#I unconditionally love this album

[spoiledstrawberry]

Egberto Gismonti - Água & Vinho.

[planetary-go]

12 years of danger days no better time than to show off this tattoo of mine

[perfectlyoongi]

DAD!YOONGI who banish the monsters from your child's room. under the bed, inside the wardrobe or behind the curtain, Yoongi searched intensely around your kid's room looking for some monster that wanted to eat them while they slept; with a flashlight in his hand, cap pulled back and a badge your kid gave him saying “monsters out”, Yoongi made a point of going through every corner of the room, shouting at the monster behind the curtain and fighting with the one in the closet, and always leaving the room free of monsters. “don’t worry, little Min. the monster detective is going to search your room and kick all the greenies out.”

DAD!YOONGI who played basketball with your child on lazy sunday afternoons. Yoongi taught your child everything: how to shoot, how to do a trick, how to jump, all the basics were explored and memorized by your little kid; so, every sunday, Yoongi threw himself on the ground, threw the ball above the basket, ran slowly, all that just so he could hear the sweet laugh of the one he loved most. “mister referee, it was a foul! little Min threw me to the ground. they are evil!”

DAD!YOONGI who picks strawberries and pumpkins with your child. when the season invited him so excitedly to spend an afternoon digging in the dirt with his little child, Yoongi couldn't say no; since they were little, your kid went with Yoongi to greenhouses and farms, always choosing the biggest strawberries and the roundest pumpkins and arriving at home almost as dirty as their father. “when we get home, we’ll ask your dami to make strawberry jam for you to eat with your toast.”

DAD!YOONGI who lets his child play with his hair. it was already customary for Yoongi to sit on the floor and let his child's little hands create small hairstyles that had little precision and beauty; full of hair clips or pigtails, pulled back or with gel creating mountains, Yoongi never said no, even making suggestions, always laughing when you showed up with the camera ready to record those moments forever. “admit it. our baby made me the best hairstyle in the world. i’m going to use it on the next tour, what do you think?”

DAD!YOONGI who has your child's drawings in his studio. one of the walls of Yoongi's studio was like a gallery for your kid's most colorful and creative drawings; your family portrayed in a rainbow, Yoongi singing on the moon, you collecting shells on a beach, the drawings were immense, every one carrying a memory with them, always making Yoongi more relaxed every time his work became more frustrating. “is it me and your dami holding hands under that big heart? but where are you? our heart is only full with you between us.”

DAD!YOONGI who takes your child to lunch at their favorite fast food restaurant every now and then. hand in hand with your kid, Yoongi entered the restaurant with a very wide smile, already knowing what your child's order was, always asking for an extra one to give you at work so the three of you could eat as a family. “let’s do a surprise to your dami and show up at work so all of us can have lunch together?”

DAD!YOONGI who writes a new song for every birthday of your child and compiles it into an album to give to them when they turn 18. Yoongi only told you; every night on your baby's birthday, Yoongi would lean against you in bed, his head would rest gently on your chest as your hand repeatedly ran through Yoongi's silky hair and, wrapped in that love that he knew was eternal, Yoongi would focus in a new song for your child, always asking your opinion or suggestions. “i hope that when i give them the album, our angel realizes how much they mean to me and i hope they know i will always love them unconditionally.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Fiquei completamente apaixonada pelo imagine que você fez do Logan/Wade/Reader, queria muito outro assim, nada em especial, só mais sobre o relacionamento dos três (I'm really bad with requests, sorry)

(Rough translation by google: I was completely in love with the imagine you made of Logan/Wade/Reader, I really wanted another one like that, nothing in particular, just more about the relationship of the three) if it’s translated something within the request wrong, let me know.

Emotional support isn’t either Wade nor Logan’s strong suit. one made a massive joke out of everything, even his own feelings, while the other suppressed them unhealthily.

So needless to say if emotional comfort is what you were after, you were unfortunately out of luck but that didn’t mean that the pair were about to leave you to suffer alone during such a rough time in your life. Wade and Logan will find a way to help you anyway they could.

Wade would insist that you both have a spontaneous day where you’d do anything that came to your mind without judgment. You may or may not end up making dick cookies together in the kitchen whilst wearing your matching unicorn onesie pyjamas, covered in flour and other stuff.

Ass slaps -consensual of course- are a common occurrence between you, Wade and Logan…well mainly you and Wade…but Logan will gently tap your ass before kissing your forehead, meanwhile giving Wade the hardest slap that would leave a hand shape bruise that would last a week.

Cuddles are something that’s also frequent in your relationship with Wade and Logan but most -if not all- of the time you were in the middle of the both of them, leeching off of their warmth like the parasite you were but you were living the life.

Wade doesn’t care whether he’s the big or small spoon as either way he gets to be close to you in some capacity, where as Logan likes to be the big spoon so he could keep you safe and protected, always sleeping with his back to the door so that if anything were to happen they’d have to get through him.

Wade’s petnames for you are:

Cutie patootie with the booty

Peanut (something he also calls Logan)

Pookie/pookie bear

Sexiest person alive

Logan’s petnames for you are:

Darling

Sweetheart

That’s pretty much it as he’s not too overly worried about petnames, where as Wade has a thousand more up his sleeve that he pulls out of nowhere.

You and Wade would sometimes blatantly check out Logan whenever he’s shirtless and doing his one thing while you and Wade laid on the floor, feet kicking in the air as you both admired your hot partner. (Logan is very aware of what you two were doing but didn’t have it in him to say shit)

Dog pool is basically your, Logan and wades child and she is spoilt the fuck by the three of you for being the cutest dog you’ve ever seen. You dressed her up as Mary Poppins once for Halloween and now you have albums upon albums filled with pictures of dog pool in cute doggy costumes. This is her cannon event.

Logan has nightmares and would often act all cold and distant afterwards but you would gently grab his arm and pull him in for a comforting hug. ‘Don’t walk away,’ you said, ‘please we can figure this out together okay? You’ve been alone long enough, don’t for yourself to fall back into old habits when you’ve got two people who care deeply about you and want to see you okay.’ You add as you rub your hand up and down his back reassuringly until you manage to ease him back into bed and fall asleep on top of his chest so he doesn’t move.

You press kisses to Wade’s face and call him handsome, gorgeous, cutie, all sorts of names that have him feeling soft and fuzzy within his chest because he’s aware of how he looks, but you loved him unconditionally and would even help him with toupees and whatnot, though not before telling him that you find him attractive how he is and wouldn’t want him to change for anyone.

You got a lot of kisses and cuddles from him later because you had no right being that fucking cute!

[a-sip-of-milo]

Need a reason to live?

Recently, I made four polls with eleven reasons to live in each. Most of those reasons were given to me by people who have also been suicidal in the past, and I decided to compile them into one long list (plus some) for anyone who needs it to come back to when they're out of reasons to keep going.

⚠️ Disclaimer: Please do not turn this into one of those "ALWAYS REBLOG IF YOU SEE" posts. Thank you. ⚠️

Relationships

Your furry companion(s) (this means pets and friends who are furries <3)

Your friends

Your family

Those who look up to you

To reconnect with someone you haven't seen in a while

Your headmates (specific to those who are apart of systems)

There's someone who isn't around anymore who would want you to keep going

To eventually be a mentor to someone

To make sure your animals never have to sleep alone

To fall in love

Your partner

To meet your online friends/mutuals

To tell your mentor/the people who raised you with kindness that you made it

To see someone close to you through their final days

To make it big enough to eventually provide for those you care about

Your FP (personality disorder specific)

Group photos with your (found) family and friends

To help your friends do the same

The friends you've yet to meet

A promise you made to someone special

Acts of kindness

To be there when someone needs you

To see someone smile because of you

To make a stranger's day a little brighter

To hand out compliments to those who need it

To make the world a little bit better before you go

To treat the people around you the way you wish you'd been treated

To be the one person in someone's life who is there unconditionally.

To help someone you love to quit an addiction

To do charitable deeds

Affection

Hugs from someone you trust

Kisses from a partner, close friend or pet

Cuddles when it's cold/lonely

To laugh until your stomach hurts

Forehead touches

To hold someone so tight that they're wheezing

Doting on people when they're feeling down

To make the people around you laugh

Interests

That new game/movie/show/book/album/etc. that you’ve been waiting for

Telling everyone and anyone who will listen about your special interest/hyperfixations

To share creations that aren't appreciated enough

To save up for something that would make life more bearable

To finally complete a collection

Projects would be left unfinished

To travel

To complete a project you've been working on for a long period of time

Projects you've yet to come up with

To start participating in special interests you've had to put on hold

To laugh at the creations you made when you were younger and less experienced

Those who consume your work would never get to see another creation of yours

Spite (because I think spite deserves Its own section:))

To stick it to your abusers

To prove your younger self wrong

To prove the people around you wrong

To prove your younger self right

To prove the people around you right

To spit on the grave of someone who hurt you

As a big 'fuck you' to the world and everyone in it who tried to silence you

To outlive your enemies

To do something that you've never been allowed to do (get a piercing, tattoo, cut or dye your hair, etc.)

To show off your success to the people who doubted you

To make sure whoever hurt you doesn't win

Milestones

You've got a milestone of some kind that you'd like to reach before you go

To see your (future) children reach a milestone of their own

To see a birthday you never thought you'd make it to

To graduate from school

To see your wounds from self-harm heal

To experience old age

To get married

To recover from your eating disorder

To experience independence

To start/complete your transition

To go on your first date

To get your first job

To adopt a child and give them the life that they deserve

To rescue a pet and give them a home

To purchase your first car

To rent/purchase your first house/apartment

To have your first child

To lose your virginity

To experience the joy of knowing you escaped/got through a bad situation

To eventually publish your own book/art piece/etc.

Miscellaneous

To finally get diagnosed with something important

So if nothing else, you can still say you survived

You have a bucket list you'd like to complete

To live because you want to, not because others want you to

Comfort drinks with someone you love

You wrote a letter to yourself that you can't open until a certain date/birthday

Those rare and valuable pieces of media with good representation of a minority/marginalised group.

To read through past conversations with people and cringe/laugh/cry.

All the different foods you've yet to try

To see the world become more accommodating to those who need it

To watch the seasons change

To celebrate the holidays

For those days where you do feel okay, perhaps even good

To eventually replace the stuff in your closet with things that represent who you are now

To read back on journals and diaries you made when you were younger

If you are not in a place where any of these help, that's more than okay as well. It will be here if and when you ever need it. Being suicidal can be extremely lonely and scary and we all deal with it in different ways.

If you have your own reason and you feel comfortable sharing it with me, let me know via asks or DM and it will be added as soon as I can 💞

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hi hi! I saw you wrote for obey me and had a request!

I love Mammon with all of my being and hate that he gets bullied by his brothers so often. So can we get some reverse comfort of a gn! reader comforting Mammon after his brothers were a bit too harsh?? Kind of like cuddles and reassuring words?? (I just want the boy to feel loved)

Take your time and don't forget to eat and stay hydrated! <3

✨ After a particularly harsh round of teasing from his brothers, Mammon retreats to his room, feeling more down than usual. You notice his absence and decide to check on him. When you find him, he’s sitting on his bed, fidgeting mindlessly on his phone, switching idly between the same three apps. Without a word, you sit next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

✨"Oh, honey, my sweet, precious treasure... They hurt you again..." you try to wipe away his tears, but he jerks away, turning to his side; You have a perfect view of the nothing he was doing on his phone.

✨"I'm fine." he grunted. "I'm tired."

✨ You lay down on the bed and wrap your arms around him from behind; You hold him tighter, kissing his shoulder. Slowly, he relaxes into your touch, the tension leaving his body as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

✨You don’t need to say anything; your presence alone is enough to comfort him. In that moment, he realizes how much he appreciates having someone who understands and supports him unconditionally.

✨You can feel his body softly vibrating, before a sob escapes his mouth. He throws his phone away, along with his shades, and he hides his face into the pillow to stifle his cries and whines.

✨"Monnie, come 'ere, my cute little kitty. That's right - Nestle in my arms and let me take care of you. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here. I will protect you, my love. I will always protect you."

✨He only cries harder, turning to latch onto you like a desperate child, and he sobs away all of his anguish, without saying another word. That's what he needed; A shoulder to cry on, a warm embrace, a loving caress. He needed you.

✨Mammon fell asleep soon after, and it was your time to act.

✨First, you rounded up all the brothers like a herd and scolded them harsher than ever - For once, even Lucifer's scoldings seemed mild compared to this.

✨Next, you decided on a little project; You had a huge album of pictures with you and Mammon together, and you decided to print them physically and have an album for the both of you.

✨The next morning, Mammon wakes up not with you by his side, but with a photo album on his pillow. Confused, he gets up and opens it.

✨He flips delicately through every page, admiring every picture, and weeping as he remembers every memory and how he felt. He was always the happiest when you were with him - And it showed - Those smiles of his were truly the cutest.

✨Every picture had a small annotation, including the exact date when the picture was taken, and a little title.

✨"Love of my life" , "Most precious smile" , "Movie Date" , "Beautiful Monnie" , "Coolest Man Alive"

✨But his favourite title was "My Beloved Husband"

✨He may be crying now, but he knew, you were always his reason for smiling.

✨From now on, whenever he'd be feeling his heart heavy, he need only look at these loving memories, and he's back in track.

✨He finally has someone who truly loves and appreciates him, after so many thousands of years.

[comiicii]

Backdrop: Life had been mundane until you met Clark Kent.

Pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

Warnings: None, probably some grammatical errors and a little sadness if you’re a sap like me.

A's notes: inspired by ariana grande’s new album eternal sunshine, i’ll be doing a series of one shots based on the songs. they’ll be in no particular order and will be written for other characters but some will be featured more than once if they fit the song i’m writing about. ‘we cant be friends’ has me crying whenever i watch the video and i tear up a lot listening to it so enjoy this train wreck of a story.

Word count: 3.8k

For as long as you could remember, life was nothing special. It wasn’t horrible but you woke up most days simply doing work and trying to advance your career. Your life was mundane and filled with memories of you alone after moving to Metropolis. That was until you met him. Clark Kent. You had bumped into each other on your way into the Daily Planet for an interview. Well, it was actually you bumping into his broad chest and him catching you before you hit the marble floor. The softness in his deep ocean blue eyes were what made your heart do something it had never done. It felt like a pull in your chest that you hadn’t felt before. As if the universe made sense. Once you finally registered his apologies, you came to your senses and tried to apologize for not watching where you were going. Then he smiled. Now your stomach fluttered. That was not something your body usually did when it came to people. After he introduced himself, it was as if the world had color to it again.

It would be an understatement to say that you fell for Clark Kent. You deeply fell for Clark. Words could not express the love you instantly felt for him. And he fell just as hard for you. When he revealed his true identity to you, it only solidified the endless bounty of your love for him since he was willing to trust you with every part of himself that he didn’t share with the rest of the world. Life seemed to finally be worth living and getting up for. Every morning you rose with the sun and slowly forgot about those meek feelings that used to fill your body.

It wasn’t hard for the two of you to make some of the happiest memories together. Your then-apartment had been littered with trinkets that marked your happiest moments with Clark. Like the teddy bear he won for you when he took you to a carnival in his Kansas hometown. Or the homemade picture frame that had a silly selfie Clark took of the two of you while at work. Once you moved in together, the apartment you shared was filled with more memories the two of you made together. As a house warming gift, he presented you with a beautiful pendant necklace with both your birthstones that came together to make a heart. It’s a necklace you wear everyday and became a reminder that someone loved you unconditionally. When he proposed to you atop the ferris wheel, the ring was designed to match the necklace. Your wedding was small and intimate with just friends and family in attendance on the Kent family farm. It was the highlight of your life to be marrying the man of your dreams.

Life wasn’t always perfect with Clark though. Sharing your boyfriend (and eventual husband) with the world was not the easiest task to undertake but when he came home to you, those insecurities subsided. But those pesky feelings still lingered. Feelings of being unwanted and insecurities plagued the back of your mind. Besides, the Daily Planet constantly wrote puff pieces of his alter ego - with a few being written by you. As time passed and the world became more cruel, it became harder to keep those thoughts hidden. Little by little, those insecurities reared their ugly heads that led to some of the lowest of lows in your life since meeting Clark. He didn’t seem to understand why you were feeling as such and justified his work that it was his life’s purpose. And you didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t empathize with your feelings. You stood by him through thick and thin. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly that came with being Superman. You weren’t perfect either, though. You were an ambitious reporter and were climbing up in your career at the Daily Planet. Your work also came with some ugliness as you advanced in your career. This meant that the two of you were in the spotlight for your work. Two very different spotlights but spotlights nonetheless.

It hit particularly hard the one argument that ensued after he missed your first wedding anniversary. It was an important milestone that you had planned out for weeks. You had made reservations at the restaurant you had your first date on and he didn’t make an appearance until the morning hours of the following day. You had looked like a fool at the restaurant; patrons giving you looks of pity as you sipped on your water and twiddled your thumbs like a fool waiting for him. When he greeted you with a bouquet of lilies - the first drop of uneasiness touched your chest. You weren’t happy to see him. To see his sweet face you’d kissed good morning the morning before. To see his ocean eyes that carried such sincerity because he had broken a promise to you. He could see that he couldn’t avoid a fight with you because you didn’t look at him with love. Your eyes were filled with disappointment. The argument that ensued ended with him leaving for most of the day as you sobbed into your pillow. When he had returned you had awoken only to softly cry yourself to sleep again.

It took two days for the two of you to speak again and work through the argument. You both tried to be more mindful and quickly moved on from the unhappy moment. A part of you was content with the conversation and hopeful for what was to come with Clark. It wasn’t the first fight you two had but it was the first that hurt you so deeply.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the day you had asked for a divorce from Clark. It wasn’t something you planned but it wasn’t something you hadn’t contemplated in the recent year after your third wedding anniversary. It had come out of your mouth after another argument that was going nowhere. You had argued about how you were growing apart - how you had taken time off after planning to go away for a small vacation just the two of you and he wasn’t putting in the effort. He had come home late but it wasn’t because of him being Superman. It was because he worked late with Lois Lane on a story after he had told you that morning he’d be home to go on the trip. You were prepared to forgive him if it was because of his Superman duties but this was the last straw.

You weren’t the jealous type but even at work, it seemed like the two of you barely spoke as the years progressed. He got paired up with Lois for more stories and you didn’t like the sinking twist of your stomach whenever you saw Clark with her. They looked cute together and probably the office assumed he was sleeping with her given how flirty they tended to be (at least she was). The first time he noticed how much it bothered you, he assured you with his words and actions that he felt nothing for the reporter. He went as far as to give you a passionate kiss in the middle of the office, in front of Lois, as you bid him goodbye to go to an interview for a story you were writing. It had made you weak in the knees and you were close to pulling him into the archives room to continue the passion but you simply blushed and told him you loved him with the most love struck smile on your face. That squashed those insecurities for a while until you started noticing how close they’d sit together while brainstorming or how he began to stay later with her to work on a story. You tried not to be the jealous wife but you couldn’t help the green monster that was building on your fears and insecurities. The few times you brought it up afterwards, Clark was dismissive about your feelings. It hurt you. Hurt how little he seemed to care about your feelings.

From there, arguments were becoming more common. Filled with silence or one of you leaving the apartment for some time. It had become common practice to not speak to each other and eventually move on from the argument. You hated that your marriage had come to this point. After the last argument, you had left the apartment this time. You checked into a hotel and went to the bar for a drink. You looked at your ring and a tear ran down your cheek realizing that it didn’t give you hope. It didn’t give you the feeling you were hoping for because deep down, you knew that you couldn’t continue in the marriage if it wasn’t going to be mended. You had run the course of the marriage and it pained you. When you returned two days later, Clark was making lunch for both of you. He was prepared to go on the trip and put the argument behind. Your heart was racing because you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to end something you had hoped would never end but it had to end. You needed to be the one to make Clark realize that the two of you weren’t going to get the happy ending. Not with each other. You were prepared for him to be upset and yell and express every reasonable emotion. When you uttered those terrible words, he simply froze and you could see his heart shatter from the look he gave you because he knew you were going to see the divorce through. The day ended with you packing your things and going back to the hotel, retaining a divorce lawyer and hunting for apartments. You had managed to find a job as a journalist for a small paper and put in your two weeks at the Daily Planet. By the end of it all, all you gave Clark was a letter asking for forgiveness for ending your marriage. Detailing all the love you had for him was genuine and would always remain but that for now, your paths had to separate. You ended the letter acknowledging that the two of you couldn’t be friends but that you’d wait for that day to come. Wait for the day that he’d like you again. You’d wait for his love again.

Clark’s heartbreak was just about close to unbearable as he didn’t pull his punches during missions and even Bruce had to pull him back from time to time. He had clung to that letter you wrote him and cried so hard the day he received it. Beating himself up for letting one of the most important people in his life feel the need to cut ties with him. Letting you feel like you had to end your story together. You weren’t fairing much better. For the first few months, you were crying yourself to sleep almost daily. Life had become mundane and when you thought of Clark, it became sad and lonely. You hated the pain you felt in your chest that had spread to your whole body.

A coworker at your new job had seen how sad you were about your divorce and handed you an ad about Wayne Enterprises having technology that claimed to erase people from your memory. A part of you didn’t think such a thing existed but you knew Bruce wouldn’t build something if it didn’t work. When Bruce Wayne saw your name on the list of possible subjects, he reached out to you. Meaning, he paid a visit at your current apartment that was now closer to Gotham. You had known Bruce through Clark and knew of his alter-ego as well. Batman had actually saved you a few times when you were in Gotham chasing leads and doing interviews. When he first met you, Clark and you had been together for a year and had been invited to one of Bruce’s fancy charity events. He had seen how in love you two were. He hadn’t seen Clark so happy before you came into his life and he could see the adoration you held for the Kryptonian. Clark had even said to him that night that he was going to marry you. It warmed his heart to see how happy you two had made each other in such a short period of time.

You had ironically decided to have the procedure done on what would’ve been your fourth wedding anniversary. You looked down at the box that contained every memory attached to Clark. The receptionist had handed you a clipboard with a waiver to sign; giving Wayne Enterprises permission to move forward with the process. A nurse came out to call your name and you handed her the clipboard. She brought you inside and took the box of your memories. You sat down and took deep breaths, the nurse giving you a few minutes as she left to get he others for the procedure. You looked around at the room, it was meant to look comfortable given the severity of the process. There was a mirror on the wall to your right. You figured it was part of the original room and that maybe on the other side were boxes of other people’s memories.

On the other side of the mirror, Clark stood looking at your nervous self that waited for the technicians to arrive. Bruce had elected to do the procedure himself for his friend after informing him that you had signed up for it yourself. Clark had come in on the same day per Bruce’s request since he figured it was best for it to be done on the same day for the both of you. Clark had come in with a box full of memories connected to you. Pictures that he had of you and different items you had gotten him through the years such as the bracelet you made for him while he was away on a mission with the Justice League. You had put beads with your initials on the bracelet and just like you wore your necklace, he wore his bracelet. The box also contained a picture he had taken of you out on his parent’s farm the weekend he brought you home to meet Ma Kent. The box unsurprisingly contained a great deal of pictures of you that he took. Some silly ones, cute ones, romantic and his most cherished one was at the top of the pile. It was a picture of the two of you kissing on your wedding day. Clark had taken it himself with his digital camera he carried everywhere with him. His other favorite picture was one of you under the covers, smiling and looking so peaceful and happy as he took the picture, wearing one of his flannels. It was taken the morning after he proposed to you. You had a picture of Clark in your box that you had taken a few seconds after he took that photo. He didn’t want to put anything in the box and be selfish but he knew for it to work, he had to follow Bruce’s instruction. The one item that wasn’t in the box was the letter you wrote him after your divorce. The one that solidified your parting of ways. He gave the letter to Bruce and told him wished he hadn’t made you feel so hurt that you had to do this.

With that, the billionaire decided to tell his friend that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had gone through this procedure. Two years prior to the two of you meeting, you both had been together for three years and had a great falling out that ended the relationship. It was enough to bring the both of you, at separate times, to him and ask to have your memories of each other erased. Bruce wanted to tell you but the sadness reflected in your eyes was enough to keep his mouth shut. Maybe deep down you knew that this wasn’t the first time you wanted to erase Clark from your life. You loved him so deeply that the only way for life to move forward again, he had to be erased. Clark didn’t realize he was crying as he heard his friend recount the first time you two had come in and watched you play with the pendant necklace he gave you when you moved in together. He still remembers how nervous he was to gift it to you; worried it was not going to be your style. He remembers how his heart leaped when you squealed with joy at the present. His heart felt heavy knowing you still wore the necklace despite being divorced. It was bittersweet hope that maybe you’d be able to try again without having to do this. He wanted to break through the window and beg you not to forget him but he knew that once your mind was made up, you saw it through. So, he sat down and asked Bruce to erase his memories of your relationship. All Clark wanted was for you to be happy. If that meant erasing him, he would learn to live with that.

As you closed your eyes, recounting the countless memories you had made with Clark for the last five years, it was hard to hold back the few tears that wet your cheeks. Your breathing got heavy as Clark disappeared from your life. Your fingers reached for your necklace - the remaining piece of the love you were erasing from your entire being. You looked at the nurses beside you, asking with teary eyes if you could keep just this one memory for yourself. You softly begged them as one nurse held your hand and told you that it was going to be okay, that the process was almost complete. You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes as your fingers cling to the pendant; feeling the final memory of Clark’s ocean eyes fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you were slightly disoriented but greeted with the kind face of the nurse. She asked if you were okay and you smiled. You knew whatever just happened, it worked because there was a lightness in your chest. It felt as though you were brand new. As you stood from the chair, you thanked everyone. Without noticing, Bruce Wayne had come in to the room to congratulate you on the success of the procedure. You thanked the billionaire and went about your day. You took in the crisp afternoon air of Gotham and headed back your apartment. Clark came out the building a few minutes after you.

A few years later, life was certainly different. You had landed a job working for the Gotham Gazette as the lead investigative reporter and had made a name for yourself. You were content with life but there was something missing. At night, you found yourself out on dates that never led anywhere. On the nights where it was particularly bad, you phoned your billionaire friend Bruce Wayne whom you grew closer to in the following years with working at the Gazette. He became a confidant for your woes and wishes of your life. Bruce had come to deeply care about you after you had the procedure. Part of the reason was because Clark asked him to look out for you since he wouldn’t be able to. He couldn’t help to grow close to you because you were that type of soul that brought a warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt since he lost his parents.

Clark had focused on his work in the following years of his procedure. He had struck a relationship with his coworker, Lois Lane. They had been together for three years but it wasn’t working. Mainly because Clark hadn’t felt he could spend his life with her. She was beautiful, smart, ambitious and just about everything he could ask for in a partner but there was something missing. He couldn’t put his finger on it and quite frankly it killed him to continue in a relationship he knew wasn’t going to end in marriage.

Bruce had invited you to his charity event to raise money for the orphaned children of Gotham. He always invited you since he knew it could be good for networking for you and every now and then, you would get a date out of it. Clark and the other Justice League members were in attendance for this event as they knew this was an important cause for Bruce. Clark had just broken up with Lois the week prior and had been sulking, He originally wasn’t going to attend the event but Bruce and the others convinced him that a night out would be good for him.

A couple of hours into the event and you find yourself feeling out of place. Especially with the dress you chose; it was from a thrift shop you had found in Gotham and it had more of a bohemian look to it rather than the posh aura the other attendees wore. Bruce had checked in with you a few times to make sure you were okay; knowing how intense the scene of the Gotham elite could be and assuring you in the process of how beautiful you looked. You found yourself at the bar, grabbing what seemed to be your fifth flute of champagne for the night. Your spacial awareness was starting to go so it wasn’t surprising when you bumped into a large figure at your side, spilling some of your drink on him. You were a mess apologizing to the man. You were expecting him to make fuss but it was a pleasant surprise when you heard him softly chuckling at you. You were flushed with embarrassment but when you stared into the eyes of the man, your heart stopped. Meeting his deep blue eyes spread a warmth the champagne earlier hadn’t achieved. His heart also seemed to stop upon meeting your gaze. Your eyes made him feel like he had finally come home after a long journey of searching.

To continue having you in his presence, he joked that you owed him a dance in order to make up for ever so slightly wetting the sleeve of his navy blue suit. Hearing the slight mischievous tone only made you laugh in agreement, a sound he already found addicting. When he pulled you close to him, you hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating. As you followed his lead, you relaxed and he took the opportunity to ask for your name.

“Y/N.”

“Clark.”

[gingiesworld]

Missing Piece

Taylor Swift x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @lizzieislife94x

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N Y/L/N was a name that no one in the public had heard of, although they were the one that Taylor had loved with all of her. But the moment she had gotten bigger, her name was known worldwide, every teen girl was a huge Swiftie. Tickets would be sold out worldwide. But the break up was always raw in the back of her mind.

Y/N knocked on her door, after dating since Junior year in high school. They had watched as she released her first album. Her first tour was only small but Y/N had supported her dream.

"Y/N, I thought our date was tomorrow." She spoke as she stepped outside.

"No." They told her as she observed the sad look on their face. "I can't do this, us anymore Tay."

"Don't." She told them as she stepped away. "Don't you finish that sentence."

"You're going to be huge, Taylor. Your music's taking off and I am just me. A simpleton."

"No." She told them with tears in her eyes. "You're more than that."

"I don't want to hold you back. You're meant to be more than just this small town girl." They told her. "This is all I am meant for, I go to a community college for crying out loud."

"I don't care." She told them. "We can make this work." She cupped their face as they exhaled a shaky breath.

"No." They told her. "I can't keep doing the long distance. I can't keep you from being who you're meant to be."

"I love you." She told them as they kissed her forehead.

"I love you but I have to let you go." They told her, releasing her and moving away from the porch. "Just promise me one thing. That this place here, at Christmas will always be ours."

"I promise." She told them as they gave her one last smile.

That was the last she had seen or heard of them. Although they had kept the same number, Taylor had never lost it, always transferring it to her new phones. She always wondered if they had ever gotten out of the town, if they had managed to get a job or career away from where they had grown up, but Y/N wasn't that lucky. Unfortunately they remained working on their parents ranch, although they had a teaching degree, they just couldn't put it to use as their father had fallen ill, landing them with more responsibilities.

But they had made sure to buy every record that Taylor had made, everytime she was performing live nearby, they would be in the crowd. A proud smile on their face as she played her music as everyone cheered.

She never knew that they had supported her, or that they were in the crowd every time she played in their home town. They heard about every relationship, every break up that she had gone through. Wondering why no one would love and care for her the way she deserved. She deserved more than what those relationships had given her. She deserved to be happy and loved unconditionally. Just how Y/N had always loved her.

Every Christmas, they returned to the place where they would walk, the snow covered hills and trees as the cold wind cut through their skin. There was a lake nearby that froze over every year, but it was always thin, not safe to walk on.

"I love this." She whispered as Y/N smiled at her. Admiring her rosy features as the frost bit her skin.

“I love you.” They whispered as she smiled at them.

That was the last exchange they had before Taylor had stopped coming to their spot. Leaving Y/N to wonder every year how the rising star was doing. If she thought of them as much as they thought of her.

They saw articles of Taylor moving forward with her life, moving on with new relationships. So, while they were at college, they met the woman who would become their wife and the mother of their children, but that was all short lived.

“You keep saying how you love me, but I can see it.” Tracy told them. “Your heart isn’t mine. It never was.”

“Trace.” Y/N tried as they reached for her, only for her to flinch and step back. “I do love you. I love you and our girls.”

“I know you do.” She sighed in defeat, her tears falling. “But your heart isn’t in this marriage and I know it hasn’t been since we got together. I tried to ignore it, I really did, but I need to do this for me.” Y/N bit their lip as they looked away from her. “I think we need a divorce.”

“No.” They whispered as she moved to cup their face.

“We can still be friends, raise the girls together.” She told them. “We just can’t be us anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” They whispered as they closed their eyes.

“It’s ok.” She told them softly. “I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you.” She kissed their lips one last time before packing herself a bag. Leaving Y/N in the bedroom alone, feeling like their whole world was crumbling.

The divorce proceedings ran smoothly, the two had taken 50/50 custody of the girls. What Y/N never expected was to do christmases without their daughters. But since the moment Tracy had met her now fiancè, they felt out of place spending the holidays there. Although the girls tried to make them feel at home, they never did.

That was how they ended up where they are now, sat in their usual spot, watching over the frozen lake. The one place they always felt at home, soon broken from their reverie as they heard the snow crunch beneath someone's footsteps.

“Hey you.” They heard the one voice they longed for.

“You’re here?” They asked shakily as they rose to their feet, watching as she nodded with a teary smile. “But your dream?”

“Means nothing if you’re not there with me.” She told them honestly. “I always felt as though a piece of me was missing, but I figured it out.” She cupped their face as she gazed into their eyes. “It’s you. You’re my missing piece.”

“I love you.” They whispered as they felt the warmth radiate from her, noses touching as their lips ghosted the other.

“I love you.” She whispered before kissing them softly. The first time it felt like they were complete, the reason why neither could truly move forward was because the other had their heart. The first Christmas in years that the two felt at home.

[anothermansjeans]

singer!reader's albums

a/n: hello lovelies, to feed you, i have made playlist for 2 of singer!reader's albums!! i imagine she would probably have 2 or 3 albums out before these two, but i wanted to capture the album right before her and spencer start dating and the album after they've been together for a little while 🫶 i will have a blurb for these babes up later today!!

singer!reader masterlist

rebuilding

track list: spotify | apple music

1. young god

2. lemons

3. i'd rather be alone

4. the bolter

5. the smallest man who ever lived

6. vicious

7. happier than ever

8. my kink is karma

9. guilty as sin?

10. picture you

11. risk

12. supernatural

13. rebuilding

favorite

track list: spotify | apple music

1. kiss

2. nonsense

3. dress

4. king of my heart

5. so it goes...

6. into you

7. dangerous women

8. HOT TO GO!

9. talking body

10. walk like this

11. nasty

12. positions

13. favorite

Singles

espresso

vigilante shit

unconditionally

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[raina-at]

Family

More in the 'Mark and Rosie' 'verse, and since some of you asked to meet Mark, well, here he is.

-----

“And this is Uncle Greg,” Rosie says, pointing at the picture. They’re curled on the sofa in Rosie’s room, going through Rosie’s old photo album. “He was Paps’ best man,” she adds, pointing him out in the group photo of her fathers’ wedding. 

“He’s a fox,” Mark mutters, putting an arm around Rosie when she pokes him playfully in the ribs. “How are you related to him again?”

“Not at all. He’s Paps’ and Dad’s best friend.”

“You dads have a mutual best friend? That… must have been complicated for him in the past,” Mark observes, keeping his tone carefully neutral. He knows a lot of family history from Rosie, and he imagines navigating between these two strong but complicated men can’t always have been easy.

Rosie shrugs. “It’s not so bad. He’s sharing Paps with Aunt Molly, and she takes most of the emotional stuff. Dad’s far more stiff upper lip, so he and Greg mostly go to the pub and watch rugby.”

“Who’s Aunt Molly again?”

Rosie points to her in the group picture. “She had a bit of a pash on Paps, but she got over it, thank god.” She shudders. “Can’t imagine what she was thinking, Paps would have eaten her alive.”

“Some people like that,” Mark says, giving Rosie an insinuating smile.

Rosie blushes adorably and mutters, “Shut up, my dads are downstairs.”

“I told you we should have gone to mine.” 

Rosie rolls her eyes. “If you’re not interested, just say so,” she says, making to rise.

Mark pulls her back and kisses her neck in apology. “Sorry, sweets. Just teasing. Of course I’m interested. Especially since sooner or later I’m going to meet all of these people, and if they’re even a bit like your fathers, most of them will threaten to kill me, so I’d better learn about their weaknesses.”

Rosie laughs. “True enough.” She opens the album again and points at the pictures. “Uncle Mycroft won’t even have to threaten you, he’ll just give you a look, and that’ll be enough to put the fear of god into you. Greg and Molly are probably both going to be fairly direct about it, but they’re actually harmless. Nan and Granddad will probably not threaten you at all, they’re too polite. Fair warning, though, Hudders can get dangerous. Don’t underestimate her under any circumstances. I know she’s eighty-five and looks like Mary Poppins’ gran, but she’ll take you aside at some point and threaten to cut your balls off, and believe me, she’ll be completely serious and capable of doing it.”

Mark swallows, looking from the picture to the girl next to him. She’s radiant today. Hair in a messy ponytail, ancient jumper, ripped jeans, entirely at ease in her skin as always. It’s the most attractive thing about her, that complete self-confidence. She’s brilliant and beautiful, of course, but what makes her irresistible to him is the air of a person who can’t imagine what it’s like not to be loved unconditionally. Looking at the group of people making up Rosie’s family, he understands why now. Must be nice, he thinks. Knowing so many people would get murderously violent on your behalf. 

“What?” Rosie asks, blushing a bit under his scrutiny. “I know my family’s weird, and a lot—”

Mark puts a finger over her lips and smiles. “Ro, every family’s weird. We all have aunts we’re not related to and weird uncles and friends we love as siblings. I was just thinking that I hope one of these days they’ll protect me too.”

Rosie grins and leans in, brushing a soft kiss over his lips. Her eyes are fierce and flinty, and he’s reminded of both her fathers when she says, “Don’t worry, love. That’s my job.”

Mark pulls her in for a long kiss, thinking, If I get murdered for this girl, I’ll die a happy death.

---

I need a name for this 'verse at some point.

Tags under the cut as always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @salmonsown @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty

[ughgoaway]

please, take my hand.

Content warnings: swearing, body insecurity, slut shaming, kinda shaming of sex workers (sex work is real work y’all), calling Matty short (so real), Gilmore Girl reference (it is where I got my nickname from after all), overuse of commas, possibly bad writing and mentions of smut but nothing really. word count- 3.7k ish

a/n: ahhhhhhh here it is!!! anon, I hope you like it and that I did your request justice, If I didn't, please feel free to send it to other writers so they can!! but this was the most I've written in AGES, so even if you don't like it, thank you for helping me actually write! the scenes in Italic are flashbacks, and im really hoping this plot isn't too confusing?? also, I struggled so hard for a title for this... why are titles so hard??? if you hate it or have a better suggestion, I am OPEN. and finally, as usual, I do, in fact kinda hate this... here it is anyway y'all!!!

You stare at the reflection in front of you, the sparkles of your dress glimmer in the low light as you analyse your body. Something you know you shouldn't do, yet you do anyway. The cups of the dress accentuate your chest just the way it's meant to, and yet you don't think it looks right. The nude fabric below the glitter makes you look as if you were glowing from within, but to you, you felt like a knockoff Edward Cullen. The thin straps trail over your shoulders and cross over in the back. Most girls would feel beautiful and seductive, but all you could focus on was if your tan was even.

Behind you, your boyfriend of 6 months slides up and places his hands on your waist. “This is it,” you think, who else better to build your self-esteem than the man who should love you unconditionally, who should worship the ground you walk on and take any opportunity to gush over his beautiful girlfriend. It seems Cole just wasn't that type of boyfriend.

“Isn't this a bit much… I mean, it's a party at George’s for Charli's new album, you're not working the street corner outside. I don't need everyone to know what you look like when I fuck you.”

Oh.

You physically feel yourself deflate, your hands reach and cross over your stomach before sliding up to your chest. You look up at his face in the mirror. A sick smile graces his features as he laughs at his comment. 

Your fingers shake as you grip your shoulders, Cole grips one of your hands and slips his hand below your chin, forcing your face up to look at his in the mirror.

“You can wear it this once, baby, but after that, it needs to go - okay?” he says as if he's doing you a favour, and for some reason, you feel like he is. You nod and give him a small reassuring smile in the mirror that he returns before turning and leaving the room.

You stay standing, staring, analysing until Cole calls your name and you stumble to the door and out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bass rattled the door as you stood outside, the bottle of wine in your hand feeling far too formal once you swung it open and looked out on the sea at the half-drunk people.

A voice you recognised finally rang out from the crowd in front of you, "Y/n! Cole! Hi, come in" George ushered you in with a wave of his hand.

You smiled and went to hug George only for Cole's grip to tighten on your waist, you glance back at your boyfriend and scrunch your face in confusion at his actions. George looks at the pair of you questioningly but decides not to push it just smiling and graciously accepting the wine you hand to him. 

Charli soon appeared behind George and greeted you. She practically tore you out of Cole's grip and gave you a bone-crushing hug. Cole dragged you back and grabbed your hand as soon as you were back in reach, seemingly staking his claim.

Before long, Charli was dragging George off with a sly smile on her face, “Drinks are in the kitchen, Help yourselves!” George shouted as he was being pulled away by his doting girlfriend. 

You walk through the party staring around at the room full of people, Cole's hand is holding yours, and it feels as if your skin is burning. You are pretty sure you see Jack Antonoff somewhere in the crowd, but before you can look too closely, you hear a voice you know all too well travel from the kitchen.

“Well if it isn't the life of the party finally arriving,” Matty began, shamelessly staring you up and down, “y/n! My darling, how are you!” he said, very clearly ignoring the man currently gripping your hard so hard you're sure there will be finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.

You managed to wrench your hand away from Cole and stroll up to Matty, he wolf whistles as you walk across the kitchen to him and you feel your cheeks heat up at his shameless flirting. You try not to read too much into it, knowing what he's like.

Having been friends with Matty for the better part of a decade means you know what he's like, always ready to chat up anyone as soon as he gets a few drinks in him. Hell, you're pretty sure you've seen him trying to pull Ross on a few occasions when he'd had too many tequila shots.

“Wow darling, you have truly outdone yourself this time,” Matty said, his jaw practically on the ground. He stuck his hand out towards you indicating for you to grab it. You tentatively grip his hand only to be spun around on the spot by the curly-headed man. A light giggle escaped your lips and Matty felt his heart constrict on the spot.

Considering he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you, that was to be expected.

“This might be the best you've ever looked sweetheart, going to have men throwing themselves at you all night. Maybe a few girls too” Matty said, throwing you a wink with a teasing click of his tongue.

He actually wanted nothing less than to see men draping themselves over you but he couldn't help but compliment you whenever he got the chance, he always saw it as a way to confess his love without having to say those words.

Cole strolled over and pulled your hand out of Matty's grip, if you were honest you had forgotten you were holding it. It was then Matty realised there was indeed one thing worse than seeing men fawn over you, it was seeing your idiot boyfriend act like he owned you all night.

“Alright, Matty?” greeted Cole, clenching his teeth and nodding his head at the shorter man. The anger bubbling beneath the surface was clear to you and Matty, the latter couldn't help but get one last jab in at Cole.

“Hi, Cole.” Matty said dryly, “You are one lucky bastard mate, what other girl would dress this beautifully for a party at a friend's house” he finished his statement by throwing a smirk in your direction. 

You heard Cole mutter under his breath and tensed, knowing what was coming. Suddenly a gush of vitriol came spewing out your boyfriend's mouth directed at Matty. 

“Listen here you scrawny little shit-” began Cole leaning in and towering over the man below him who despite what was expected of him, stood his ground and started up at Cole with an unbothered look on his face. 

You quickly got between the two men, placing your hand on Cole's chest and pushing away. You could feel his rapidly beating heart beneath your palm, it scared you how familiar this situation was for you. Having pushed Cole away from far too many fights in your short relationship.

“Cole just leave it, Matty is my friend. Please don't be an asshole,” you say desperately staring up at the man in front of you, hoping your eye contact would calm him down.

“An asshole?” scoffed Cole condescendingly, “fuck you y/n, I can't deal with this prick any more. I'm leaving” Cole finished his sentence by storming off out the front door, slamming it behind him. Luckily the booming music meant no one saw his childish outburst.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you stared in the direction he left. Why the fuck did he act like this, you remember falling for him. He was the perfect man, with flowers and gifts all the time. He planned dates and surprised you all the time.

Yet as the months dragged on he became a man you didn't recognise. Slowly he became controlling, it started with small things, something as simple as what tea brand you buy but soon it changed into everything. What you wore, who you spoke to, when you went out. 

Your friends were drifting apart from you, but Cole assured you it was a good thing. They weren't worth your time anyway. When this invite came through, you almost immediately denied it, assuming Cole would never let you go, but to your shock, he agreed. What a good choice that seemed now.

You ran after your boyfriend, quickly followed by Matty close behind. You caught Cole’s shoulder as he walked over the grass outside George’s house. You briefly noticed how nice the flowers were, making a mental note to compliment them when you returned to the party.

Matty stood at the door watching you plead and beg your boyfriend to stay. Catching bits and pieces from where he stood, he began to walk closer when he saw Cole wrench his arm out of your grip for the third time, worried he was about to hurt you. 

“Please Cole it's just Matty being Matty. If you knew him like I do, you would know it means nothing. Please” you cried and begged the man in front of you, watching his nostrils flare and the vein in his forehead grow with each passing moment. 

“Oh fuck off y/n,” he spat angrily at you, “if you can't see that he's madly in fucking love with you then you're even more stupid than I thought.” he finished with a glare behind you and stormed off and this time you didn't follow. You stood in shock.

The cold air seemed to catch up to you then, the heat of the moment had been keeping you warm. The breeze blew through you as you curled in on yourself, tears streaming down your cheeks. A hand from behind reached forward and gripped your shoulder. You shrugged it off and turned around to see who it was, despite knowing exactly who you'd see.

“Dont touch me, Matty,” you say staring at him with a resentful tone to your voice, “Why do you do that. Why do you flirt with me when he's there. You know he gets jealous” you shout at the curly-headed man who scoffs and shakes his head at your comments.

“He gets jealous?” Matty shouts back incredulously, “he's a fucking dick y/n! All he does is put you down and walk around acting like he owns you! Why are you even with that asshole?” he finishes with a shout, his chest heaves with effort.

“It's not like I have many options is it Matty!?” you shout back, staring questioningly at the man a few feet in front of you. Matty stares back at you with a disbelieving look on his face, “Oh, don't look at me like that,” you say with a wave of your hand, “Am I just too unlovable, is that it?! Am I just so inherently unlovable that I'm stuck with men like that my whole life?!” you scream at him, black tears drip off your chin onto the ground below you as you drop your head.

“I love you!" he shouts back with wet eyes and a heavy chest.

Your head shot back up at his words, "No you don't. Stop. don't say that, Matty, it's not funny, " you whisper back at him, staring blankly.

“I do, please I do,” he says walking towards you. You take a step back as he approaches. Not believing what is happening. 

“Please just- stop okay” Matty pleads with you, you stand still as he walks closer, and soon he is in front of you staring down into your eyes.

He briefly admires your eyelashes, heavy with tears. And your glossy eyes staring up at him. 

“Please let me just speak okay, let me explain how serious I am. Please.” he pleads with you, your small nod makes him continue.

He then breaks down and explains when he realised he was in love, and how it fucked with his mind endlessly.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

matty can still distinctly remember when he first realised he loved you. It wasn't during some big dramatic moment, there was no celebration, cake, or streamers. just you.

It was when you all went into the countryside for Adam's birthday, you rented a cottage for you all to stay in. All Adam wanted to do for his big day was get pissed and make music in this beautiful house and you were all more than happy to oblige.

It was midday when Matty woke up draped over a sofa still in his clothes from the night before. He hissed as the light hit his eyes, not entirely sure why the world would punish him at that moment.

He looked around and saw everyone in a similar situation to him. Poor George was cramped in a small armchair, Matty having taken the only place the giant could've slept comfortably. 

The birthday boy himself was sprawled on the floor, wrapped in the rug with Carly lying on his chest. Ross and Waughy were lying in a similar pose on the other side of the coffee table, but with a very small Jamie squished between the two of them.

Matty couldn't help but notice the lack of one person, always seeming to notice when you weren't in a room. He was always drawn to you, and at that point, he didn't quite know why.

Before he could sit on that thought too long everyone else began to stir, a cacophony of groans and grumbles soon came out of the severely hungover group.

"Am I dead? " croaked out Adam, already hacking up a lung at having spoken 3 words earning him a whine and a slap from his sleeping wife.

"No mate," Matty began, "just hungover in our 30's. Does anyone want a cuppa?" he asked, knowing the answer would be a resounding yes.

He stumbled into the kitchen with a mental order for 4 cups of tea, 2 coffees and one "go fuck yourself" for George. He really was a grump when hungover.

Once again he hissed at the light once he entered the kitchen and began looking for the window that was causing the awful beam.

But he stopped in his tracks once he saw you, you had obviously snuck away at some point this morning without waking anyone else.

You sat in the small nook below the window, a pink blanket was tossed over your bare legs as you stared out and the garden, wishing you could live here forever.

You didn't hear Matty come into the kitchen, so you stayed blissfully unaware of the man currently staring at you in a state of shock.

The glow of the sun reflected on your face, illuminating your features. Matty stared as the sunlight danced across your cheeks. He could see your eyes skittering over the garden, no doubt scouting out a place to sit and read later. He followed the flutter of your eyelashes down to your cheeks, somehow perfectly pink and full despite a night of drinking. If Matty hadn't seen you drink 4 shots last night, he would have never believed you could've had a single drop of alcohol. 

Matty thought to himself at that moment, "Oh shit. I'm in love with her," when he saw you there.

He's never felt more cliche, but it was as if lightning had stuck him where he stood. But once he knew, he realised it had never been hidden. Every stolen touch, every lingering glance was a confession of love.

Matty yearned for you. Your melodic laugh that you insisted was a cackle, your bashful smile as you try not to preen over someone's compliments (usually his), the red that decorates your cheeks every time you drink a little bit too much wine. He craved it all.

Every part of him was made for loving you. It was the easiest thing he's ever had to do.

The realisation almost bowled him over, he gripped the corner of the kitchen counter to ground himself. He stared in awe, just watching you breathe as you stared out the window.

Soon, a wave of nausea reminded him of his purpose, and he busied himself making the myriad of teas he had promised everyone. Even managing to speak up to offer you one, but that realisation never left him.

As Matty recounted that story he saw your eyes get misty with tears, the words were flowing out of him and he couldn't stop before telling you another time he felt sick with his love for you.

He told you about the holiday in France you all took, 3 months after he realised he was ridiculously in love with you. But it was also 2 months into your relationship with Cole, and Matty had just begun to stitch himself back together.

The stitches were wonky and misplaced, he bled beneath them whenever he saw you together. But he was trying. He continued to try and fix his weeping wound, despite deep down knowing the only real fix was not seeing you, but how could he not?

He watched the waves crash over your form in the ocean, you were wildly laughing as you almost tumbled over from the force. The straps of your swimsuit nearly become untied from the crash of the waves.

When you had strolled out earlier in your suit, Matty felt his heart skitter, a simple black suit to most, but to Matty, it made his palms sweaty and his stomach leap.

The thin straps crossed over your shoulders and met behind your neck. A neck matty though would look so beautiful marked up, by him especially. The waist of the suit hugged you perfectly, making Matty dizzy at the sight of your curves. It sat low in the centre of your chest, and your glowing skin teased him mercilessly.

He felt his hands twitch at his sides when Cole ran over to you, bowling you over and pulling you into the salty waves behind you. 

He thought, if it were him with you he would have slid up behind you, wrapped his hands around your waist and kissed your neck. Taking the brute force of the waves himself and letting you stand without worry of falling over.

He'd brush your sandy hair to one side and bury his face in the other. He'd breathe you in, the jasmine perfume you always wore would override his senses and he'd bury his nose deeper. He'd smile bashfully at your giggles and teasing, leaving small pecks that only caused you to laugh more.

But he wasn't doing any of that.

He was sitting on a towel watching you fight in the waves with the man who had everything he wanted but had no idea. He decided then and there a small bit of flirting wouldn't hurt anyone.

Well, it would hurt him, but matty chose to push that down and bottle it up. Knowing it would rip open his wound but he would rather slowly bleed to death with you than heal without you near him.

As Matty finished that story he saw you itching to say something, he quickly finished what he needed to say and prepared for the inevitable rejection. 

"So I started just… flirting. nothing too much, just enough to get your cheeks to colour and Coles fists to clench. Just enough to brighten you up again. I missed you being bright sweetheart."

Matty tensed as he finished as if preparing for you to scream at him.

You stared blankly at the man in front of you, his months of pining were lost on you. 

Of course, you noticed the flirting, everyone noticed the flirting. It was Matty, you're sure he'd have chemistry with a wooden broom if he tried. You'd more than noticed it, it had quickly become a guilty pleasure of yours to relive what he said to you.

So guilty that perhaps once or twice your hand slid down your body at the thought of Matty whispering those same comments in your ear. But that was normal, you assured yourself.

People in relationships thought about another man's curls tickling your face as he kissed your pulse point. Everyone thought of another man's voice whispering filthy comments into your ears. Obviously, everyone thought about the feeling of those same curls between their legs, and how good it would feel to grip and pull at them. To grind against his pretty face.

You shook those thoughts out of your head and looked at Matty again, you saw the fear and desperation on his face. You took a small step forward and he stepped back, copying your actions from before.

“What are you doing,” he said suspiciously, panting from pouring his heart out so quickly.

“Would you just stay still you idiot?” you say, giving him a small smile. He tilted his head questioningly but followed your request, your next step forward brought you chest to chest with him.

Before you could think too hard, you leaned in and pressed your lips together. So gentle it almost wasn't a touch, but it was and it was real. Matty couldn't believe it was fucking real.

Any chance of catching your breath was lost as Matty shot forward catching you in a passionate kiss that almost had you falling backwards if it wasn't for him desperately grabbing at you.

Your hands shot to his hair, scratching the nape of his neck with your nails as you pulled at the unkempt curls that sat there. A groan bubbles out from deep within Matty's chest and you slip your tongue into his mouth as it does, only causing another groan to leave him and his grip to tighten. 

You briefly see a flash of the door opening behind Matty but pay it no mind, too wrapped up in the man in front of you.

Charli and George stood with their heads out the door, peeking out and staring at the pair of you and giggling like schoolchildren. Their laughter gets the better of you and soon you break too, laughing at their infectious and poorly suppressed snickers.

Matty turned around and scolded the pair for staring, “Oi! fuck off you two! Ruining a proper romantic moment here!” the smile on his face made it clear any harness in his voice was nothing but a ruse. 

You giggle and press your face into Matty's neck, breathing him in unabashedly and revelling in the scent of his cologne mixed with cigarettes.

He turns back to you and the pair of you stare into the eyes of the other, watching the love dance over each other's faces.

[angelkissiies]

hcs of poly relationship with abby and ellie please ilysm 🙌🙌

abby anderson x reader x ellie williams headcanons

suggestive content below the cut

╭ thank you anon for the idea, i hope you enjoy !

╰╮the absolute best dance partners, on adult night at the bar they’ll have you in daze from how much they want to be seen with you. twirling you into the others arms until your legs are sore and the entire bar as their eyes on the three of you. 

╰╮abby hates cooking but ellie loves it. So most days ellie will take on the responsibility of cooking and abby will happily oblige to every desire she has as long as it’s not having anything to do with the stove. On that topic, neither of them can bake- but you can. So most days in the kitchen are filled with ellie instructing abby on what she needs and the three of you bumping into each other as you tackle different tasks. Hoping from dinner, to dishes, to baking- but you all somehow make it work (with tons of kisses in between traffic jams)

╰╮clothes troubles? always. between massive loads of laundry to abby’s shirts getting snatched by you and ellie alike- there is always a fuss about clothes. Whilst abby doesn’t mind her girls stealing her shirts, it becomes a tad problematic when the only shirts left in the closet are ones that would look like compression T’s on her. Secretly, though she gives the two of you shit, she loves it. 

╰╮ellie loves taking photos. It’s something she’s very adamant about, every birthday or anniversary, she has the polaroid camera out snapping multiple pictures to frame or stick into an album. You’d become very fond of it after she’d gone through her collection- showing off every sweet photo she had of the three of you. Including more than a couple of joel and jerry hanging out. (they weren’t aware of their picture being taken, but that made it all the better.) 

╰╮you’d never patrol alone again; constantly having the two women at your side to face weather was beyond the wall- not trusting anyone else with the job of protecting you. You could argue and even attempt to sneak out alone, but they somehow always knew and swooped in at the last minute to accompany you. 

╰╮joel and jerry become the father figures you never got to have, taking great pride in the fact that their daughters could manage to snag a prize like you (jerry’s words, quote me on it.) they loved you unconditionally and though the idea at first was a little weird to them, once they saw how much love the three of you carried for one another- they knew it was something meant to be. 

╰╮so many records. ellie prefers jazz and bluegrass (getting most of her preferences from joel), while abby is a complete opposite listening to 90’s rock and college rock (which had grown to be one of her favorite genres). anytime you all went on a run, you’d pick up all the music you could to bring home and listen to together. It had become a ritual. 

╰╮an affinity for children to randomly be running around your shared house. Some days it was yara and lev sitting on the couch chatting about who knows what, others it was half a dozen tiny children running from ellie and dina as they chased them through the house and out into the garden where they’d indulge them with the patch of strawberries that had just started to ripen. It never bothered you, not one bit. 

╰╮abby is the big spoon, ellie is the little spoon, and you are the littlest spoon. like a little conga train, you three melted together like this most nights. other times, it was just a massive pile of limbs and sheets tangled into something joel had a-likened to the rat king. He thought he was very funny for that, giving abby a playful nudge as he recalled her horror story. 

╰╮kissies galore ! ! neither abby or ellie knew how to not kiss you (or each other) so at the worst moments they’ll press a quick kiss to your lips before moving along to whatever it was they were doing. It always warmed your heart but caught whoever you were with off guard (especially if they didn’t know your situation). 

╰╮long, long, long sessions. sex was an all night affair to the three of you, that way you all had a chance to give each other the love you’d set aside for them. luckily for you, abby and ellie learned how to share when it came to you so it was no longer a fight for dominance but a shared experience. give and take. It took them awhile to figure out a way to combine forces but once they did it was game over for you (and your poor legs the next day.) 

╰╮constant talk of starting a family. abby and ellie loved the idea of having little mini versions of themselves running around, not to mention how willing you were to carry babies for them if they weren’t comfortable with it. when the baby fever got too bad, the three of you would take a trip to the school to volunteer your time- helping the girls become more comfortable with children before you all made the jump to actually having your own. 

[toomuchracket]

all those dreams where you're my wife (birthday party!matty x reader)

(hi! a fic inspired by the ending of my most recent blurb for this universe. probably a bit shit, i won't lie, but i thought it was kinda cute. i'm sure you can guess what it entails... enjoy! <3)

it's one of those mornings when you maintain that your boyfriend could have titled his second album based on himself.

you watch matty from the doorway of the master bedroom, his grey-streaked curls splayed across the same bright white pillows his handsome face is half-smushed into. the duvet covers have bunched around his waist, giving you a perfect view of his muscular arms and un-tattooed back, decorated with little crescent moon indents courtesy of your fingernails. suddenly, he moves, and your view changes; you can now clearly see matty's face, softened by slumber, pretty lips open ever so slightly and long dark eyelashes resting almost against his cheekbone. a gentle wave of love washes over you as you watch him sleep, wondering if he's dreaming about you in the same romantic ways you dream about him (he definitely is). he looks so content that you almost don't want to wake him, but the breakfast tray in your arms is growing heavy, so you must.

setting it down gently on the table at matty's side of the bed and perching on the edge of the bed, you lift the little bunch of flowers from the tray in one hand, and softly caress matty's cheek and jaw with the other. "matty, baby, it's time to wake up, c'mon."

languidly, matty presses his face further into your hand, twisting his head to kiss it, before blinking his eyes open. once he's shuffled to sit up against the headboard and adjusted to the sunshine-brightness of the room, he smiles lovingly at you, taking in your (his) mazzy star t-shirt and the flowers you're holding; when he registers the latter, some deeper emotion seems to settle itself in matty's dark eyes, but you can't quite explain what it is. you don't dwell on it - instead, you lean down to kiss your boyfriend's forehead and lay the flowers gently on his bare chest. "bonjour, mon amour. as-tu bien dormi?"

"ok, i understood the first bit," matty replies, his voice gravelly from sleep (quite sexy, if you do say so yourself). "and bonjour to you too, mon petit chou."

"you know you just called me your little cabbage, right?"

"i was trying to call you 'sweetheart'," matty groans, trying to hide his whole face in your palm, presumably to escape mortification. "how do you say that again?"

"chouchou. two of them. you were close! try again, babe."

"nope, my seduction attempt's ruined now," comes the characteristically overdramatic reply, muffled by your hand. "i fucked up my big sexy french-speaking moment, and now you're going to run off with timothee chalamet so he can seduce you with it instead, fucksake."

you snort. "me run off with him? are you sure you're not talking about yourself?"

"i'm not the one who spent a whole afternoon watching videos of him speaking french in interviews non-stop after we watched dune, am i?"

"and i'm not the one who admitted to an interviewer that they had 'interesting feelings' and had a crush on him after call me by your name, am i?"

"but you did, though, didn't you? i bet you did. he's your type, defini-"

"enough about him," you interject, moving your hand over your boyfriend's mouth to prevent hearing his analysis of your type in men, which would inevitably lead to a narcissistic tangent considering matty's, well, the blueprint for it. "do you like the flowers? i picked them for you earlier."

matty looks down at the bouquet of tulips and daisies resting on his chest, eyes softening. "they're beautiful, sweetheart, thank you. what's the occasion?"

he knows full well what the occasion taking place today is, but there's no way that you do.

"just thanking you for bringing me here. and coming to paris with me," you shrug. your head dips bashfully, and matty's heart soars in response; he loves you unconditionally all the time, he really does, but there's just something about seeing you all shy and sweet and blushy that makes his knees weaken. if he was to stand up right now, he knows his legs would simply crumple, and that certainty grows tenfold when you meet his gaze and grin. "wouldn't have gone on this trip without you - everything i wrote in that novel was either for or about you, even before i knew it. so... yeah, they're flowers of gratitude. and love, obvs."

"i love you too," matty smiles, placing the flowers to one side and pulling you into his chest in replacement. "and i'm so - god, i don't even know what to say about being the subject of your writing - honoured? yeah, honoured. this has been the best two weeks of my life, honestly, being here with you."

"i know i said it in paris," you snuggle further into matty, and he kisses your hair. "but i really, really don't want to go home."

"neither do i, sweetheart, but we need to at some point, yeah? mayhem'll be missing us."

"oh, my baby," you sigh wistfully. matty's glad your face is tucked into his chest right now, so you can't see him beaming like an idiot about how much you love his dog. not that you don't know how down bad matty is for you already, but he reckons he should probably try to keep his cool a bit, stay focused, for today of all days. "alright, we can go home. for him only."

matty presses a kiss to your temple, tracing little swirls into your arm. "exactly, babe. we do still have one more night here to focus on, too."

a fucking huge night.

"and on that note, we should probably think about starting to get ready," you peel yourself off your boyfriend - with great reluctance - and stretch, before crawling towards the bottom of the bed (matty makes no attempt to hide his ogling of your bum, mostly bare with the exception of a tiny black thong he's mentally patting himself on the back for buying you) and standing. "will you join me in the shower after you've had your coffee? want you to wash my hair, please."

"of course. will you do mine in return?"

"duh!" you blow matty a kiss. "see you in a bit, lover."

he pretends to catch the kiss and presses it to his heart, which coaxes a giggle and a wink from you before you disappear into the bathroom. holding his quickly-cooling coffee in one hand, periodically taking sips, matty reaches down under his side of the bed to rifle in his carry-on bag, categorising items by texture and bypassing them until he finds the little velvet cube he's looking for.

after downing his cappuccino and setting down the mug, matty does nothing but sit and look at this box for a moment, marvelling at how something so small can hold something significant of one of, if not the biggest commitment he and you could make to each other. but despite the gravitas of the situation, he doesn't feel nervous. here, now, listening to you sing like a virgin as you potter about the ensuite and hissing and swearing at the freezing water temperature when you turn the shower on, there is nothing but love and hope and certainty in his mind; matty wants to marry you, simple as that, and tonight is the perfect night to ask you to do so.

this certainty doesn't diminish at all, either - if anything, matty's decision to propose is only affirmed throughout the day, through everything you do that reminds him how much he loves you. like the way you wordlessly and gently wash his hair for him; your habit of pre-empting what he needs at any given moment simply because you know him so well; the myriad of kisses and compliments and hugs and soft touches you gift him with. the way it takes you twenty minutes to tell a joke because the thought of it made you laugh too hard to talk; how you look at and listen to him intently when he speaks; your incredible insight and way with words turning the most mundane things into the most beautiful, in matty's eyes. speaking of beauty: the way you look right now, sitting opposite him in your new dress; the smile you gave him when he told you in complete earnestness that "you are the most gorgeous person in the known universe. and the unknown, too"; the way your eyes lit up earlier when you recognised the name of the vineyard you're currently sat in, the same name as on the bottles of the wine that you and matty bonded over all those years ago, the same wine that led to you confessing your feelings for each other, and the same wine that you've shared together to celebrate every occasion since then.

the ring has been burning a hole in the front pocket of matty's trousers for hours, desperate to be presented to you and slid onto your recently-manicured (he checked when your nail appointment was before he planned the holiday and proposal, obviously) finger. matty did almost get down on one knee while you were touring the grounds a few hours ago, walking between the rows of grapes, and you made him laugh by unexpectedly calling an obnoxious american man in the same group a "fucking wankstain" under your breath; as soon as he began to shuffle his foot back in kneeling preparation, though, he stopped himself. too eager, healy, she deserves more romance than this.

he could do it right now, and it would work. it's certainly romantic enough - the two of you sat at an outdoor table, illuminated only by moonlight and candlelight respectively, soundtracked by quiet, soft classical piano music, a vintage edition of the wine you love so much being shared between you. it would work, yeah, but it's still not totally right. matty's undeterred, though; he's not sure what's convincing him of this, other than the vague sense of anticipation crackling in the night air, but he knows the perfect moment is nearby. and neither of you are in a rush - the wine is only half-drunk, and another bottle will make its way to the table once that one is gone.

so he'll wait. impatiently, yeah, but he'll do it. the perfect moment will come along, and matty will ask you to be his wife.

you, his wife. perfect, talented, lovely you, currently interrupting his "waiting" reverie by tapping a platform sandaled-foot against his leg and smiling sweetly. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?"

"just thinking about you. well, us." not a lie.

you smile shyly, taking a sip of your wine before leaning back in the chair and resting your glass lightly against your chest. reflected candlelight warms your slightly sleepy eyes, locked intently on matty's own. "what about us are you thinking about?"

"everything. us in the future, us now, us in the past." matty pauses for dramatic effect, knowing exactly how you'll react to his next words. "how good an idea i had when i decided to kiss you at that birthday party."

your reaction is just as matty expected - you raise your eyebrows coolly, pointing your index finger at him in warning. "christ, not this again. you know full well it was me who instigated that."

matty laughs. "nope, as i recall, it was all me; you did nothing that night except try to give yourself a nicotine addiction." his face softens before he speaks again, voice quietening to match. "and as much as i think you're insane for constantly trying to take up smoking, i am so glad you walked outside to bother me for a cig that night. i mean, look at where it led us."

putting your wine down, you gaze at matty so lovingly he thinks he might swoon - this is not helped by your next move, leaning across the table to press your lips to his in a gentle but lingering kiss. after you break apart and matty wrestles back control of his brain from you, he takes both of your hands in his own, rubbing his calloused thumbs across your knuckles and the permanent ink stains on the side of your index finger. "you warm enough, darlin'? hands feel a bit cold."

"a little bit, but the wine's helping," you shrug. "i'll be alright, babe."

the goosebumps spreading up your bare arms in the cool breeze suggest otherwise to matty - he quickly rids himself of his suit jacket, standing to settle it on your shoulders. "there we go."

"matty, i'm al-"

"don't be a martyr, baby, please," matty smiles softly at you as he returns to his seat. he gestures to his dress shirt-clad chest. "see? long sleeves. you need the jacket more than i do."

you sigh, then look sheepish. "yeah, that is better, thank you. i'm also gonna... just to try and warm my neck a bit."

sliding an arm out from under his jacket, matty watches as you take the tortoiseshell claw clip from your hair, shaking the wavy tresses out and leaving them to settle around your beautiful face. then, you take a lazy sip of your wine, before setting the glass down and beaming at him, the picture of comfort and contentment. and something in matty's brain just clicks.

of course. of course it would be you who gave matty the perspective he needed - you do it every day, after all. that simple action of taking your hairclip out, one you must do constantly without thinking too much, if anything, about, and the obvious relaxation that followed... that was the key. the perfect moment has been unlocked.

now is the time for matty to ask you to marry him.

it's as if the crackling anticipation in the air has culminated in a lightning strike, like in back to the future - the right energy is coursing through the atmosphere, and matty knows he has to pull a marty mcfly and seize this moment to change the course of his life for the better, before it slips away.

so, in a quick movement sequence punctuated by awestruck gasps from you, matty practically jumps out of his chair and moves to stand beside yours, pulling the ring box out of his pocket and kneeling; only once he's slowly lifted the lid - ironically at about the same speed the DeLorean doors open - does matty look up at you, tears beginning to pool along his lower lashline already. "so, i think you'll have an idea of what i'm doing down here-"

you giggle, sniffling a bit yourself, and nod.

"-but i have a whole speech prepared, and i'd like you to hear it. ok?" another nod from you, which makes matty smile. "right. here goes - fuck, you're so cute."

not how matty had envisioned his proposal to you beginning, but the way you look right now - eyes wet but sparkling, starlight on sea, cheeks lifting in an elated smile despite the way you've pressed your lips together to keep from exclaiming - is too adorable to go unaddressed.

"ok," matty laughs, then shakes his head and inhales deeply. "i know i'm prone to being dramatic, and exaggerating, but when i say that the seven years i've known you have been the best seven years of my life, i'm doing neither. it's the truth, darlin' - especially these last two years, where i've had the privilege to officially love you and be yours, although i've unofficially been doing those things a lot longer. how could i help that, though? you're so beautiful it breaks my heart, but so kind that it heals immediately, and you're unflinchingly loyal to the people you care about, even when they don't make it easy for you." he pauses, briefly, to bite back the sob building in the back of his throat. "you saw me at my absolute worst and you still stuck around. which i am so grateful for, because i really do think you bring out the best in me. and also in the world in general; i am so envious of the way you can turn the most quotidian things into the most stunning, through your perspective and your unparalleled talent with words. to be given insight into your thoughts every day is the second greatest gift in my life, only beaten by the mind-boggling fact that you, for whatever reason, love me. if you'll allow me to be a little bit self-indulgent, i would love to keep both receiving those gifts and being granted the privilege to love you and be yours for the rest of our lives, officially, and also to spend that same amount of time doing whatever i can to make you happy. i love you, sweetheart, so much. will you marry me?"

you're nodding furiously and beginning an ecstatically teary monologue before he's even finished the question. "yes, yes, an infinite number of times, yes. i love you. i can't wait to be your wife. wife! jesus christ. i'm gonna marry you. oh my god. this is insane. i love you so much. thank you."

after your monologue ends, matty stands and gently takes your left hand, bringing it to his lips before sliding the delicate ring onto its designated finger. you both take a moment to admire it, gemstone sparkling almost as much as your eyes in the romantic lighting, before your eyes lock. matty beams at you. "s'perfect."

"it really is," you say, wiggling your hand in different directions before bringing it up to rest on your fiance's (!!!) face. "and so was that speech. you're incredible, healy. i can't wait to share that last name, and forever, with you."

with that, you pull matty's lips onto yours. the kiss is a little bit damp and salty, because of your shared tears, but it's the best kiss you two have ever had. the red wine lingering on your lips makes it seem like the first all over again, to matty. with a jolt, he realises that it kind of is - your first kiss as a couple betrothed.

as the kiss deepens, you pull matty impossibly closer to you, arching your back against the table - at the sound of a loud thud against it, though, you break apart to see your wine glass on its side, the burgundy contents spreading out over the table. you swear, rifling through your handbag for tissues to clean up the spillage; your fiance, in contrast, continues to hold your waist as he laughs at your clumsiness. "maybe we shouldn't have red wine at our wedding. seems like a dangerous game, what with you in white and all, yeah?"

you faux-glare at matty, before giggling and abandoning the spillage. "yeah," you smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "we should probably just stick to champagne."

"well, there's our next holiday destination sorted. champagne region. you up for that?"

"honestly," you begin, kissing all over matty's stubbly face before ending with a peck on his lips. "i'd go anywhere with you, my husband-to-be. i love you."

"i love you too, my future wife."

[valtsv]

i feel like your ocs would have amazing aita posts

oh definitely. in fact here's a sample for you.

Annie: "AITA for constructing a moral framework based on my belief that I am a character in a cosmic horror setting where my knowledge of the horrors makes me a target and thus I must do whatever it takes to survive (NOTE: I have justified the ruination of the lives of hundreds of people thanks to this worldview, but in my defence most of them had the potential to kill me even if they weren't actively trying to do so)"

also "WIBTA if I were to wander the earth leaving a trail of destruction in my wake until someone puts me out of my misery because my boyfriend died"

Lincoln: "AITA for continuing to pursue my passion of making music even though it compels people to kill each other (btw my new album is now available for pre-order!)"

Samara: "AITA for helming a highly dangerous expedition to the Arctic despite my lack of experience in this regard in order to prove to my father that I'm worthy of inheriting his company"

Nicky: "AITA for becoming a tool of the state in the fight to prevent angels and demons from abusing or destroying humanity for extremely personal revenge quest reasons (I do torture people for information as part of my job)"

Eddie: "AITA for placing myself intentionally in high-risk situations to spite my overbearing sister (regardless of your verdict I will be continuing)"

Logan: "AITA for tying my loyalty to whoever I perceive to be the most capable of protecting me from harm at any given time and doing whatever they ask of me unconditionally"

Fen: "AITA for letting people drown if they don't pay me to ferry them across the marshland which I am a physical manifestation of"

The Radio Host: actually i'm not even gonna try to write one for him he's a genocidal dictator who wants to turn the universe into its personal surveillance state

Dante: "AITA for running away from home to play a game that could kill me because I didn't want to talk to my parents about my mental health and also being a nepo baby I guess"

Maja: "WIBTA if I just lay down and gave up while my team are waiting for me to bring back help and rescue"

Pentifer: "AITA for killing innocent people so I can use their corpses as puppets to get close to my assassination targets if I was abused by my creator until I became hateful and cruel and now have no reason to trust that anyone will treat me differently when I'm widely feared and considered an abomination"

Jocelyn: "AITA for being an opportunistic cult leader who eats people and turns them into cocoons for spiders if I was raised to believe I have no choice in the matter"

Ram: "AITA for dying so badly that it was the catalyst of the problems for everyone around me"

Radi: "AITA for being unable to fall in love with the person who loved the person I was before her personality and memories were forcibly erased and I was born from the ashes of her destruction"

[snowyquokka]

ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪɴᴇ

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

cw: fluff, fluff, and more fluff.

wc: 0.3k

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

In the past seven months I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I struggled, a lot, with my mental health and my overall wellbeing. That was, however, until I met Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin showed me what it was liked to be genuinely and unconditionally loved. Something I’ve never truly felt from a partner.

The first day we met was in late June, on my birthday ironically, and as soon as I saw him I felt an immediate attraction. Not only physically, but emotionally. I know that sounds like an exaggeration but I honestly felt like I’d known him my entire life. I hadn’t really known that he was an idol at the time due to me never discovering K-Pop (and before I spent more than I should’ve on albums).

Hyunjin was the one to spark the conversation oddly enough. We were at our mutual friend’s place for a small gathering. I really didn’t want to go, but something in my gut told me that I’d miss out on something if I stayed home, so I dressed in my usual sweats and a hoodie and headed to the party.

“Happy seven months, love.” Hyunjin smiled as he walked into our shared bedroom with a tray of food in hand. He set it down on the bedside table and leaned down to peck my nose.

Hyunjin took my hands in his and looked into my eyes with a spark in his. I lean in to kiss him deeply and passionately, like my life depended on it. Like he was the very oxygen I needed to breathe.

He pulls away first and leans his forehead on mine. I smile at him widely and close my eyes, savoring his warmth.

“Nothing in the world belongs to me but my love, you’re all mine. All mine.” He spoke softly. A small tear trickled down my cheek.

My baby, here on earth showed me what my heart was worth.

[miraculousmultifan]

Foreigner's God

This fic was written for the @strangerthingswritersguild's Hozier Project where we each chose a song from Hozier's self-titled album and wrote a one-shot inspired by it. I chose Foreigner's God.

I also crossposted this fic on AO3 which you can read here.

Here are the tags (the fic will be under the cut):

Ship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Other Characters Mentioned Additional Tags: Presumed Dead Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Kas!Eddie, Post-Season 4, The Five Stages of Grief, Angst with a Happy Ending, Struggles With Religion, Mentions of Atheism, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Warning: I want to clarify, since I was having some struggles finding the right tag, that there is a lot of discussion about Christianity (namely Steve's relationship with Christianity and faith as well as his own grievances with other Christians and things like "how God chooses who gets a miracle"). My family is Christian, so there's a little bit of my own self-projection with Steve's internal monologue, but this is in no way meant as "Christianity Bashing"

If any of that is something you wouldn't like to read, I suggest you don't continue. This has been your warning! :)

Denial.

Kneeling over the man’s prone form, Steve refuses to believe he is truly dead. They get back to the trailer quickly, so surely there’s still a chance that he could make it. Right?

The Upside Down rattles with earthquakes, but Dustin’s tears are still louder in comparison. The man’s not dead because that would mean he left Dustin to grieve. He wouldn’t do that, so he’s not dead.

Steve dips his head down until his cheek is suspended a thread above his lips, waiting to feel a soft brush of air to prove that he’s still breathing. He wraps his fingers around his wrist like a pathetic excuse for a hand-hold as he tries to find a pulse. He stays like that for much longer than he needs to in the hopes of feeling a puff of breath, a thump of a heartbeat under his skin. 

It will come. It has to. Because he isn’t dead.

Nancy and Robin pull Steve and Dustin away from his body, even as their own bodies shake with sobs. The ground trembles as another earthquake runs rampant through the Upside Down, splitting the ground and spreading cracks through the dirt.

One by one, everyone leaves the Upside Down through the gate in the ceiling of his trailer. Without–

They leave him lying there. They leave him to rot.

Not that he can rot. Because he isn’t dead.

Anger.

Steve used to be a Christian. Back before the Upside Down. Back before he was pushed headfirst into actual hell.

He wasn’t exactly devout. He definitely didn’t follow the “no sex before marriage” rule or anything. But the faith aspect? The belief of a God that created them? An all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God? He believed that. He wanted to believe there was someone with the ability to protect them. To look after them.

Then he had to fight a six-foot, slimy, petal-headed monster to protect Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. The same monster that made Will Byers go missing. The same monster that killed Barb in his pool. Where was God then?

God doesn’t exist. There is no possible way the God that is supposed to love them unconditionally and protect them would create something hell-bent on tearing apart every living being it came across.

Some people might assume the demogorgon, the Upside Down, all of it has to be the work of Satan. Steve knows better. Satan is only supposed to tempt you to sin. His goal is damnation, not death. That’s what he wants. Not vicious, violent creatures that kill innocent people for fun.

So, after Carver comes back from everything alive, surviving the earthquakes and rifts in the ground, and tries to spew bullshit about the kind of people God loves and the kind that he sends to hell, Steve knows he’s wrong. What ever happened to “love thy neighbor?”

While he isn’t a Christian anymore, he knows that Carver is simply twisting the words of the Bible to support his own malicious agenda, venting his grief over Chrissy by directing his rage onto a scapegoat. An easy target that didn’t deserve any of it.

It’s easy for Carver to blame him and call him a Satanist when the jock had a front-row seat to Max floating in the air, her limbs snapping like twigs. For a Christian with no experience with the Upside Down, blaming it on Satan seems like an easy out that requires minimal critical thinking.

But then Carver went from vague comments about sinners to using the Bible to turn Hawkins against him. Calling him a freak, a murderer, a Satanist. They deface his missing posters with devil horns and pentagrams, unable to let his name rest. After everything, they still won’t let him rest.

And Steve is angry. His heart is heavy with the weight, the hate, of Carver’s fucked up beliefs. Why does this jackass get to live when he is dead? Why does Carver get to run his name through the mud when he’s not even around to defend himself?

Carver is so scared of imaginary monsters that he can’t see the real ones that are haunting Hawkins.

He sacrificed himself for a town that hates him. A town that, even now, couldn’t appreciate what he’d done for them. Hawkins never deserved him. Not even the federal government could be bothered to clear his name. It’s much easier for them to hide the truth and paint him as the real villain rather than reveal him as the hero he really was. They’re the cowards. Not him.

Steve hates Hawkins. Steve hates the people who ruined the life of a boy whose biggest “crime” was dressing in edgy clothes, listening to loud music, and playing a nerdy board game. Steve hates the people that made him feel like a coward for trying to protect himself. Steve hates the people who taught him that he would only be redeemable when he was dead.

He hates God for letting it happen.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to kick and bite. Thrash and punch. He wants to shout from the rooftops about how the very man they scorn is the one who saved them all.

He wants to scream the name of a god he no longer believes in. He wants to curse a god that doesn’t exist. The purest expression of his grief, echoing through town.

Bargaining.

Steve would trade the ungrateful citizens of Hawkins if it meant he could have him back.

To the people of Hawkins, he’s just missing. With the lines of open gates, destruction on every corner, overcast sky, and endless ash floating in the air, some of them believe that whatever his agenda was, he had succeeded. They don’t know shit.

They pray to their god for a miracle. For someone to stop the murders. Stop “the devil” from wreaking havoc. As if their god actually had that power. Steve and his friends hadn’t laid down their lives for everyone to shout “miracle!” If they managed to defeat Vecna, Steve didn’t want God getting all the credit for it.

Miracles are bullshit anyway. Why should a god give miracles so sparsely? Why do some people get miracles and others don’t? God shouldn’t play favorites. How does he decide who deserves a miracle? 

Why hadn’t a true hero fit that criteria?

What “lesson” does God teach when he lets innocent children die without stepping in? What “lesson” does he teach his believers when he lets them invoke his name like a waiver as they hurt an innocent boy?

Sometimes Steve thinks that it should have been him instead. It was his fourth year dealing with the Upside Down; his winning streak had run its course. It was about time anyway. It should have been him.

Steve can’t fathom trading anyone else for him. It would either be the shitheads of Hawkins or Steve. Maybe the assholes in Hawkins Lab who released the Upside Down on all of them in the first place. Maybe the fucking feds that used him as a scapegoat instead of owning up to their mistake.

Depression.

Alone in his house, Steve sits on his bed in his room and stares down at the piece of clothing in his lap. He isn’t crying, but it’s a near thing.

Dustin hasn’t called in days, torn up by grief. Mike refuses to look at him, using him as an easy target to place his blame. Lucas is too busy sitting at Max’s bedside to be betrayed by Steve’s failure. Sometimes Erica comes over to sit on the couch with him and show him her dice or talk about My Little Pony, but they never talk about him.

Robin knows something is wrong, of course. They know each other so intrinsically that they don't have to speak to share their thoughts and feelings.

The thing is… Steve doesn’t want to talk about it. If he tried to open up, he’d have to find a way to pry the man’s name from his throat. Robin supports him like always, but he can tell that she’s starting to worry even more than usual.

He wants to cry. He wants to sit there and let himself cry, but he can’t. His eyes are deceptively dry, giving off the impression that he isn’t grieving even when he feels it every day.

Does he even have the right to grieve? Steve barely knew the guy! They’d only spent a week together and he had the audacity to grieve at the same level as someone like Dustin? Steve was being irrational.

Robin and Nancy could have handled Vecna, no problem. Steve never should have assumed being the distraction would be easy. That the distraction team would just hop back through the gate as soon as they played their part. Not when he knew how vicious and determined those bats could be.

The denim vest feels like it’s burning a hole through Steve’s legs. It’s selfish for him to keep it. Surely Wayne needs it more. 

But the two of them had sort of become friends, hadn’t they? They had joked together. They bonded over Dustin’s overconfident attitude. They…

Well, let’s just say Steve had to go through a bit of a bi-crisis in the midst of his mourning.

If Steve could only talk to Robin about this mass of grief, guilt, and what-ifs in his chest—if he could finally say his name—maybe he could finally break down into pieces. Maybe his numb exterior could finally reflect his shattered heart. 

Acceptance.

He’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s never coming back.

He was an ever-present pressure in Steve’s life for one short week before he vanished forever. And Steve can accept that.

They won’t have another opportunity to tease Dustin together. They won’t sit pressed on a couch together, their thighs brushing. He won’t lean too close into Steve’s space and bump their shoulders together. They won’t get the chance to say the things they left unsaid.

And now Steve will never know.

But he can accept that. He can because he has to.  Because they held his funeral. 

You don’t hold funerals for people who aren’t dead. So Steve just has to accept it. The sooner he can, the sooner he can move on.

…

Revival?

Something is in his house.

That’s the first thing Steve registers when he steps up to the front door. The wood by the handle is scratched up with claw marks, and the metal lock is on the ground, pulled out of the door and rendering Steve’s house key obsolete.

Instead of entering the threshold unprotected, Steve scrambles back to his car to grab the nail bat from his trunk. He considers getting his walkie out to ask for help but decides to scope out the situation first. Cautiously, he makes his way through the entryway leaving the door open behind him in case he needs to make a hasty escape.

He expects the house to be destroyed; valuables taken, glass shattered, and dirt smeared all over the linoleum tiles. There’s definitely mud tracked into the house, but the shape of the footprints is like nothing Steve has ever seen. From a distance, they might look like regular feet, but upon closer inspection, Steve notices that the toes seem elongated, the length of the feet bigger than any normal human’s.

Tentatively, Steve follows the footsteps with his bat tightly gripped in his fist. They lead up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom where the door is hanging slightly ajar.

Something is in Steve’s room.

It has long, leathery wings; ragged and tangled hair; sharp, pointed claws; and a thrashing, demonic tail. It moves around the room with shameless wonder, trilling to itself as it sniffs at the comforter on Steve’s bed, the clothes in his closet, and the denim vest on his desk.

The creature stops at the desk, pausing to smell the vest thoroughly, unconsciously giving Steve a view of its side profile. Strange… The monster bears a striking resemblance to–

“Eddie?” Steve breathed, his grip on his bat loosening as his eyes finally blurred with unshed tears. “Is that you?”

The monster whips around to face Steve, its lips pulled up into a snarl as its dark, human-like eyes stare sharp and steady, directly into the emptiest parts of his heart. Without a warning, the creature crowds into Steve’s space and starts sniffing him within an inch of his life. It runs its strangely human-like nose along the crook of Steve’s bared neck while its clawed hands hold Steve’s arms by his sides firmly.

Steve drops the bat, frozen in place. Now that it’s so close, Steve can see the similarities to Eddie in the monster’s face. Those same expressive Bambi eyes. The strong line of his nose. Those same plush-looking lips pulled back to reveal monstrous fangs. Even with the changes, there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that the creature before him is Eddie.

Then, when Eddie has apparently finished sniffing, he snuffles in Steve’s face, satisfied, and picks him up like he’s made of feathers. With seemingly minimal effort, he places Steve in the center of his bed and fluffs the blankets up around him, swiping his frighteningly long, black tongue up Steve’s cheek in a sopping wet lick.

Steve blushes, unsure how he should be reacting. “Eddie?” he murmurs softly once more, hoping to draw Eddie’s attention to the words leaving his lips.

Eddie chirps, climbing into the bed to join Steve and curling up at his knees. His wings flap, sending a burst of air across Steve’s face before they settle, and he faces Steve with his eyes relaxed and expression open.

With a nervous smile, still not sure what to do with his hands, Steve says, “Do you… recognize me?”

Another chirp and Eddie presses his forehead into Steve’s outstretched palms. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, letting out a brief sigh of relief. “Can you speak?”

Eddie whimpers, hanging his head low. The sound is broken, raspy as though his vocal cords are struggling to produce the deep sound. Steve feels like he’s losing him all over again.

Mustering all the tender charm he can manage, Steve slowly reaches out to loosely hold one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie picks up his head to watch him, making no move to stop the motion, the only indication of his interest being the little flick of the end of his tail back and forth.

As gently as he can, Steve rubs his thumb against the inside of Eddie’s wrist and softly presses a kiss to his palm. “I’m glad you found me,” he murmurs, hoping that Eddie will understand the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re back.”

There’s no mutual language between the two of them for Steve to express it, and he knows he would only break if he tried to verbally convey it, but his entire being feels like it’s lit up with the broken love he holds in his cracked and shattered heart. Even if he said the words out loud, Eddie wouldn’t be able to respond in kind. 

Just like everyone else, leaving Steve wanting for something no one can give him. 

Steve lays back in his bed to stare up at the ceiling. All his grief is no longer warranted now that Eddie’s back, but despite that, he still feels as though he’s lost something truly important. 

His cheeks are still damp from the brief tears he shed at Eddie’s return, but when he goes to wipe them away, Eddie beats him to it. He raises himself up until he’s propped up on top of Steve and leans down to lick the tears away. It’s a little gross, but Steve appreciates it anyway.

With that task complete, Eddie flops down until his entire body weight is pressing down on Steve, laying on top of him like it’s a normal thing for friends to do. He nuzzles at the crook of Steve's neck and chuffs.

Steve chuckles nervously, a deep flush rising to his cheeks. “You alright there, Eds?” he manages to squeak out.

Instead of moving his head to look up at Steve, Eddie presses his face harder into Steve’s neck as a rumbling sound vibrates from the base of his throat. It sounds strangely like a purr.

Then, to Steve's immense surprise, Eddie raises his head and looks Steve straight in the eye. His eyebrows furrow in intense concentration as he opens his mouth. At first, only a low growl comes out before it slowly morphs as Eddie’s lips form around the word “…S-Steevie.”

Steve blushes a pretty pink. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Eddie snorts, though it reminds Steve more of a dragon huffing smoke from its nose than a laugh. He presses their foreheads together gently and Steve goes still beneath him. “Missed you,” Eddie grits out as though those two words took all of his effort. Then his face splits into a wide grin and he leans down to lick at the tip of Steve’s nose, reminiscent of an excitable puppy.

Heat blooms in Steve’s chest, and he struggles to hold back the warmth that wants to pour out of him from his fingertips. So, instead, he reaches his hand up to brush Eddie’s hair back from his forehead and smiles. “I missed you too,” he murmurs in response, trying to put all of his love into those four words.

Eventually, they’ll work on re-introducing Eddie to everyone else and giving him some speech therapy to help with his vocal cords, but for now, Steve is content to just lay there. He has no reason to grieve anymore. Not when he has Eddie back.