.

“I think you’re very pretty, Y/n. You are pretty. But your face is changing and no amount of glitter can cover that up.” He tells me honestly, rubbing out the dying end onto his knee and sighing at the burn.

“If you still believe that then I haven’t used enough glitter.” I try to joke, to brush away the rising bile in my throat and tension in the air.

“You can fool anyone else, but I know you. Even if you’re not who you once were, I still know you because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn’t. I’m a leech. I’ll fucking suck up all the joy from your life until you’re too exhausted to leave.” I smiled at the ground drunkenly, head hung low and my eyes heavy.

“But I do. You’re my best friend and it’s pathetic how you let yourself fall so low.” Harry flicks out the end of the blunt, watching the ashes fall the floor and stain the carpet lining the thin hallway.

“I came to you for comfort, you know. Not to get drilled in a bunny costume.” I roll my eyes, the haze clearing at his bitter remarks.

“Well tough luck, I guess. You look like shit for a girl who everyone here thinks is so happy.” Harry looks at me, his hand moving to wipe away the glitter by my eye.

“I need air.” I stand up, almost stumbling against the faint curling of the carpet at the edges. It’s new and that’s how you can tell, it hasn’t fully sunken into the floor, and it’s such a shame that it’s forever stuck with the glitter from my costume and the ashes of Harry’s joint.

“You need help.”

I stop, and there’s a beat that passes.

“You’re a real asshole when you’re high, you know. I have my own shit, I don’t need to be taking yours too.” I smile at him, but only because he was smiling at me.

“Maybe I am.” He responds plainly, and when he looks the other way, I feel heavier than before, more picked apart than before, more vulnerable than before.

Theres a thousand eyes on my back just waiting for me to crack, like the chip in my tooth from how hard I’m smiling while talking to strangers about my hopeless life. And they all say I look happier.

“But y/n,” Harry calls out for me, and for a moment I believe he might apologize.

“You look happy.”

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist

It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.

Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.

This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.

“About five now,” Black Widow answered.

Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?

“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.

The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.

“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”

Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.

“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.

Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.

//

It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).

Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.

So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.

He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.

Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.

But . . . He did have something they could help with.

“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”

“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.

Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.

//

As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.

“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.

“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.

Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.

She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.

“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.

[smoshyourheadin]

spencer’s funeral and his partner is the special guest and roasts spencer so hard and than revels that they are getting a cat together but everyone thinks it’d a baby announcement lmaoooo or however you wanna end it

Special News

pairing: spencer agnew x f! reader

a/n: anon i love this idea so much!! guys please don’t come at me for these terrible jokes i’m just a girl really 😜 also i’m posting sm rn go me

requests are open <33

“lebron james inspired us with his baller moves. steph curry inspired us with his words. spencer agnew inspired us by being a piece of shit, so we would never follow in his footsteps.”

you’re stood at the podium of the funeral, spencer in the coffin next to you holding a bouquet of plastic flowers as he tries not to laugh.

“spencer is a gamer, and we all know that. but if he spent as much time with me as he does on world of warcraft, i’d be the happiest girl on earth, but hey, at least he has a high gear score to keep him company whilst i cook.”

you see everyone laugh as you switch the paper, angela cackling over what you thought was a pretty shit joke.

as the laughter dies down, you continue on. “spencer and me only ever disagree over stupid things, and i think to myself, he must know he’s short when he has to look up to see eye-to-eye with someone who's shorter than him, because i’m always right. i’m sure courtney feels the same about shayne.”

at this, courtney yells “FACTS!” from behind one of the cameras, and you shoot her a wink.

shayne then stares you down, and all you say is “shayne don’t worry, i’m a short king ally!” which he just smirks at.

“i have some pretty bad jokes here, so let’s quickfire some.“ you mutter to everyone.

“if sleeping on my arm were an olympic sport, he’d have more gold than michael phelps.” this earns a giggle from spencer, as you have a folder on your phone of him asleep in the most awkward ways possible, always lying on your arm somehow.

“he’s so obsessed with video games, even his posture looks like it's from a character model that hasn't loaded properly yet.“ this makes everyone cackle, spencer opening one eye to glare at you, and you just laugh him off.

“your gamer boy posture is so bad, chiropractors have your picture on their vision boards on what to improve on.”

“do you guys think that,” you exhale through your nose at what patrick has written on your prompt card. “spencer’s idea of sitting normally the same as a pretzel’s idea of being straight?” which is so bad it’s good, making you crouch down to laugh.

you stand back up after a moment, your stomach twisting over what you’re about to do. it’s going to be so worth it, but gosh you feel bad.

“spencer, my lovely boyfriend, is a mt dew kickstart addict, certified gamer girl, and a soon to be father” and at this last statement, everyone gasps, and spencer’s eyes shoot open and he sits up. he looks at you intently, and you see him experience about a hundred emotions at once

you smile at everyone, turning to a camera, pulling out a printed off certificate of adoption, a picture of a tiny ginger cat taped to it.

“we got a cat!” you say, almost proud of how shocked everyone is

as you turn to look at spencer, you hear shayne’s laugh, and you look at spencer with sympathetic eyes, mouthing ‘i love you’ to him over all the laughter. he just smiles, knowing that this cat is going to be so loved by you both. especially you. because you love him so much.

as you sit back down, spencer sits up. having come back from the dead, he has some things to say. he goes through everyone at his funeral; alex, shayne, damien, tommy, selina, and then, you.

“and finally, my beautiful girlfriend, y/n. my bundle of sunshine, blinding and hard to look at directly.” you scoff at this, and he looks at you with a look that says this is a joke please don’t kill me when we’re home.

“i mean, come on, you cry at surf's up? i guess even animated penguins have higher emotional intelligence than you.” he manages to say through a fit if giggles. spencer always teases you for this, even though he cries at the NGE film. loser.

after wrap, courtney comes over to congratulate you on your cat, and just catch up generally.

“so, cat parents hey? proud of you girl” she says with a grin.

“yeah, i kinda feel bad scaring everyone into thinking spencer gets game in bed.” you reply, earning a laugh from her.

“don’t be mean to me! i’m a player you know?” spencer says coming up behind you.

“okay, sure you are mr ‘i cry at anime’.” you snap back.

he throws his hands up in defeat, and you kiss his cheek, going off to see amanda.

“she’s so cool.” courtney says

“yeah,” spencer replies. “she’s not that bad.”

she elbows him in the ribs, and he clutches his side

“i mean, she’s the best!” he says through strained teeth, courtney doing a proud nod before catching you up.

[kairiscorner]

married life. — kento nanami x spouse!reader (part 1)

summary: he'd give up his old habits and more just to see you smile, be with you for a little longer, and make you the happiest person in the whole damn world; he's your husband for that very reason. pairing: nanami kento x spouse!gn!reader genre: tooth-rotting fluff !! content warnings: mentions of slight alcoholism author's note: i saw that fanart of nanami that i reblogged and my mind just came up with all kinds of shit for him. i loved him for 6 months straight, I WANNA GET BACK THERE, LET ME LOVE HIM FOR 6 MONTHS MORE !!

kento nanami comes home from his dead-end, nowhere 9 to 5 job, exhausted and in need of rest. about a year ago, all he had to comfort him was a bottle of pricey wine that he indulged in every end of the month or so, not minding it was nearing its expiry date. he only had store-bought bread and whatever melodramatic soap opera was on TV to entertain him.

kento nanami was indeed, lonely; he was well aware of his own loneliness and needed nobody to point that out for him. it always made him feel worse whenever anybody would say how handsome he is or he's not getting any younger and that he has to settle down at some point.

kento nanami was never the jealous type, though whenever he'd hear word about a coworker of his or whoever getting married and being invited to the ceremony, he'd always feel a kind of pang in his heart, knowing he could never have that kind of life.

kento nanami had given up all hope of finding the right person, none of the people he had met recently were anything he felt connected to (or could even start a conversation with).

kento nanami used to clutch his wine bottle at night, hiccuping in a drunken state as the dialogue from the characters on the late night soap opera on TV was fading from his senses and sleep had come to finally take him away.

kento nanami however, gets woken up in the middle of the night to the feeling of warm hands on both sides of his face; hearing a soft, gentle voice call his name as he grumbles and groans.

kento nanami hears a giggle ring throughout his ears as he's being helped up by soft hands. "kento... if you were that tired, you could've asked for my help, love." you chided him gently as he hummed in confusion.

kento nanami sighed as he tried to stand up. "my... spouse isn't gonna like... that you're helping my drunk self off the couch... right now..." he said as he nearly staggered, but you aided him up as you nearly carried him up the stairs. "they don't want to see... me drinking anymore... but i can't help it, i miss them... too much, the alcohol... it brings me closer to them, lets me stay with them a little... little longer in my dreams..." he mumbled.

kento nanami began to tear up lightly as he kept mumbling and muttering about how much he loves his spouse, how much they saved him from a lifetime of loneliness he already accepted was going to be his life. "i can't believe that... that i... i was saved from... growing old all by myself... a miserable, meaningless life... a life without them by them... and i pull this stunt on them after... promising i'd be better... it didn't make me feel any better, it made me feel sadder." he confessed to you as you got him up to your shared bedroom and laid him down on the bed.

kento nanami sobbed as he kept going on and on about his beloved spouse, how he wants to be better and that they've looked forward to the day when he could spend one evening without him being passed out on the couch from the habit he had yet to get rid of him drinking himself to sleep before he got married.

kento nanami felt loving hands stroke his hair and shush him, kissing his temples as he tried to say sorry to his spouse. "please stop kissing and holding me... my spouse'll be sad... i wanna see them so bad..." he whispered as you chuckled. "kento, i am your spouse." you tell him as you felt over his ring finger, the two of you wearing the rings you both slid on each other on the day of your wedding.

kento nanami blinked his tears away in realization, and his face scrunched up even more as he began to sob harder. he wrapped his arms around your waist and cried into your shoulder, apologizing that he should've squared up, he shouldn't have let you down, but you shushed him and told him with a comforting voice that it was okay. "it's hard to get out of a habit, love... i know that. i'm not angry, i'm not disappointed... i'll stay with you forever, kento, you don't need to keep that in your dreams. i'll always be with you." you promised him as you kissed the top of his head, with him thanking you and kissing your cheeks, his tears wetting them as he muttered how in love he is with you, how he'll work on this starting tomorrow, but for now... all he wants to do is hold you in his arms and sleep with you, just lay here on the bed with you in his arms and with his heart beating in harmony with yours.

[leviosally]

Play for Me the Music of your Heart

Final chapter is up my friends. Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy it!

.

.

.

They reach the front doors to the concert hall and Aziraphale turns to him. His eyes are so very green this evening—Crowley’s favorite color despite his affinity for wearing black. Green is the color of growth, harmony, renewal, peace. Fitting, as he absolutely feels renewed and more at peace with the world than he ever has before. It’s insufferably cheesy, and he wants to despise it, but it’s the truth. It’s the happiest he’s ever been.

Aziraphale holds his gaze, looking goddamn radiant and plush and absolutely ravishable, if he’s honest. Crowley blames it on the white tux. (And then he proceeds to go down a mini rabbit hole of other particular scenarios wherein one might wear a white tux for one’s partner. Promptly followed up by a mini meltdown because, fuck, it’s been A Minute since he considered the M-word—okay, marriage—but he thinks…no, he knows it’s something he’d be open to. But only if Aziraphale would want…shit, focus you absolute disaster.)

“Ready?” Instead of dropping Crowley’s hand, he squeezes it tighter, tugging Crowley closer until he can place a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, angel,” he replies as the heat of a blush makes his skin tingle.

Crowley used to roll his eyes at couples huddled close on street corners, or snuggled up in restaurant booths canoodling and giggling. And yet here he is, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand in return, raising it to kiss his knuckles while concert guests and musicians stream in on either side of them, knowing the smile on his face is utterly besotted. A martyr to his own hypocrisy.

So sue him.

They turn, still hand in hand, and walk into the building.

Read the fic here.

[kissingkiszka]

Pickles & Peanut Butter - dad!Jake Kiszka x Reader

Requested!

words: 1k+

Summary: Just Jake being a wonderful husband and helping you through your pregnancy and domestic shit

CW: 18+, MDNI, pregnancy, fluff, domestic Jake, talks of body image, weird pregnancy cravings, fluff, I think that’s all

—————————————————————

Your third trimester of pregnancy was really kicking your ass. One of the biggest reasons that you were able to get through it was all thanks to your wonderful husband, Jake. He waited on you hand and foot and the never ending praise was enough in itself to keep you happy. You still remember the day you told him you were expecting.

...

"Jake-" you called out for him through sniffles. "C'mere."

He opened the bathroom door and immediately spotted the stick in your hand. He inspected it thoroughly, tears welling up in his eyes not long after.

"Wait- we're having a baby?" He swiped a tear from his cheek.

"Yes!" You beamed.

"We're having a baby!" He rejoiced. "You're going to be the best mama." He says as he bends down to kiss your still flat stomach. "Oh my god, I'm gonna be a dad."

"I've always wanted to be a mother..." you can barely manage to get any other words out. Your body is overfilled with happiness and emotion.

"This baby is gonna be the most insanely loved baby in the entire world. Our baby." He continues to smile through tears. "You've made me the happiest man in the world. First your husband, and now a father."

"Oh god. I can already picture you changing diapers." You cup your hand over your mouth and blinked back some lingering tears. "Doing all the dad duties."

"I gotta tell Josh-" he reached for his phone in his pocket to be stopped by you.

"Hold on, let's not tell anyone yet. We can surprise them."

...

He laid on your legs, his hands cupping your growing bump. He just finished giving you a well deserved and needed foot rub, one that he insists on giving you almost every day. He knows how insecure you've been feeling and does everything in his power to make sure you know how beautiful you are.

"You're glowing. You know that?" He coos. "Your stretch marks are so beautiful love." He tells you as he traces each one delicately.

You just stare at him in awe.

"We really made this baby together, huh?" He asks you, a wide smile breaking out on his face.

"Yeah, I guess we did." You laugh to yourself.

"I think I've fallen even more in love with you, and I didn't even know that was possible." As his words continue to butter you up, you feel your baby moving around. "I felt a kick!" He beams.

"Our little one loves their daddy." You smile, rubbing your free hand through his hair. "I think the little one wants pickles and peanut butter again, Jakey." You feel a kick as soon as these words leave your lips, almost as if your baby is agreeing with you.

"But you had that yesterday, baby." He speaks to your stomach with the biggest puppy dog eyes. He turns up to face you. "Okay mama, I'll make it for you. On one condition. If you let me try it with you." He smiles. "I need to see what our babies food palette is like." He stands up and makes his way over to the door. 

"Deal." You place your hand on your stomach lovingly. As you go to stand, Jake rushes to your side to help you up. "Jake, I'm fine. However, your child has been kicking me all day."

"Oh it's my child now?" He laughs, realizing you aren't laughing with him and then immediately changes his demeanor. "I'm sorry. You're doing so well my love. Only a few more weeks. My superwoman."

He bends down to your stomach, placing a gentle hand on your bump once more. "Don't give your mommy too much trouble." He grabs your hand, not letting you walk down the stairs without him.

"Honey, I can walk down the stairs just fine. I'm only pregnant." You huff.

"Okay, okay." He let's out a defeated sigh, letting you walk down the stairs by yourself for once. "Just- go easy. You are carrying my child after all. Precious cargo."

You make your way into the kitchen, grabbing the peanut butter jar and the jar of pickles. Jake made sure to buy you a separate peanut butter jar, just for you to dip your pickles in. That had been one of the only things you had seriously craved the entire pregnancy. You dip the pickle into the peanut butter and take a big bite.

With your cravings satisfied, Jake does the same thing, following after you. He usually loves to try your cravings with you the first time you get them, but this one was just one he couldn't seem to get behind until now.

"Hmm..." he chews on the pickle. His brows furrow as his taste buds indulge in the flavor. You can tell he's not a fan of it, but he plays a good poker face just to make you happy. "Oh...it's uh- it's good!" He says, obviously faking it. He comes up behind you, wrapping on hand around your bump and grabbing your hand in his other.

"I love you darling. So fucking much." He whispers.

"Jake! Quiet! There's young ears around!" You slap his shoulder playfully, spinning around to meet his face.

"Oops! Sorry!" He shoots a hand up to cover his mouth. He laughs it off and then brings you into a kiss.

…

That same night while you were asleep, he ran out to the store and came back with a brand new jar of pickles and peanut butter. He placed them on your nightstand, leaving a little note next to it.

"My dear y/n,

I am so proud of you. Here's a little midnight snack for you. To spare you the trouble of having to rush to the kitchen in the middle of the night. But make sure to wake me up before you dig in. I live to share everything with you. Be it a  pregnancy craving or an entire damn family. I'm here with you through it all.

All my love,

Jake"

[nifftydeary]

Yandere!Elijah mikaelson x fem Reader headcanons

So this is a request made by @catmikaelson20 its my first headcanon ever so be nice haha enjoy.

@accidentalslayer I hope you'll like this one too bby 🖤

Elijah is nothing like his brother Niklaus, he is composed and reasonable and knows when to stop and we're the limits not to cross lays.

Even if he does love you like a mad man and would do anything for you he does allow you to get out and have a liberty of your own. Nonetheless, he would certainly pay some man he trusts to follow you. You stayed at Mikaelson now that you were together and since they had a lot of enemies, it was just a necessity really.

Elijah wanted you to be at your happiest and to feel like a little princess, his princess and it just wouldn't be possible if he was keeping you at home all the time and controlling your life now would it.

As a gentleman, our favorite vampire is SPOILING the shit out of you every occasion he has. Buying you expensive dresses, jewellery, anything you wanted to be honest Elijah would never say no to you.

He is really often with you, even if he is a really busy man he makes all the time in the world for his princess and makes sure to stay with you more than enough. He doesn't like to be away from you for too long anyway and if he really needs to leave you for a day or two for a really important matter, he will ask Rebecca or Niklaus to keep you company and keep an eye on you.

Even if it doesn't look like it, Elijah is a jealous man. He never shows it to you or wants you to know what happened with the men that used to text you and show even a tad bit of interest for you. He is not the type to show you this side of him. He wants you to see only the best of him. His controlled and utterly gentle and caring side. Yet, it's not to say he never killed anyone because he didn't like the way they looked at his princess or if they flirted with you. Could you really blame him, you were so innocent and pure and couldn't know what was good and bad for you when it comes to man.

We're his obsessive behaviour was principally demonstrated was when it comes to your safety...Elijah would lose his shit if you ever get in danger and he would do anything to get you back safely to his side...no matter how many people he needs to kill and no matter how much blood he'll make rain. It's not something he was playing with, just the idea of his little princess in the wrong hands and in possible arms way makes him MAD MAD. It probably would be the first time the reader sees him like this... he'll be out of control.

Even if Elijah is a prideful man and has all his beliefs in his charm and handsomeness he is still quite unfaithful in the other man's honor.

He wasn't trusting them one bit, so he was always there to make sure it was clear like glass that you belonged to him and him only. Elijah would mark you, on your neck and your shoulders even sometimes. He would even mark your tights and your hips but it was only for him to see.

Elijah is obsessed with your body, he worships it and thinks you are a literal goddess within humans. That's why he's a little controlling on what you wear sometimes. When he catches you about to get out with a really short dress there is no way he'll allow you to leave the house. Elijah would be really serious about getting changed and if you ever end up not doing what he asked, well you're just never going to get out of the house. He doesn't want his princess to look like a hooker and he certainly doesn't want you to attract even more attention to you. Don't get me wrong he isn't that strict but sometimes it's just too much.

You guys don't fight often, but when you do it often ends up with Elijah leaving you the space you need and then, he comes back to you after you thought. You love him and he loves you and he can let you stay mad at him. Elijah will do anything to make you happy and he will accept his mistakes and try to be better for you.

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapters 13 & 14: the moult & the vulture

now the dust has settled... thank you for reading chapters 13 and 14 of beasts! thank you also to the askbox angels who asked for the author’s note (it is still mad to me someone reads these). now, it's inquiry time, baby - and boy are the gloves coming off, and the secrets spilling out. the wait was long; so were the chapters. sorry, again, about that. so - kindly read on for discussion of some major themes and plot points, a little on song choices, and some juicy deets and a sneak peek of chapter 15... and 16…

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing notes and headcanons

first - a disclaimer: am going to talk about that cliffhanger in a separate post up shortly (i rambled on too long). it will be up shortly!

second - a thank you! the reaction to these chapters has me in absolute bits. i'm a soppy sentimental shit at heart and this really did make me the happiest little girl in the world. so thank you forever and ever for that.

third - an acknowledgement, as ever, to @saintsenara, whom i bounce all the inane details off of, whose takes absolutely slap and who i hope will forgive me for making her boy rookwood such a flop.

divide and conquer/accidentally wrote two chapters again: what am i like! the trouble is - life-stuff aside - i was excited about these chapters (and the reveals), but also put far too much pressure on them to do a huge amount of heavy lifting, and to get the story to a place it wasn’t yet at and needed to get to quick. the writing challenge for these chapters was that i needed a series of plots to hit a rolling boil so we can get to the flashbacks to ginny’s war and all the reveals. and it took fucking ages to work how to structure and serve them as each needs at this point in the fic, and try to find a set of themes/devices to tie those plots together into something cohesive (especially because writing fic is much more like dropping tv show episodes in structure rather than actually sharing a novel, in part because you drop them one at a time at intervals, and i think the more successful ones can stand alone while also serving the overall body of work). i have - i confess - knitted, in my time, and you know when you have really thick wool and thick needles and you’re trying to slowly eek off one stitch onto the other needle and it actually really starts to hurt? it felt like that :) 

two inquiries, both alike in dignity: god, i love an inquiry. the truth being dragged out kicking and screaming by  the state, buffeted by political winds and a rapacious press? inject it. at last, the past is getting properly dredged up, and all sorts of buried secrets are getting unearthed in the process. so: in the present, the hogwarts inquiry is under way, and the wizengamot has assembled to hear what exactly has been going down in that cursed drafty old castle. in the past, though, we have flashbacks to a separate inquiry, into the events of 1992-1993, after the chamber of secrets was opened, where it wasn’t hogwarts on trial, but ginny herself (in a way). the events of ginny’s first year have haunted her in diffuse, quiet, private ways in the flashbacks throughout this fic so far, but we’re moving into the part of the fic where we see just how much they changed the course of her life and who she is as a person. in canon, ofc, we only see harry’s view of the aftermath of ginny’s ordeal in the chamber - dumbledore is reinstated, lucius gets kicked off the governors, ginny weasley is ‘perfectly happy again’... but would that *really* be the end of it? doesn’t it seem perfectly plausible the ministry would investigate given the scale of publicity and threat to student lives, given (as discussed previously) the ministry canonically holds inquiries of varying scales for all sorts of things in canon? wouldn't they hold one for this?

ginny's guilt: in CoS, young harry never blames ginny for any of it: she was hoodwinked, he recognises, and not at all culpable. it’s very harry, and it’s a compassionate read of the situation. but given how little we know dumbledore tells anyone about what the diary actually was (even lucius didn’t know), wouldn’t ginny expect to face at least some questions about her own involvement and culpability, even if she was clearly to some extent also a victim? (the nod to colin’s mum is there as a reminder that there were real victims of the basilisk attacks: ginny could easily have been responsible for the deaths of several children, including her own friends, and if it were my child i think i’d want to ask at least a question or two). what i wanted to show with these flashbacks was this very formative experience for young ginny grappling with her own guilt and her place between two wars, having to face difficult questions about her own complicity in dark magic and attempted murder; for there to be echoes of ginny’s experiences in the experiences of young death eaters during the second wizarding war, and to start to properly draw these themes about choices, moral agency and grey areas, about children’s radicalisation and wars fought both by and through them, and, in particular, where ginny weasley sat within them. what i wanted to show was how ginny’s political and moral worldview was shaped in those pivotal years: her guilt, her sense of her own failings and inadequacies, how discontent she was to be a victim, how obsessed she is with being an agent and a soldier, how much she feels she has to prove. i might bash out a proper meta on this but i think it’s so telling how ginny talks about her second year later on in canon - how haunted she is by the forgetting (in OotP), and how much she sees it as having ‘[taken] orders’ (in HBP), rather than thinking of her possession as just playing host to another entity. here, it’s dumbledore who points out the key traits that led ginny into riddle’s path: her loneliness and isolation, her many insecurities that made her so vulnerable, her fear, a certain desire for self-preservation. even though we know most hogwarts students don’t seem to really know what happened in CoS, and certainly not ginny’s part in it (terry boot in OotP is like ‘lol did you kill a basilisk with a sword!’ which seems to be the extent of the student body’s knowledge of what went down). but i like the idea of there being a record of ginny’s darkest moment in her file, ink and paper proof of this most formative experience in her life, dumbledore dancing around her defence but keeping his cards close to his chest - and also there to pursue if anyone planning a hogwarts takeover was interested in finding someone close to the order of the phoenix who might be a weak link in the chain and be persuaded to flip…

dumbledore: dumbledore appears here only in flashbacks - he’s still absent from his portrait in the present - but it was sooo fun (re)introducing him as a character for the fic for the first time. what i liked about writing dumbledore’s dialogue (though it’s actually much harder than i expected, and i don’t feel that great about some of the lines) was that it was a chance to get a bit meta with the dumbledore bashing tropes that circle around fandom - you work through child soldiers, you monster etc - and try and do something a bit more interesting with them, or at least ask some questions (child soldiers or human shields? can children fight for what they believe in? how you fight a fair fight when the other side sees children as fair game - do you confine children to victimhood, or do you acknowledge, or even encourage, their own moral agency and desire to fight back?) dumbledore is walking a very difficult moral line here: defending ginny, but declining to disclose information that might conclusively exonerate her - eg. the existence of voldemort’s horcruxes - in the name of his most favourite thing, the greater good. in dumbledore’s mind, ginny deserves a defence, but not the whole truth, because that’s too important and bound up in a much bigger picture. dumbledore is always playing 3D chess while everyone else plays chequers. should dumbledore have revealed the horcruxes to conclusively exonerate ginny here? no, right? and yet. one day ginny will name her middle son after this man, and we might start to think about why. is it just loyalty to harry? or something else? i wanted us to see ginny’s political worldview being built, and her view of war and a soldier’s role in it, all themes that will be super important as we go back in time to see her war as she lived it in future chapters.

the intellectuals: one of the least developed but most interesting parts of the wizarding world in canon are the ideas and the people who have em. the series has a lot of important characters that are supposed to be eminent thinkers, but it doesn’t ever really linger on ideology, in the end settling on a kind of boilerplate liberal universalist good vs evil message which is fiiine but much less interesting than actually playing around with the concept of political thinkers and political thought in wizarding culture. it’s why i find the department of mysteries so interesting and so ripe with potential; the idea of a space of intellectual inquiry and investigation, but also a place where the staff’s moral allegiance is kind of a question mark. i loved introducing rookwood here and playing with a different kind of death eater, especially juxtaposed with dumbledore’s reflections in the flashback testimony. rookwood isn’t a bruising thug for fire, or a self-serving machiavellian real politik type or a coward acting out of fear, but someone who really believes in magical supremacy and has built a robust political worldview around it. there’s something really chilling about that. we’ll be seeing him again and i unfortunately am now so rookwood-pilled i worry i will never recover. i knew i’d get hegel in there somewhere! and they said it couldn’t be done! ariana carl schmidt what are you doing here!

kingsley vs minnie: delicious to reignite the minnie discourse, especially to come out to try and beat the minnie-bashing allegations that have jovially dogged me thus far. so far in this fic, kingsley has been an unrelenting goodie, someone who came to ginny to get her endorsement of the inquiry and framed that approach as the righting of a moral wrong in letting the victims of a death eater-run hogwarts have their day in court. minnie, on the other hand, seemed like ginny’s opp, defending a toxic status quo and making wild suggestions like ‘do your homework’ ‘don’t play quidditch when you might die’, like some kind of fucking idiot. in the series ministers of magic are canonically not to be trusted - harry certainly never meets a minister who doesn’t try to put the squeeze on him - and it’s extremely fun to sow these seeds of doubts about kingsley’s motivations here, especially when using ginny the protagonist as canon harry’s mirror (ie. a narrator who is frequently a dumb bitch). what’s kingsley up to? answers on a postcard. but i’ll die on the kingsley is a slytherin hill i’m so sorry! and speaking of minnie…

mother figures (or: the pitfalls of shipping your mum out to the dominions): look i bummed myself out with this one. i have had that the mrs granger knife crime incident scene written for SOoooooo long let me tell you. i’ve written elsewhere about how much this fic is really so much about the girls, and - especially - the girls and their mums, or the people they make mother figures out of. one of the least satisfying of the ‘all was well’ aspect of the series was that actually, at the end of DH, you have a whole host of people who were probably never going to be well again, and i very much see hermione’s parents in that camp. the world and his wife has an opinion on hermione’s decision vis-à-vis her parents. hermione’s stans see it as her deepest personal self-sacrifice; her haters take it as yet more proof of her monstrousness. even if you imagine the grangers were totally mentally well after having their muggle brains messed around with by powerful magic, it is hard to imagine how their relationship with their daughter could ever really be the same again after hermione played god with their minds. but also - as ron says - hermione was motivated by a desperate desire to protect two people who would never really be able to wrap their heads around the peril (such was their distance from her life in the magical world), and who conceivably did need to be yeeted halfway across the world to get them out of harm’s way. the choices made in war - the inglorious, imperfect decisions not of purist heroes but of soldiers in the grimmest of circumstances - are so interesting to play with writing post-war fic, and i have found it so interesting and so sad to play with; especially the idea of girls coming of age and learning to see their mothers clearly, and - in the case of both hermione but also ginny - having to wrap their heads around the possibility that they may never really be ok again, and asking what that means for them, their daughters.

(also hermione brawling at ballet is a tribute to a very dear friend of mine who was in fact asked to leave our ballet lessons for pulling another girl’s hair in a fight over the barre in a pre-primary exam. monstrous competitive precocious stroppy madams unite!) 

hinny: i’ll answer some of the Qs i’ve had about this in a separate little from the postbag post shortly, but i do want to say: the thing with these chapters is that it was really important they happened after harry and ginny have had some breakthrough in the preceding chapter, where ginny has agreed to be honest and harry has asked her to let him help her and not to protect him from the truth. i always wanted harry and ginny to write these letters each other and promise to be honest to work on bridging the gaps between them and overcoming their own failings to work to do better by each other, and for those letters to now look like contracts they have to hold each other to. how will harry take it? they’ve made a commitment to each other. now they’re testing that commitment, and that’s going to take a lot of work, especially on harry’s part. (also ofc he had to find out at shell cottage, the official place of harry realising stuff. he’s going to start declining bill and fleur’s dinner invitations fr.)

ron weasley is our king: this whole fic is just ron apologism and i will never apologise for it. helping his girlfriend's traumatised mentally scarred mother with a bit of tlc and a spot of gardening! rescuing neighbour's children from trees! you will never be able to convince me ron weasley wouldn't be a great fucking boyfriend to one ms hermione granger. do not ever try!

last thing - sodding quidditch: fucking hate writing it!!! hate it with my whole heart!!! i see why everyone writes hermione now. you don’t have to give a shit about those stupid balls if granger's your gal. the mystery of what’s going on with ginny on her broom continues, with ginny’s apparent ability to seek (just about) but not chase throwing up more questions than answers. what was fun about writing this bit was getting to write ginny the captain and the team player, taking on great risk for the team - of injury, of humiliation -  and also place her in this surround that the trio never really operate in: a character who is canonically very popular and liked by her peers, who has played the thoroughly selfless and unrewarding role of backup seeker and potter understudy for years for her house, and who will saddle up at enormous personal expense not just because she is brave, or inherently self-sacrificing, but because she wants to make the people around her happy - her gryffindor family, but also the hogwarts student body at large. the trio are much less motivated by the well-being of the other children around them - they have higher-minded self-sacrificing tendencies about a more abstract moral good. neville and luna, the other two members of the silver trio, are goodies but unpopular oddities. it’s an underplayed part of the series that harry and the trio turn around in their sixth year and clock that somehow ginny turned out to be very liked and respected by the popular and unpopular of hogwarts alike, admired for being a) a laugh and b) someone who cares about other people and wants to get on with them. (makes you realise how often protagonists are removed from their peers in a slightly lofty they don’t understand me or being popular is beneath me vein.) this isn’t just a Nice Thing: i think it’s important for who ginny is as a character, and will be important for thinking about her wartime motivations, too.

reading list:

not done one of these in a while! but most things should come with a reading list, and these chapters are no different.

on ministry bureaucracy and the state (actually read this after these chapters were done but desperately wish i had read it before ffs):

Subluxation by @saintsenara

on hermione's mum/parents:

alone now by Kyra Along the Way by ElizabethCulmer you were broken-hearted and the world was, too by celaenos

on post-war justice and difficult questions:

what you're not to do by irnan

on the potters and the sea (more vibes than subject matter - this is next gen - but this one is gorgeous, and really got me thinking about harry and ginny's family by the sea):

Eyes like Sea Glass by @clerical3rror

songs from the playlist for these chapters:

for chapter 13 i went all moody, building dread, bit of a throwback to michael corner calling ginny a tryer with the taylor swift choice (i've never been a natural/all i do is try, try, try). that kate bush song basically got this chapter written i swear to god:

she is like the swallow by karan casey | waking the witch (2018 remaster) by kate bush | house of the rising sun by joni mitchell | bane by alt-j | afraid of everyone by the national | mirrorball - the long pond studio sessions by taylor swift | what if the birds aren't singing they're screaming by aldous harding

for chapter 14, much more abstract, a bit more instrumental, and out to sea (watershed moment; the tide is rolling in, kids). tortured poets is a deeply flawed deeply uneven album by a deeply un-self-aware artist convinced she knows herself well but but i'm afraid the albatross is very good (so is guilty as sin but it wasn't the moment for a matty healy wank anthem now was it):

the opportunity passed in less than a minute by roy montgomery | the albatross by taylor swift | first of the tide by erland cooper and benge | wash by bon iver | escapism by a. blomqvist

about chapter 15 (and 16…)

the next chapters are ginny's war. they're (almost) all flashback, and i am sooooooo excited about them (and desperately hope you will like them jfc). i am in the unusual position of now picking up great enormous pieces that i wrote over a year ago and dusting them off and sorting them out and rewriting bits and writing new bits around them. there's probably two chapters in it, so am currently expecting chapter 15 and 16 to drop at the same time (that might change, but for now, that feels right to me). i'm tip-tapping as fast as my little fingers can carry me. here's the least spoilery sneak peek i could rustle up!

'I'm not smugglin' in nuthin", says Hagrid. He raises a large muddy finger at her. 'I want yeh to listen to me, for once in yer life. Keep yer head down. Go to yer classes, have yer dinner, put up, and shut up. They're lookin' fer a reason to go after yer family. Reckon the best thing yeh can do for the Order is to keep to verself and stay out o' trouble. Reckon that's what yer mum wants yeh to do. Reckon that's what Harry wants, too.'

[poraphia]

"A Heart-Shaped Necklace."

heartbroken!wilbur x newlywed!reader 1971 words • 8.11.23 cw ~ unrequited love, heartbreak, depictions of vomiting. Reader uses she/her pronouns! wilbur soot masterlist

I was going to give you a heart-shaped necklace after a gig in Paris, but you met your future husband, and it wasn't me.

♡♡♡

“Will, seriously, we don’t have to do this, mate.”

I clutched the brim of the toilet seat. The bottomless pit in my stomach served me no good other than throwing up what little breakfast I had this morning. My temples pulsed as I could do nothing but kneel over what disgusting mess I’d created before me. I shook my head, exhaling a shuddered sigh. 

“I promised her. I promise we would perform…” I mumbled in a croaky voice. With what strength I could muster, I reached over to flush the toilet before standing up with wobbly knees. To prevent myself from stumbling I leaned against the stall’s wall, backing up a bit to unlock the door and to face my band mate. 

There stood Joe. The man that agreed to ditch our previous band to start Lovejoy. The man that has seen me through every breakdown and tear to my heart when I would catch a glimpse of her face at my shows. The man that has been with me through thick and thin. He gave me a half-hearted smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide his furrowed eyebrows and eyes glossing with concern.

“Will–���

“Joe, please!” I begged. I brushed past him and made my way toward the sink, washing my face to fight back the nausea. “I just– want to be there for her, okay?! I want to give her the most perfect day possible. I want her to feel like– like she’s on top of the world! And if performing for her and–” I choked on my own words, stumbling in my nonsense. “H-her fucking shit husband.” I propped myself on my elbows, staring at my reflection before looking at Joe. “Then fucking fine! I don’t even give a shit about him?! I care about HER!” I shouted, slamming my fists onto the marble counter. “ITS FUCKING FINE!”

But who was I kidding?

I put my head down, clenching my jaw to avoid any sobs that would’ve dared to escape my lips. Joe, with careful steps, approached me, placing a hand on my back. My quickened breathing started to ease down. However, that painful ache in my chest that felt like boulders pressing down my body remained. If the weight were to suddenly manifest in front of me, with open arms I would’ve accepted its crushing embrace, accepting the sweet release of death.

Yet here I stand in the bathroom with my bandmate and friend crying over what loss I had no way of preventing.

I’ve loved (y/n) since our first gig.

We had been friends for a while before that, but I distinctly remember telling her that my first performance will be the next day, and within the same hour, she called off of work and made plans to drive all the way to Brighton to come see me. Once she made it, she brought us cold bottles of water and showed nothing but her undying support.

When we had finished the performance, she ran up to me, and with open arms I engulfed her in the biggest hug, mumbling bits of gratitude in her ear as she exchanged back with praises. I felt like the happiest man on Earth. Nothing could strip away what joy she brought me for she has seen me through scrapped lyrics and broken guitar strings. 

I planned to confess to her on stage.

It was envisioned perfectly in my head. After our performance in Paris and the stage had been cleaned out, I would ask the stage crew if I could borrow the set for another hour. I bought roses, a mini stereo for us to listen to our favorite music, and a golden necklace to profess my love to her.

And oh, how I imagined her smile.

I was so giddy that day too. My heart was dancing in my chest and my energy reflected it like a mirror. I woke up early before everyone else despite the jetlag. I had the widest smile on my face each time I would brush my hand against my pocket, and there rested the velvet box which I shall present to her later. I told my bandmates my plan over soundcheck and they all cheered me on. There was not a single doubt she would say no.

That was until during the concert.

In the midst of me performing consequences, I searched among the crowd to find that face. That gorgeous face that would never leave my dreams. Eventually… I did find her. My eyes widened as I looked over to Joe, who caught the same sight as well. My heart, once pumping a lovesick melody, came to a stop and dropped onto the floor below me. There she was, with hands wrapped around the neck of a man I’d never seen. Their faces were just centimeters apart as those lips I only daydreamed of kissing were parted just for him. It felt like the world around me stopped moving, and despite the screaming crowd in front of me, I was only listening to an ear-ringing screech and my heart beating in my ears.

Painfully, I strained out,

“I’m yours. I’m yours! I’M YOURS!”

I liberated my pain and anguish in the final verse of The Fall. Thousands of fans screamed and cheered for me, but I was only met with lonesome. I looked over to (y/n) who was now clapping and cheering as well. The man still wrapped his arms around her.

I smiled at her, and she smiled at me back.

I didn’t dare to face her after the show. As soon as I left the venue I buried myself into hotel blankets and pillows as if this grief was pinning me down by the neck, choking me into this mattress as I lost all strength to get up. The next morning Mark noted that she was looking for me, but I shook it off. 

It took me a while to even face her again. When she asked me what happened that night I lied through my teeth and told her I was sick for a long while and didn’t want her to get sick either. It took persuasion like a lawyer to convince her, but she accepted it in the end.

I took in a sharp inhale, and looked up to meet Joe’s gaze. He looked over at his watch. “We’re going to be going on in ten. Are you ready?”

I looked back at my reflection, squeezing my eyelids shut to blink away the tears. Every breath I took felt like a shudder. My voice only came out in weary croaks. But still, I stood up straight and looked back at Joe.

“Give me five minutes.”

With what sanity I had left, I freshened myself up by washing my face and pressing down my suit and tie. After some soft encouragements to myself and convincing myself that I look fine, I pushed open the door and was again met with the dim-lit reception littered in white floral decor. People were happily dancing under the shimmering disco ball. Friends and family were laughing with one another at different white rounded tables topped with bouquets. Chefs were working promptly as they dished out all sorts of fresh foods for the ravenous guests.

But what stood out the most was the bride and groom, (y/n) and Jared, sitting at a long white table by themselves. They smiled at each other lovingly, holding each other’s hands on the table with their new golden bands wrapped around their finger. I bit the insides of my cheek, having to rip my gaze off of the couple, and headed toward the small stage where we were placed. Mark and Ash exchanged worried glances at the sight of me.

“Will, are you—”

“I’m fine.” I quickly muttered to Mark. I looked over to Joe. He checked his watch before nodding toward me. Ignoring the worried exchange of glances from my bandmates, I tapped on the microphone, grabbing the reception’s attention. The DJ ushered down his music.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we are Lovejoy.” I spoke in a low voice but forced a smile as I talked. “I’d like to, uh– congratulate the bride and groom over there. Hi guys.” I slightly waved to them as the guests cheered. (Y/n) grinned at me, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach. I looked down at my mic, determined to keep my focus.

“I’d like to especially thank (y/n). She’s been with me since we started this band, and I– I couldn’t be more thankful.” I looked back at her again, and there she was. Her stunning white gown was decorated with rhinestones. Her hair was styled beautifully, flowing gingerly with the soft AC cooling the venue. Her lips were colored subtly with a shade that matched her gentle skin.

What was missing was a pretty heart-shaped necklace that was supposed to be given to her after a performance in Paris.

I cleared my throat. “We’re Lovejoy, and this is Call Me What You like.”

I spent the next twenty minutes with the band as we performed various songs from our different EPs. My heart slightly ached with each song I shouted into the mic, knowing that most of these songs' meanings have changed over time. A breakup album dedicated to the United Kingdom? More like intense jealousy of wishing to get in between my friend’s healthy relationship because I’ve longed for her more than anything. 

We were nearing the end of our performance, with our last song “It’s all futile, it’s all pointless.” A song that she loved even before the band began. A song that she would ask for me to play when she used to visit my apartment. A song she asked me to teach her as she sat between my legs with her back pressed against my chest and I would guide her hands and fingers from behind. I closed my eyes and talked through the lyrics. The noise soon started to drown out. No longer there was an audience in front of me with guitars and drums to accompany my vocals.

I was back at my old flat, and there (y/n) sat on my couch as I sat on the floor. I was smiling up at her with fingers pressed against steel strings with my thumb rhythmically strumming down.

“We’re getting to your favorite part.” I noted. She giggled, kicking her legs.

“I know!” She beamed.

“Ready?” I asked, scooting closer to her. She nodded. With voices harmonizing we sang the final run of the song. I couldn’t help but stare at her. How she closed her eyes while she sang. How she fiddled with a pillow in her lap with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed, concentrating on getting the lyrics perfectly.

My only wish in this world is to drink in that look once again. To have a moment like that again.

I felt the tears pricking at my eyes as the memory fades out. The music and crowd crashed into my senses, and soon enough, I was back at this dreaded venue. With what passionate rage I had left, I belted out the final words. Her favorite part.

“Eat my rent!”

”and eat my food!” Her faded voice echoed back.

“And eat my dues–! 

“and eat those kids!” I screamed out the last words, straining what little voice I had left, letting the tears roll down my cheeks and onto my blazer. The band riffed into intensity as I felt the inside of my pocket again, the box still there. The guitars, the bass, the trumpet, and the drums, all halting to an end–

I looked up and smiled at her.

“And maybe use a sextant.”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ angsty hehe. this is my fav fic so far. reblogs are appreciated :D!!

[skiiyoomin]

hii bestiiee, i was the one asking if you do songfics a few weeks (?) back (idk why i clicked anon lol)

so my idea is friends by chase atlantic, denki x reader 👀

what (and if) you want to make out of this is up to you, would be cool if this inspires you 🫶

x sky

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Cont: Denki x reader, toxic relationships, swearing, gn!reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

a/n this is messyyy, but bare with me i tried

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღFriends

Girl, tell me what you're doing on the other side And so, just tell me what you're doing with that other guy 'Cause I ain't got patience to slow down the pace All your girlfriends are wasted They need it, they chase it Face it, you want it, you crave it Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it

Denki has felt confusion many many times in his life. Yet, they were all dimmed in comparison to the confusion he feels now. His eyes are glued on you. On your body as it sways to the beat of the music. The way your dress hugs all your curves just right. On the flashing lights of the party shining down on your skin. Had it been any other moment, he would´ve been taken by your beauty. But now he only feels a sourness envelop his tongue when his eyes trail over to the man glued to your side.

He hates it. Hates the seething jealousy he feels when your lips attach to his own. He had kissed your lips too. He´s sure he´s a far better kisser than that wannabe you´re making out with right now. He feels nauseous. Either from the overwhelming stench of drugs and alcohol, or from the sight of you in someone elses arms.

In a way, he feels a sense of betrayal too, even if he´s well aware he has no right to. You never labeled whatever you are. But is it really hard to miss the obvious tension between you? Everyone could see the fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the suave words that were borderline flirtatious. He had felt the passion you had kissed him with. Friends don´t kiss like you do. Right? He was convinced there was something more. So then, why are you kissing someone who isn´t him?

All of your friends have been here for too long They must be waiting for you to move on Girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone I'm not ready, eyes heavy now Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved Running in circles, now look what you've done Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

Your friends aren´t any better. They whisper things into your brain, so much so that you believe them. He isn´t right for you. You deserve better. Yet you´re the one that always ran in circles, repeating the same stories over and over. You´d run to him, and in those moments, he´d feel the happiest because he was with you. Because you kissed him and looked at him like he´s your world.

Then you´d run away again. And as much as he wanted to pretend like it doesn´t hurt him, it does. He hates seeing you go around, sleeping with guy after guy. No matter how many times he tried to reason with you, to talk it out, it always led to some sort of pointless argument. He should leave, he knows he should, but he can´t. You´re a drug he can´t get enough of. Because, shit, he´s so hung up on you. He´s wrapped around your finger and you don´t even seem to realize. Or care.

Just give me some time and space to realize That you, were busy lying, sleeping 'round with other guys And what the hell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends This doesn't make much sense, no But I'm not hurt, I'm tense 'Cause I'll be fine without you, babe

Once again, he feels that profuse sense of confusion. That line between friends and lovers was crossed long ago. Maybe it never existed. Yet you keep giving him mixed feelings. You kiss him, but you kiss other guys. So what the hell are you if not friends? He doesn´t know. He does know one thing however, he needs to clear the air. He stands up from the couch and heads over to you, and despite his nerves, he knows he has to do this, because at the end of the day, none of you are benefitting from whatever this is.

[crow-writer]

Riz Ariza - Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?) Apart from your body (which he is absolutely crazy for, especially your butt) Riz would love when you'd get sassy with him. You wouldn't actually be mean or disrespectful, but you have this wit about you, when you two are bantering that makes his knees weak. He loves it.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) Riz would probably not be that much of a family man. He does like children, but he sees himself more fitting for the 'coole uncle' role than actually being a dad.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?) He loves to cuddle and is really into physical touch in general, though it usually doesn't stop at innocent cuddling. His hands got a mind of their own.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?) At club parties he likes to show you off and rarely leaves you side, but those evening aren't really what he considers dates. His favourite type of date is spending the evening at home with you, ordering some food together. It's a well-needed distraction from everything going on with the club.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)) Riz has a lot of different pet names for you and probably uses them depending on his mood. When he's feeling cheeky he'd mostly call you something like azúcar (sugar). Other times it would be sweet names like mi amor or mi dulce (my sweet).

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?) So this could go two ways, depending on your character: Either the two of you would be this couple that practically got married after like two dates OR the two of you would tiptoe around each other for ages and drive everyone insane because the only two people not noticing how into each other you are, would be the two of you. It would be one of those two, there's not really an inbetween.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?) Riz is gentle with you in the way, that he'd always put your feelings first. He would never want to make you feel jealous or insecure and to reassure you and give you the feeling of security would always be a priority for him.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?) He isn't that much into holding hands. usually his arm would be around your shoulders or on your back.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?) His first impression of you would be that you seem to radiate sunshine. He'd hear you laugh as you'd joke around with Letty or Chucky and it would practically light up the whole room. That night he would try to remember the sound of your laugh when he'd try to fall asleep.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?) SO JEALOUS. He hates this about himself but when it comes to you he seems to lose his mind just at the thought of another guy hitting on you.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?) Riz is so passionate and this was already noticeable in your first kiss. He came back from a long run, shit went south with another MC and everything he could possibly think about was how he was so fucking tired of not being able to show you how he felt. So when they came back he walked straight up to you, his breaths heavy from beim nervous but he would look into your eyes and cup your face with both hands and just kiss you in front of everyone. He just couldn't take it one second longer.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?) You probably did. He wouldn't want to say it too early, because he was scared of pressuring you with the words. However once you said it, he would not shut up about it and tell you day and night.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?) One of his happiest memories was when the two of you weren't even together yet. It was a super warm day, even for Santo Padre and you were unloading the car at the yard when he arrived. He offered to help you and the way you smiled at him and thanked him made him feel some kind of pride that he still remembers very well.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) Sometimes money can get a bit tight, but he still finds ways to spoil you with little gifts like your favourite snacks. For birthdays or christmas he likes to go all out and make you feel like a queen. He will get a bunch of different gifts for those occasions.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?) When you two first met, you wore a light blue sundress and whenever he sees a colour close to that, he can't help but think of that day.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?) As said in letter E it would vary depending on his mood.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?) He hates texting. Yes it's practical now and then but he would much rather give you a quick call, hear your voice and talk to you than sending you messages throughout the day.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?) If he had the day off on a rainy day he would try to get you to stay in bed as long as possible. Sometimes it would be around noon before the two of you made it out of bed. Those days would be all cuddles, maybe a bath together and another nap in the afternoon.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves up?) When Riz is sad he would probably turn into this brooding mess, sort of trying to think things through but actually ending up feeling worse in the process. You would usually notice it pretty quickly when he was in this kind of mood and talking things out together would usually do the trick.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?) Riz usually doesn't like talking too much about his past or his childhood or stuff like that. He does really enjoy talking about every day life with you and tells you as much of his day and whats going on with the club as he can, without putting you or the MC at risk. It makes him feel connected to you and it shows you that he trusts you. He loves hearing about your day, he enjoys when you update him on the news about workplace drama and stuff like that. Other than that you two talk about your favourite shows or movies and sometimes when he's in the mood, he really likes to talk about what plans the two of you might have for the future.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?) Even though he loves cozy days at home with you, he is most relaxed when you're at the clubhouse or everyone's at your house. He feels relaxed when he doesn't feel pulled between life with you and his club. So having you by his side while he is also around his brothers makes him feel at peace.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?) He knows you love his hair and you know damn well that he also loves his hair. He takes quite a bit of pride in it and loves it when you stroke through it with you fingers while sitting in his lap.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?) Once the two of you were offically together it wouldn't take Riz long to propose. He didn't want to rush things and make you feel pressured, but for him the decision was pretty easy. He would propose at the clubhouse in front of everyone with a sapphire ring that he got pretty soon after you two became official.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?) "Hotel California" by The Eagles. It's the song that played on the radio when he first met you and even though he always liked that song, now it was kind of linked to you.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?) before you two met Riz didn't really care about marriages and stuff like that. It felt as if those things were for 'normal' people with 'normal' lifes and it didn't really fit with the kind of life he was living with the club. Once he met you though, the thought crossed his mind more often than he liked to admit, even before the two of you were together.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?) Riz would like a cat (yes, they both have pretty hair) because they really have their own minds and live on their own terms. Your cat would sometimes disappear for a day to do god knows what and then come back home and demand scratches and snacks. He'd admire that kind of attitude.