#I write eight pages in my sleep

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Watching Harmony Forest instead of writing my last two college essays…but it’s okay because looking at Intak will make me motivated to drink water finish my finals assignments so I can look at Intak even MORE and with less stress!!!

But seriously you want me to write eight pages on communication and character when I could instead watch brunette Intak in a cap win at dodgeball?? One of those is clearly the better option

[moonysbookshelves]

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets

The Cadence of Part-Time Poets by @motswolo

Have been working on this 10 volume set for the past few months now, and they are finally complete. My Magnum Opus. I have peaked and probably depleted all of my brain power.

Thank you to @motswolo for writing such a beautiful story. My brain chemistry has been favourably altered. Will forever flinch when I hear Queen, The Beatles or Bob Dylan. Love to you from western Canada (west coast best coast lets gooooo).

I also posted a TikTok Reel of these since posts here are limited and I love the insides as much as the covers, so if you wanna see between the pages, here’s that.

Also thank you @avisbindery for letting me scream and cry in your DMs while I read the fic. May you get some uninterrupted sleep now LOLLL.

Going to write a whole essay below about the ideas and details because uhhh I wanna yap bit!

So for starters, I wanted to make these binds look like magazines because of the epilogue where (spoiler) Tonya sees Remus in a copy of New Musical Express. But of course this fic is long, so I was like, what if I do multiple volumes? This very quickly spiralled into me painstakingly (finding publication-accurate fonts almost sent me to an early grave) recreating 10 different music-focused magazines from the 70s and 80s from scratch (thank you to Photoshop, Affinity, Procreate and Canva). Each volume features a unique cover, along with stylized typesets to match that display the songs for each chapter but in different designs. And then I went a little crazy and made a 45 sleeve and a cassette too, to really set the scene when I took the photos lol

While the covers display the dates pertaining to the contents of that particular volume (Sept 1975 for volume one, for example) I was thinking about what the magazines would say if they were really published when Marauders are traipsing about being spectacular and famous in the future. I sprinkled in details from the fic itself and fanon-ed it a bit, but that was the general inspiration :-) Tried to keep the photos used either faceless/obscured, or to use the fancasts on Mots’ Cadence master post. I also tried to use period-accurate photos but didn’t always succeed, so settled for photos of 4 member bands where I had to :”) But the general intent with the facelessness was that they could be implied to be Marauders. If you squint? lol. Just pretend. Pls.

Volume One: Based upon The Record Song Book. This magazine went on to inspire the typesets, since it publishes lyrics and such. The cover images are of Spacey Jane and David Thewlis.

Volume Two: Based on ZigZag, specifically the issue from July 1978 featuring Siouxie and the Banshees just because I thought it looked sick as fuck. I re-drew the abstract shapes and such in procreate. The cover images are The Clash and a young Gary Oldman. Lord he was foiiine.

Volume Three: Based on Trouser Press, November 1980. The cover images are a young Metallica, and my personal fav fan cast for James, Reiky De Valk. The film negatives are from a Bruce Springsteen tour, 1976.

Volume Four: Based on Gay Times (November 1984), a queer magazine from the UK because this volume contains Wolfstars first kiss hehe. Also hence Somebody To Love plastered all over the covers. The Front cover is Inhaler. The “4A” on this one is of course the boys’ dorm number, but I made the A the lambda symbol as this was a pride symbol in the 70s after Stonewall.

Volume Five: Based on Melody Maker. Front image is Alex Turner. All of the text on this one is pulled directly from the fic. The scene where they all drop acid and James jumps off the roof Almost Famous style had me hootin’ and hollerin’… until Tomny showed up hahaha :”)

Volume Six: Based on IT (International Times, Aug 1971). Front image for this one is Joy Division, and the back features Jane Asher for Lily

Volume Seven: Based on Record Mirror, June 1976. Front image is John Taylor of Duran Duran. Yum.

Volume Eight: Based on Rolling Stone. More vibes than anything for this one, but the quote still makes me laugh.  Front image is of Matt Hitt. Can you tell I photoshopped a cell phone out of this one? IDK. This photo just screamed ‘Remus’ to me so I had to use it. The back image is an old cigarette ad, but the photo is taken in Shepherd’s Bush.

Volume Nine: Based on Fusion magazine. Front image for this one is once again Inhaler. Oops. Back cover is our gals. Images are Jodie Foster as Cherry, Brenda Sykes as Mary, and Goldie Hawn as Lottie.

Volume Ten: Based on New Musical Express. You know why :”) These are all victims of fanon, but this one especially. I wanted it to be NME instead of the re-invented logos I’d been doing for all the rest, as I wanted it to look like the magazine the Sister gives to Tonya. I referred to an issue of NME from October 1979 for this and layered in fic references where it made sense to. The cover image for this one is (I think) Cigarettes After Sex. This issue also contains all of the B-Side chapters, and the Marauders song lyrics too just for fun :)

Slasher Chick: This is just my take on what Sybill’s zine could’ve looked like. Prob way off but I just wanted to have fun with this one since I had no cover to reference lol. The zine contains her little write-up and the interview, lifted straight from the fic :")

ok yap sesh over byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee lmfaooooo

[really-fanny-longbottom]

in sickness & in silence

azriel x reader | because actions speak louder than words. words: 2.9k a/n: one year ago i created this page and never did i thought i would gain the corage to write and post my own fanfics, how crazy is that? (anyways, i'm back 😊)

masterlist

it was currently eight o'clock on a cold, white winter morning.

some inhabitants were still sleeping in their warm beds that protected them from the cold that reigned in velaris at that time, while others were already on the streets, preparing for another day of work.

azriel was one of them, one of those who was already walking through the streets, with a mission in hand.

but this mission was not like the others, in which his brother gave him instructions to travel somewhere in order to have to do something that would taint his hands or mind.

no, this mission was not guided by orders but by his heart.

the male's steps remained firm and fast as he walked towards the white house with the blue door whose porch was decorated more with flowers than with the stone of the stairs. 

the house that one day he wanted to walk towards, not to visit but to stay. 

the house that, for some reason, made his mind calm and body relax.

maybe not because of the house itself but because of the young female who lived there, the same one with green eyes and dark brown hair. 

the same one whose perfume reminded him of a peaceful spring morning, whose presence lit up a room as if she were the sun, whose shampoo reminded him of the flowers in the gardens, whose hands made the best chocolate chip cookies and whose voice was so sweet it seemed to have been made of honey. 

the same young female who burst into his life and brought with her all the colors of the world. 

azriel began to climb the hill that would lead him to his destination. how many times had he passed that hill? five? ten? thirty? a hundred? 

and still, he had never passed the front door of that white house with the blue door. 

azriel doesn't know when he lost his heart to her, but he didn't want it back anymore. what he wanted to know was why she hadn't come to the house of wind in three days.

three days and no warning—no letter, no sign, nothing.

azriel had even gone to the river house to talk to rhysand, who was busy exploring the new concept of fatherhood.

the conversation lasted only two minutes—long enough for the high lord to say that he hadn't seen you, that he didn't know anything about you, and to say that you should probably be at your house.

azriel didn't waste any time and almost immediately headed to your house.

now standing on the sidewalk in front of the said house, the male looked it up and down before opening the small wooden gate, also blue, and starting to climb the steps.

with each step he climbed, his heart skipped a beat, and another, and another.

he couldn't deny that he was frustrated for not having heard from you for three days but where there was room for frustration, there was also room for worry and fear.

and those feelings spoke louder than the previous one.

azriel stopped on the second to last step before knocking on the wooden door and taking two steps back.

the male waited, and waited until the green curtain of the front window moved to the side and. . .there you were.

something calmed the male's heart just by seeing you and he couldn't help the somersault his heart did when you smiled softly at him before disappearing into the house to come to the door, at least he hoped so.

the male took another step back, precisely a second before you opened the door just enough to peek out.

your eyes met his and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you before you broke the silence. 

“azriel? what are you-?”

“it's been three days.” azriel simply replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you were alright and that was good, but he still didn't know why you just disappeared.

there was a hint of confusion in your eyes. whatever he was trying to say, you clearly didn't understand. 

“ahm, i. . .i don't understand.” you tilted your head slightly to the side, something you usually do subconsciously but that always provokes something in him. 

the male took a deep breath, his fists clenched at his sides with his knuckles turning white. 

“you haven't been to the house of wind for three days. you just disappeared without saying anything and that's not okay. you can't-” 

“azriel-” you opened your mouth to explain but was quickly interrupted.

“don't,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for arguing “you can't just disappear like that. if you're mad at me, then just say it. say it, scream it, hit it, anything.”  

he climbed two steps of the stone stairs, being at your eye level now, “do whatever you want but not this. don't disappear on me without a word.” 

you stared into his hazel eyes for a moment—a moment of silence and contemplation.

his reaction took you by surprise, you had never seen him react like that about anyone—not even his brothers. 

you couldn't ignore the confusion you felt from his words but you could feel his worry and fear. 

you waited a few more seconds until you were sure that the male in front of you was calmer and there were no signs of him interrupting you again.

“azriel,” you said calmly with a small hint of a smile in the corners of your lips “i'm not mad at you or avoiding you.” 

the male, stubborn as always, crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. his way of saying he was waiting for an explanation and that he wasn't leaving without one.

you let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle and shook your head.

this male was unbelievable.

“i'm sick,” you said, looking at him and seeing his broody expression falter a little.

“. . .what?” he asked quietly.

his answer made you smile and you couldn't help the laugh that followed or the coughing fit as a result of the laugh.

“i caught the flu a few days ago but i sent a letter to rhys to inform him.” you explained.

azriel's eyebrows furrowed in the middle of his forehead. this information was unknown to him—why hadn't rhys told him when he went to his house to ask for you? 

“you're sick?”

you opened the door and stepped forward to reveal your appearance.

your hair was tied up in a nearly undone braid, you were wearing white polar pajamas with brown teddy bears and a red blanket was over your shoulders. 

there were dark circles under your eyes and your nose was slightly red. 

his eyes softened and the male found himself fighting a smile that wanted to form on his lips.

his worry vanished and was immediately replaced by a sense of protection and caring.

even though you were sick, you looked beautiful and especially adorable in your teddy bear pajamas. 

azriel couldn't hold it in and let out a chuckle, “you look adorable in those pajamas.”

a blush began to form on your cheeks, leaving you slightly flushed but you were quick enough to blame the cold for it. 

as you cleared your throat, you wrapped the blanket tighter around you, your only barrier against the cold of the street “you can let rhys know that i'm better but it will take me a few more days to return to work.” 

azriel climbed the last steps, his figure now towering over you.

you tilted your head up to meet his eyes—the ones you would often get lost.

the male placed a hand on your cheek, his scars caressing your soft skin, making your heart skip a beat at the gesture as those hazel eyes studied you.

“i don't care about your work. i care about you," he said as his thumb caressed your cheek in a slow rhythm, “i'm not leaving until you get better.” 

butterflies formed in your stomach, and your skin was on fire. suddenly, you were very aware of all the sensations that were invading you and the cold was no longer one of them. 

“i. . .i’m already feeling better-” you tried to say before he interrupted you—again.

“that's not what i meant and you know it.” he looked above your head and into your hallway before his gaze returned to your face “can i come in?” he asked.

“please say yes” his begged in his mind.

the caress of his thumb made you wake up from the trance you were in and very quietly, you replied “the flu is contagious, azriel. i don't want you to-”

your sentence was interrupted—once again—by azriel's hand grabbing the back of your neck and gently pulling you forward until your body was flushed against his.

his other hand found the curve of your waist, placing it there with an open palm. 

azriel closed the distance, placing his lips on yours.

your cheeks heated up and a tingling sensation ran up your spine, making your skin even hotter. 

your blanket fell to the floor, the tips of your feet lifted slightly and your hands found a place on his arms.

your mouths moved in sync as azriel deepened the kiss, one that was gentle and tender.

the kiss lasted a few seconds, sending a silent message that azriel had no intention of leaving your side anytime soon. 

the male finished with a small peck to yours lips before pulling away, his hand on your waist gave you a soft squeeze while his other hand came to tilt your chin. 

his hazel eyes locked on your greens and with a smirk curving his lips, he asked quietly, like you were the only two people in the world “i'm afraid i'm infected now. will you let me in and take care of you or. . .” his eyes fell on your lips “do i have to kiss you again?” 

your mouth was slightly open as you studied his features, your mind still trying to process what had just happened but you managed to nod. 

azriel chuckled, his fingers letting go of your chin to trace your jawline.

“to which one of my questions is that nod for?”

you opened your mouth to speak but could only manage incoherent words, before you lowered your head to hide your blush again and step aside, inviting him silently to come in.

azriel chuckled, his heart swelling with affection for you. he leaned down to pick up your blanket and wrapped it around your form, his gesture both protective and maybe a little possessive “here you go, love.”

when he stepped in, he guided you inside as well, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

he made sure to close the door quietly behind you, shutting out the world and making it just the two of you for the moment, taking this moment to calm his jumping heart from what he just did.

the male turned back to you and watched as you walked inside, his gaze lingering on you as you settled on the couch. 

his heart clenched at the sight of you in your teddy bear pajamas, this was the first time in all the years he had known you that he had seen you in such a vulnerable state. 

he looked around, inspecting your home. small but comfortable, just like you.

azriel walked over to the couch, gently grabbing your legs and helping you lay down. 

he took a brown blanket that was on the back of your reading chair and covered you with it,  tucking the blanket around you and making sure you're warm and comfortable.

he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, “rest and let me take care of you. i'm going to make you some soup, okay?” 

“okay, thank you.” 

azriel smiled and walked towards the kitchen and started to gather everything he needed. 

as he started preparing your soup, he would occasionally look towards you, making sure you were alright.

his eyes softened at the sight of you sick, you looked so small and defenseless on the couch, making his heart clench.

he had to fight against the urge to pull you in his arms and lay with you, tried to tell himself that this was all because of you being sick and that he was just worried.

but deep down, he knew that wasn't true. seeing you like this triggered something within him. 

suddenly, realization dawned on him, causing him to roll his eyes as he realized why rhys had lied to him about your situation.

not even after he was married and had a child, his brother would stop meddling in his love life. 

bastard. 

as if his brother could sense it, azriel could swear he heard a laugh in his mind. 

ignoring it, he focused on the task at hand, and made sure to make your favorite soup.

twenty minutes later, azriel picked up the bowl with a slice of bread on the side and walked towards the couch.

he maneuvered the bowl in one hand while using his other to lift your legs and placing them on his lap as he sat down.

you sat up a little straighter, ready to pick up the bowl but the scene in front of you stopped you. 

you watched as azriel gently blew on the spoon to cool the soup before holding the spoon out to you. 

your eyes traveled between his face and the spoon. you raised an eyebrow as if to say 'seriously?' 

“what? i don't want you to get your hands cold.” azriel said with a small smile, bringing the spoon closer to your mouth. 

you shook your head and smiled before giving in, you couldn't lie that it felt nice to have someone to take care of you.

you tucked your hands underneath the blanket again and opened your mouth.

“mmm, it's delicious.”you said as you enjoyed the tomato soup accompanied by a slice of bread, just the way you like it. 

“how did you know i like tomato soup? and that i always eat it with a slice of bread?” you asked before opening your mouth for another spoonful.

“i pay attention,” azriel answered, already grabbing another spoonful.

“right. mr spymaster always paying attention to the little details.” you joked before noticing the seriousness in his face.

“that too, but i meant i pay attention to you.” he said, making your throat dry.

you cleared your throat before pointing at the small coffee table in the center of your living room “water, please.” 

azriel chuckled but did as you asked. 

after helping you with the water and the rest of your soup, azriel helped you with your medicine before helping you laid down on the couch again and tucking the blankets around you.

he did the dishes, and started to prepare some tea for later.

he added more firewood to the fireplace before his eyes landed on you again.

finally, he couldn't help himself any longer and gave the green light to his thoughts.

he took off his coat and placed it on the back of the chair before taking off his boots and placing them next to the door where your shoes were also.

the difference between his boots and your sandals didn't go unnoticed by him, drawing a smile from him. 

azriel, then, moved towards the couch, hovering over you. 

you looked up at him, a slight pout on your lips “i can't seem to get comfortable.” 

azriel chuckled and reached for the blankets “i think i can help with that.” 

he moved the blankets off before helping you to sit and laid himself down on the couch, his back against the fabric of it.

he then pulled you forward without warning, making you lay on top of him.

he reached for your red blanket, leaving the other one on the floor, covering you both with it. 

the moment your body collided with his, you immediately relaxed. 

you nuzzled your face against his chest a few times, before closing your eyes and letting out a sigh.

one of his hands went to the back of your head while he leaned slightly down to kiss your forehead. 

after you were both settled, his hands fell to your back, one of them going under your pajama shirt and rubbing it softly. 

“rest, i'm here and i’m not going anywhere.” he said softly, his lips falling to your hair. 

with your eyes closed you smiled, exhaustion taking over your body.

moments before your mind was off, you managed to let out such simple but so meaningful words “i love you, az.” 

azriel's heart stopped for a second before it started beating again.

he had loved you since the moment rhys had ordered him to travel to illyria when one of the camp lord's sent a letter about how a young female was wreaking havoc in his camp because they refused to train her.

every day since then, he waited and prayed for you to feel the same.

and, now, here it was, what he most wanted in this world.

he always thought he would be the first to give in and confess his feelings to you but apparently you had anticipated him.

“i love you more,” he whispered softly while wrapping his wings around the two of you, but you were already asleep. 

but that was okay.

he would tell you again tomorrow and every single day after that.

after all, he wasn't going anywhere.

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjnalvarez @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[httpknjoon]

satellite | jjk

plot | Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

w.c | 3K

genre | fluff, slight angst, fwb (but nothing 18+ happened)

pairing | jungkook x medstudent!reader

note | written from my own swamp of academic-related activities

main masterlist | playlist

JK

u up?

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

JK

:(

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

JK

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

JK

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

JK

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone.  Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

JK

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[kunareads]

bed chem interlude

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

in which you write the song

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 0.8k

some surprise context before the last chapter (friday). i love them so bad!!!!!

content: FLUFF and some implied smut (nothing explicit)

18+ please <3

your body still hums from last night. a dull ache between your thighs, the lingering warmth of satoru's hands. reminders of the way he touched you like you were his, how he made you tremble.

you shift under the weight of it, stretched across the bed in your soft pajamas. your notebook rests in your lap, a pen twisting between your fingers, and it feels like the page is filling itself.

i was in a sheer dress the day that we met

your lips part, smiling faintly as you remember the way he looked at you that night, the undeniable electricity of it. the way you both wanted to take it further but let the anticipation marinate for an entire week instead.

it's almost embarrassing how easily the words come. but then you think about him—the smirk, the way he said your name—and you know you're not changing a thing.

+++

it's not even 1am before satoru's making up an excuse to leave the premiere. something about an early call time, a meeting, jet lag—whatever gets him out the door fastest.

the second he's free, he's already texting you.

satoru [12:48AM]: meet me in the hallway?

and before you know it, he's pulling you into the dimly lit corridor, grinning like he's just pulled off a heist.

"god, i missed you," he murmurs against your jaw, leading you toward the elevator. his hand settles low on your back, fingers pressing into silk, teasing.

your eyes flick up to him, unimpressed. "it's been, what, four days?"

"seventy-eight hours." his lips curve. "not that i'm counting."

the second the hotel room door clicks shut, he's on you. fabric slides away like an afterthought, and then you're breathless against the door.

he takes his time with you, slow, indulgent, like he wants to memorize every reaction, every sound. you don't say it, but he feels it—the way your body melts into his, the way you let him hold you like this once you're done.

how you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

you hum softly against his shoulder, half-awake, half-lost in thought.

+++

your phone buzzes next to your pillow, and you know it's satoru before you even check. you fumble to answer, voice thick with sleep when you mumble, "hello?"

there's a pause, and then—"shit, did i wake you?"

you smile. he sounds awake. you exhale a sigh, curling deeper into your blankets. "what time is it?"

"a little late for me," he says, "a lot late for you,"

you roll onto your back, blinking at the ceiling. "then why are you calling?"

"’cause i'm not in your timezone," he says, a little too smooth, a little too fond, "but i wanna be."

you roll your eyes with a force only he can bring out of you. "you wanna be in my timezone?" you repeat. "that's the line you're going with?"

"mm, i think you liked it."

said you're not in my timezone, but you wanna be

there's a silence as you make that mental note—not awkward, just easy. the kind of quiet that settles warm in your chest, like an arm slung around your waist.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs eventually.

you hum, eyelids heavy. "stay on the phone."

and he does, until you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

+++

it's late. the kind of late where the whole world is asleep except for the two of you. the tv hums low in the background, playing some show neither of you is really watching.

satoru shifts, pressing in closer, breath warm against your shoulder. his fingers trace small, tentative circles against your hip. you can feel the cheesy pickup line about to leave his lips. but he surprises you.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

he's watching you, half-lidded, loose, but not joking.

you study him, waiting to see if he'll crack a smile, try to make you laugh. but he doesn't. he just looks at you softly, a little hopeful.

how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means, and i'm obsessed

it's an easy answer. obvious, even. "yeah. okay."

he exhales, like he was holding his breath, and tugs you closer, nuzzling into you. you let him, let yourself sink into his warmth.

"yeah?" his voice is softer now, like he can't quite believe it.

"yeah," you murmur, playing absentmindedly with his hair.

he stays quiet for a moment, then breathes out something small, something you almost don't catch—"thank you," like you handed him something fragile.

it tugs at your chest, makes you tilt your chin and press a kiss to the top of his head. "you're cute."

he only hums, his hold on you tightening, his breath evening out, like he could fall asleep just like this.

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[parfaitblogs]

you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid. 

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him. 

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all. 

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general. 

And this wasn't him. 

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips. 

It was a habit he had developed. 

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently. 

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours. 

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not. 

You were too scared to ask. 

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet. 

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen. 

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard. 

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested. 

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway. 

He didn't even care. 

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid. 

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to. 

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now. 

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness. 

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers. 

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants. 

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature. 

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two. 

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off. 

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain. 

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him. 

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate. 

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending. 

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically. 

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again. 

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet. 

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping. 

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching. 

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation. 

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[fashionteahouse]

ultimate master list vol. 3

started: 10/12/2024

updated: 04/30/2025

-hey beautiful people this is the new master list. i hit the 100 post link limit again haha. i will still put links of •master list vol 1 • and •master list vol 2 • so you can still enjoy the stories on there! I have decided to make this master list to make my page more easier to navigate and enjoy :) i take requests so feel free to drop whatever you want because i write everyday ! the wolfpack is my preference but i will write for any other twilight characters as well :> however, i won’t write about jacob black x renesmee and quil x claire xoxo (plagiarism of my writing is NOT allowed)

Twilight saga

moodboards

esme cullen

emmett cullen

aro volturi

wolfpack imagines

paul lahote

4Æ

death of me

it’s nice to have a friend pt 2

violence

the knowing

sticky part 2

tennis court

or what

the knowing part 2

ponyboy

hold that heat

secret

swept away

revolving door

hope is a dangerous thing for a girl like me

how bad do you want me

secret part 2

jacob black

on earth

embry call

cherry

i was never there

losing is the new winning

only child

sam uley

sour candy part 3

sour candy part 4

seth clearwater

911

save your tears

jared cameron

nothing yet !

leah clearwater

mirrored heart

i wouldn’t ask you

yeah i said it

sirens

runaway with me

lovedrug

quil ateara

nsfw abc hcs

vampire imagines

edward cullen

out of your league alternative version

out of your league alternative version part two

out of your league alternative version part three

out of your league alternative version

out of your league alternative version

carisle cullen

abracadabra

vampire blurbs

cullen x sensitive reader hcs

cullen x reader who breaks up with them over text without reasoning

cullen x reader valentine’s day hcs

cullen x reader breakup prank hcs

yandre cullen x reader hcs

wolfpack smut

paul lahote

g.u.y

crushed velvet

pink diamond

embry call

nsfw alphabet hcs

lipgloss

lipgloss part two

seth clearwater

blood and butter

poly paul and jared x reader

pyramids

paul and embry x reader x rachel

greedy

wolfpack series

full updated out of your league master list

out of your league part twenty three

out of your league part twenty four

out of your league part twenty five

out of your league part twenty six

out of your league part twenty seven

out of your league part twenty eight

out of your league part twenty nine

out of your league alternate version of part twenty twenty nine

out of your league part thirty

out of your league part thirty one

wolfpack blurbs

blood on white satin

delete forever

sleeping on the floor

doves in the wind

can i call you tonight

vampire series

edward cullen

i wonder

i wonder part two

i wonder part three

i wonder part four

i wonder part five

i wonder part six

i wonder part seven

i wonder part eight

i wonder part nine

i wonder part ten

i wonder part eleven

i wonder part twelve

[zkaus]

At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

[p-seduonym]

The Little Light That Got Lost (Part Nine)

A/N: Yall I was so wrapped up in the two updates yesterday that I forgot I had homework. Was up for hours finishing it. Anyway, here's more of my bad life decisions. I should be reading Shakespeare right now but I'd rather make this.

Taglist: @cheust, @i-simp-for-women, @goodsoup19, @143637-hrrm, @delias-stuff, @12nitled, @cutenessbun, @rinkydinkythinky, @trashlanternfish360, @bunbunbread, @daddysfangirls-dc, @justannie18, @moon0goddess

Part One

Part Two

Part 2.5

Interlude

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Gotham City Municipal Archives — Document No. 2287-A Collection: Morwen Estate Holdings Recovered: October 16, 1936 – from subfloor storage, Morwen Parish House (formerly Wayne Estate) Condition: Bound parchment folio, twine binding. Ink faded. Final pages partially destroyed by moisture.

Document Title: "Untitled Journal (Author Unknown, presumed female servant of Wayne Household, ca. 1640s–1660s)"

Archival Notes:

Entries contain frequent references to infant care, religious guilt, dreams, and sightings of the dead.

Name “Yaya” appears repeatedly, possibly a nickname or spiritual moniker.

Multiple entries imply mistreatment by an unnamed governess and inappropriate attentions from a male figure— possibly Nathaniel Wayne, referred to as “The Master”

Final pages include erratic symbols and fragmented writing.

Catalogued by: A. Kearney, Archivist

Accessed by: John Constantine

[Journal Entry--date unknown]

madam is sick. she don’t rise no more. she dont eat cept a bite or sip. the babe did wake at the 3rd hour. madam did not move. I shaked her and say “madam, the babe be hungry” but she dont hear me or dont want to. I give the babe pap. he cry till light come. master come home after a long while. I say madam be bad sick. he say I am to sit with her, watch her close. I dont want that. I dont like the room. there is little fiends there. they watch me by madam bed. I do not tell master that. nites is heavy. sumone is watchin me. not the shades. not them. it feel like eyes behind the wall. when I cant sleep I rock the babe. the babe burn hot. he dont stop crying.

lace is hard to make. takes long time. like the babe. the babe call me Yaya. he cant say my name rite. master say my name much. he say it pretty. he say it soft. he say it like a prayr.

miss did screem at me for the pot fallin. twas not me what done it. twas the babe. they be walkin now. but not walkin right. I din’t say nothin to miss. she hit my hands with the switch. five time. it hurt bad. I did not cry but I wanted. I went to market today. wheat cost dear.they say crops be dyin. they grow then curl up dead. they whisper bout miss annie. they say she be witch. I bringed her a flouer. she gave me a shilling

the babe love flouers. in the mornin when I dont see them, they be in the medow. I scold them but they smile. then I smile too. master bring me a fruit. a fig he call it. it taste like honey. smell like flouers. I say thank you. master say he bring me more.

master’s oldest is kind. he been at school. he know many things. he come home and smile at me. not like others do. he say my lace is real pretty. I say thank you. I think I was smilin too.

madam died. she was in bed. I was by her side. the babe was in my lap. they was sleepy but tryn not to. I say sleep now. then madam say “may I sleep?” I say yes. she dont wake up.

no one say nothin bout madam. the house is quiet but not soft. it feel heavy like rain comin. miss wont look at me. she give me chores and dont say please. the babe cry more now. they look at doors like they waitin. I clean madam room but I dont touch the bed. I think she still there. not in the bed. in the walls. in the air. I say sorry. I dont know why. just feel like I must. I tell the babe she sleepin long. they nod like they know. master come to me today. he say I done good with madam and the babe. he say I am strong girl. he touch my hair. I dont like it. he say I look like spring. I dont know what he mean. he say I must stay close now. he say he need me. I nod. I dont speak. when he go, I wash my hair.

the oldest come again. he say I should go. I didn’t know why. it made my heart hurt. did I wrong him? he not mad. he look sad. he say there a place. far. kansas, he say. he take me if I say yes. I don’t know.

the big one is gone. the oldest. they say he fall in the pond. but he swim good. he always swim. they pull him out and he don’t breathe. miss scream. master dont. the babe hold tight to me.  I think I saw somethin. his eyes was open when they find him. mouth too. like he tryin to say.

miss be mad at me. I heard her and master talkin low. she say I am cursed. say I bring bad things. maybe I do. I see things. but I dont tell her. I never told her. she aint s’posed to know. maybe they tell her. the ones in the walls. the ones what watch. shell go to the revrent, she says. she say I am made wrong.  that sin do live in girls what got no mama. Revrent say the Lord don’t suffer witches. I don’t be no witch.

miss is gone now. I found her. bottom of the stair. her neck was wrong. bent like branch. they say she fell. but she don’t fall like that. master come. not alone. men with him. he grab me. took me to the cellar. it cold down here. I aint done nothin.

A/N: ooh getting into Yaya's past. She's supposed to be semi-literate so that's why the spelling is bad. I promise it's not cause I suck at writing. Btw, you ever written for a puritan era semi-literate servant? Shit's hard. Anyway, hope you liked it!

[p0orbaby]

She’ll Know Me Crazy, Soothe Me Daily

summary: you go into labour (leah’s version)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and labour, who’d have guessed

a/n: i got a request for this and dropped everything at work to write it so if i get fired it’s your fault !

word count: 1.8k

-

It’s three a.m., and you’re lying in bed in that half-dream, half-wake state, thinking about nothing and everything at once—plans, names, logistics, the strange feeling in your back, how Leah’s snoring sounds almost like a broken radiator. You’d drifted off earlier with the usual suspects on your mind—last-minute nursery tweaks, what it’d be like to actually meet this new person, how you’re supposed to keep them alive once they’re here.

Then suddenly you’re very awake. And aware. The kind of aware that has you blinking up at the ceiling, trying to gauge if you’re imagining this, if maybe it’s all just part of the anxious last-few-weeks-of-pregnancy weirdness. But no, no. It’s real. The sensation you’d ignored all night is now gripping you in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Your waters have broken.

You’re in labour.

In the midst of grappling with this sudden, primal realisation that your body is not only capable of this but actively doing it, your first instinct is to look to Leah. After all, this is the same Leah who can keep her head in the midst of a stadium of screaming fans, who’s always told you, right up until yesterday, that she’s “got this, babe.” The same Leah who’s been planning this night in her head like a military operation—bags packed, snacks labelled, an entire eight-page birth plan on the kitchen counter with sections highlighted in three colours. She’s got this.

You roll over and give her a shake. “Leah,” you hiss, breath short and tight, like you’re hoping the urgency will slip through the layers of her sleep.

She doesn’t stir. Instead, she mumbles something incoherent and continues snoring, entirely oblivious to the fact that you are, in real time, about to bring a whole new human into the world.

“Leah,” you say, louder now, and with a sharper jab to her shoulder. “Leah, wake up. My waters just broke”

This gets her. She bolts upright, eyes bleary and unfocused, looking around with all the awareness of someone woken up by a fire alarm. She has one sock on and her hair is falling out of her bun in every direction, sticking to her forehead in curls that make her look, for lack of a better description, entirely unhinged. What?” she blurts, looking at you like you’ve just told her the moon’s fallen out of orbit.

“I said, my waters just broke. I’m in labour”

She stares at you blankly, and then at the clock. “Now? Like…now, now?”

“Yes, now, Leah. That’s how it works”

“Oh… oh my god. Okay. Right.” She throws herself out of bed, hands flailing a bit in what could generously be called an attempt to find her balance, looking every bit like she’s just woken up in the middle of a burning building. She blinks, rubs her face, and then stares around the room with all the sharp focus of someone who’s lost all concept of time, place, and purpose.

She begins moving around the room, grabbing objects seemingly at random—a pair of your slippers, a half-empty water bottle, the book she’s been reading that she still hasn’t finished because every time she gets to a chapter break she’s distracted by some tangent or half-thought that spirals out of control. You watch as she picks up her phone, only to immediately drop it in a panic.

You try not to laugh. You fail, slightly, but she’s too distracted to notice.

“Hospital bag,” you remind her. “By the door”

“Right, yes. The hospital bag.” She says it with the blankness of someone who’s just been reminded of the existence of the universe itself. She nods emphatically, almost comically, and rushes out of the room, one sock on, one sock off, muttering, “Hospital bag. Yes. By the door. Got it”

For a few blissful seconds, she’s out of the room, and you can breathe, collecting yourself in the strange solitude. You can’t help but feel a strange, surreal amusement in the whole thing—after months of birthing classes, of Leah listening intently to the instructor, nodding along like she was studying for the final exam, of stacks of books and bookmarked articles and quiet reassurances that she’d be ready…she’s now charging through the house like a headless chicken, her panic almost louder than the quiet early-morning calm.

She’s back in less than a minute, looking absolutely horrified. “It’s… it’s not there”

“What do you mean, it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not—by the door. I don’t see it. Did we…did we put it somewhere else?” She’s visibly panicking now, eyes wide and darting around as if the bag might materialise if she looks in enough absurdly irrelevant places, like the windowsill or behind the potted plant.

“It’s by the door,” you repeat, managing to keep your tone steady and encouraging, despite the fact that you’re, oh right, currently in labour.

“Right,” she says again, nodding in a way that looks almost mechanical. “Right, yes. By the door. Of course”

She’s off, scrambling out of the room with one sock half-off, muttering the word “bag” to herself like it’s some kind of holy incantation. The momentary peace of her absence gives you a moment to focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling in slow, measured counts, trying to recall the absurd number of hours you spent watching labour tutorials and wondering if any of that information will come back to you now, in the thick of it.

Moments later, she returns, this time clutching the bag triumphantly in one hand. Her face is a strange mix of pride and exasperation, like she’s just conquered Everest but is deeply unimpressed with the mountain.

“Got it,” she announces, as if the sheer act of retrieving it from the entryway deserves some sort of medal. She sets the bag down on the bed with an air of absolute finality, as though the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.

You smile at her, keeping your voice calm. “Alright, love. Let’s get dressed and head out”

“Dressed,” she echoes, her face going blank again as if the concept of clothes is suddenly beyond her comprehension.

“Yes, Leah. Clothes. You might want to put some on”

For a long moment, she stares at the wardrobe as though it’s some kind of cryptic puzzle. Then, with an almost bewildered shake of her head, she pulls it open and begins pulling out clothes at random—a pair of jeans, a jumper she only wears when it’s freezing, and, inexplicably, a thick wool scarf.

“Leah, it’s June”

She freezes mid-scarf-wrap, blinks, and slowly unwinds it. “Right, yeah. June. Good. Warm.” She tosses the scarf aside, looking faintly sheepish.

“Hang on… should I call someone? I feel like we should call someone. Do we… call 999? Or is that just for emergencies?”

“Leah,” you manage between breaths, “this is an emergency. It’s literally… labour. It’s happening right now”

“Right! Emergency.” She nods rapidly, like a bobblehead on overdrive, and jabs at her phone screen with so much intensity that it nearly flies out of her hand. She stops mid-dial, eyes wide with panic. “Wait. No, no…maybe we just drive there? Or do they… do they send someone?”

You look at her, trying not to let your exasperation show through the mounting pain. “Leah, we’re just going to drive. We’ve been through this.”

“Right. Yes. Driving. Of course. I knew that.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the panic, muttering, “I’m just—okay. Drive. Right. Okay.” She finally lets go of her phone and starts making her way toward the door, muttering things like, “Got it. We’ve got this,” in a way that sounds more like she’s trying to reassure herself than you.

But then she stops. Turns. Looks back at you, blinking in realisation. “Are you…are you alright?”

“I’m in labour,” you say with a thin smile, “so no. Not really. But let’s keep going”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.” She nods like you’ve just imparted some deep wisdom, like the words in labour contain ancient knowledge previously unknown to her.

By now, another contraction has hit, and you’re clutching the edge of the bed, breathing through it with every bit of focus you can muster. Leah watches, horrified, looking like she might faint just from witnessing the sheer audacity of labour itself.

“Should I… is there something I can… I don’t know, can I do something?” She’s hovering now, looking at you helplessly like she’s waiting for you to hand her a to-do list.

You grit your teeth, squeezing out a reply. “Just… breathe. With me. Okay? In… and out”

She takes a shaky breath, her hand rising and falling in time with yours as if synchronising her breathing might somehow keep you both tethered to reality. For a moment, it’s almost peaceful, the two of you breathing in unison, a strange little pocket of calm amid the chaos.

And then, just as quickly, the panic is back.

“Wait. Snacks. We’re going to need snacks”

“Snacks?” you manage, halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“Yes. For energy. They said snacks are crucial.” She’s already halfway to the kitchen before you can protest, practically flinging open cupboards and rummaging through drawers with the frantic energy of someone who’s just realised they’re on an episode of MasterChef and has thirty seconds left on the clock. She emerges with an armful of items that make absolutely no sense together—a banana, a bag of crisps, two protein bars, and, inexplicably, a tin of chickpeas.

You stare at the tin in her hands. “Leah, we’re not bringing chickpeas”

“They’re protein,” she says, with a ridiculous level of conviction.

You watch, trying desperately not to laugh as she rummages through drawers, muttering about water bottles and phone chargers and—god help you both—“emergency blankets.” She’s wearing one shoe, and her sock has somehow ended up on her hand, and she’s pacing so frenetically that she nearly trips over her own feet at least twice.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to corral her towards the door, where she stops suddenly, wide-eyed and visibly distressed.

“Wait!” she exclaims, her hand shooting out to grip your arm in sheer, abject horror. “The… the speaker for the birthing playlist!”

You stare at her blankly for a moment before realising that, yes, she’s referring to the hours-long playlist she’d meticulously curated in the months leading up to this moment—a mix of calming piano tracks, soothing instrumentals, and, inexplicably, a handful of 80s power ballads that she swore would “keep the energy up.”

“We… we don’t have time for the speaker, Leah”

She looks at you like you’ve just suggested abandoning a child. “But you… we planned it. I spent hours on Spotify—”

“We don’t need the speaker,” you tell her, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm. You’re at the door, shoes on, bag in hand, and if she doesn’t start moving soon, you’re fairly certain you’ll be having this baby right here in the hallway.

She stares at you, visibly torn, before finally nodding, reluctantly. “Right. No speaker. We can…we’ll improvise”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “We’ll improvise”

And finally—finally—she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps out the door, hand in yours, still muttering under her breath about the playlist, about snacks, about breathing techniques and birthing balls and god knows what else.

[octaneink]

‘Cause I'm alive when I feel you pressed up to my side

James Marriot x Fem!Reader

Summary : James simps through music Warnings : None (Unless you count me writing James as a sap) Notes : I saw the pictures taken by vap0rize_ on TikTok and my mind spiraled. I am so sorry if this is out of character for James. It is also based on a song called Happy Slides by Daily J!

The sun had barely crested the horizon as James stared out of the dust-splattered window of the tour bus with a notebook and pen in hand, his heart once again feeling heavier than the luggage stored beneath him. The vast, warm and bright expanse of the Australian motorway stretched before him, a stark contrast to the cosy flat in Brighton he'd left behind in the UK with the girl who'd captured his heart. The quiet hum of the engine had been his lullaby for days, a deafening contrast to the music he performed and the roars of crowds at each event.

The band members were scattered throughout the bus. Jago knocked out on one of the chairs with a pair of eye masks and ear plugs on, Matt and Jono individually flipped through well-worn dog-eared pages of books. Sam sat quietly moving his fingers on his guitar, mindful of making any noise, and Lou sat at the wheel.

James tapped his pen on the book, the page made looked like it had more things crossed out rather than actually containing legible words. The most recognisable being ‘song for you’, which made him think. Would you see it as cheesy? Would you even want a song dedicated to you? The both of you had only been officially dating for five months, slowly dancing around each other for eight, and been friends for two years. Was he coming on too strong?

Huffing, he flipped back a few pages to where the lyrics began. His pen hovered over the words, lightly tracing the lines he'd scribbled down weeks ago late in the night. The words bringing memories that held a warmth that bloomed deep within his chest, a melody of a time he struggled to capture at the moment. 

The words were created weeks ago before James left for his newest tour. Harsh winds shaking the bins under the window of their shared flat. The flat itself was warm, cosy, with a strong smell of aromatics as his girlfriend cooked their last meal they’d share for a while, and the occasional meow from Otto. James smiled softly and stared adoringly at her as every time the cat meowed, she’d respond in return, pretending to hold a conversation with him. 

He felt like a disgusting sap every time he thought about anything that was related to her. Her infectious laughter, and how the way her smile had a way of reaching into his very being — where one look, he’d melt, any stress he’d feel before having magically disappear. In the small, shared space, she had become more — his muse.

The pages fluttered as he flicked through them, revealing a photo of the three of them taped to the inside cover of the notebook. It was a Polaroid, peeling at the edges, the tape lifting as James did this for the 3rd time when he got a new notebook. She was cuddling Otto in her arms, while he had one of his arms around her waist. She faced the camera, eyes squinting slightly, with smile lines sprouted from them, while he looked at her with an utterly lovestruck expression it made his head hurt. Before her, he didn’t know he could look at anyone like that.

James blinked back to the warm tour bus as he read the words again. “Let's never leave this room.” he mouthed to himself, the memory of her voice echoing in his mind. The three lines on the page had come to him as naturally as her smile had stolen his heart—unexpected, unassuming, and utterly captivating. 

Though, he struggled to complete the piece. 

“James, you okay, mate?” Lou, peered at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes bleary with the remnants of last night's sleep and today’s early rise.

James looked up, his gae lingering on the horizon. “Yea mate, just tired.” he answered.

Lou nodded, the minutes pass between them in silence, then the bus lurched suddenly. “Shite.” Lou spat, turning the indicator to merge safely into the hard shoulder. The engine thwapping through the way, before it gave one last, loud, thwap and sputtered to a halt. 

The sudden silence was jarring, and the lads looked at one another with a mixture of shock and annoyance. 

“Bloody tour bus.” Matt muttered from the back, breaking the silence, and a round of groans and complaints ensued.

“Right,” he said as the others started to get up, “I’ll sit somewhere and keep out of the way. I doubt I would be of any help.” Noises of agreement bid him goodbye as he walked out of the tour bus with what he had on hand. As he walked away from it, he placed the pen as a bookmark and closed the notebook with an audible snap. Then, walking over the short metal fence, he sat on it facing the bush. 

A few minutes passed of him mindlessly humming an imaginary tune, then his mind raced with a sudden spark of inspiration. He knew he had to write it down it before it slipped away. He turned back to his notebook, the lyrics that had once felt so elusive now flowed from his pen like a river released from its dam.

The words picked up from the picture of their lives together in Brighton—the way the light hit their living room when she drank her morning cup, the sound of her socked feet on the wooden floor as she danced around Otto, who chased the cat toy in her hand playfully. 

As the bus sat there, a silent sentinel on the side of the road, James wrote until his hand cramped. He didn’t notice the passing cars, the sun rising higher in the sky, or the sound of his bandmates talking with a stranger about the breakdown. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the symphony of words that played out on the page before him.

Finally, with the sound of a distant tow truck approaching, he scribbled down the last word, with the tune clearer in his mind, he smiled broadly staring down at it. 

In the back, the driver of the tow truck climbed out, a burly man with an interesting hair cut and a kind smile. “Looks like you’ve got a loose fan belt, lads. We’ll have you sorted in no time.”

James nodded absently, his mind still lost in the world he’d just created in his notebook. As the band members moved to stand by him, and with the mechanic tinkering away, he remained seated on the metal fence, the song becoming clearer and clearer as the moments passed by. 

Humming the tune absent-mindedly and tapping the pen on his thigh as the beat caught the attention of Jogo. He looked over silently at James’ notebook, reading the words on it, a smile slowly started to spread across his face, “You fucking sap.” 

James startled, looking over him and seeing Jogo’s smug smile. James rolled his eyes. 

“What do you mean by that?” James replied, playing it off as if he wasn’t aware of what he had done.

Jogo snickered. “Don't play dumb with me. You've got hearts in your eyes and her name paraphrased multiple times all over your page.”

James felt his cheeks warm, and he quickly slapped the notebook shut. “It's just a song.”

The band members, having heard the exchange, gathered around curiously. “What's he got?” Matt asked, peering over Jogo's shoulder.

Jogo pointed the notebook out. “Looks like James here is feeling romantic. And he's been keeping it from us.”

James rolled his eyes again, “It's just an idea. Nothing serious.”

But the excitement on their face was palpable. “Come on, man,” Sam said, clapping him on the back, “Don't hold out on us. What's the new tune?”

With a sigh, James realised he couldn’t keep it from them any longer. He'd written it for her, but he didn’t expect the others to know of it so soon. “Okay,” he said, “But if it's shit, you can't laugh.”

The guys chuckled and stood closer around him, expression eager. He began to hum softly, the pen tapping on his thigh with a beat, then he took a deep breath and began to sing.

As melody grew, filling the surrounding space, and their eyes lit up as they recognised the potential. “That's a hit, James!” Jono said, clapping his hands.

James felt his cheeks flush under their praise. “It's just the start, really. Nothing special yet.”

But their enthusiasm was infectious, and each of them asked questions on what part they fit into as they drove off in the newly fixed tour bus. And as they pulled up to the new hotel near the venue they would play the night, Lou said “We'll make it something special, mate.” said with a grin, already tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel of the bus.

So, every night before they went on stage, they'd gather around on the stage, dim lights as production set up around them. James with his guitar, Sam with his bass, Jago with the drums, Lou with the keys, Matt and Jono on their guitars. They'd play around with the melody, adding bits and pieces, turning James' quiet confession into something that could shake people’s hearts.

The song grew into something that didn't just belong to James any more, but to all of them. It was a piece of their collective heart, a love letter to a girl they hadn't met but knew well through James' stories.

The days leading up to the last concert were a whirlwind of rehearsals and whispers. The band dropped hints to their eager fans through social media, building anticipation. Edits on TikTok popped up with a silhouette of James and his guitar, with the words 'Surprise at the end??' were in bold in the video’s descriptions. Many fans not in Australia called for the last concert to be streamed illegally. As for the people that were there, they were vibrating with excitement as the date grew closer. 

The hours before the last concert, James sat in the hotel room, his heart racing as he went over the lyrics for the final time. He could hear the muffled sounds of the city outside, but all he could see was her face, imagining her reaction to this song. He hoped it would reach her in Brighton, that she'd feel the same way he felt when he wrote it—alive.

As the sun set on the last day of their tour, the band's nerves were palpable. They'd been playing together for a while, but this was different. This song was personal, a secret shared with a crowd of strangers. The venue was packed, the lights were hot, and the air was thick with anticipation. The crowd roared as they took the stage, and James looked out into the sea of faces.

The setlist flew by, each song a stepping stone to the grand finale. The energy built, and the crowd sang along to their favorites, their voices a symphony of love and longing that echoed through the speakers. 

And then it was time. 

The stage went dark. A single spotlight fell on the band, and Jogo started the song with his drums, teasing a quiet introduction. The rest waited, their instruments poised, ready to bring the song to life.

The crowd, once lively, was silent, holding their breath for James to start singing. 

As they played, James couldn't help but think of her, her laugh, her smell, the way she'd look at him when he played her his favourite tunes. He sang with every ounce of his soul, hoping she could feel it, hoping she knew it was for her. And as the last chord rang out and the applause erupted, he knew he had given her a piece of himself that no one else could ever claim.

The aftermath of the show was a blur. 

One moment he was on stage singing his heart out for the world to see, then he was in the quiet hotel room, luggage packed for his return home in the morning. 

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over her number. He'd call her when the dust settled, when he could finally hear his heartbeat without the deafening applause. He had so much to say, so much to tell her about the journey this song had taken him on. But for now, he leaned back in the bed and closed his eyes, the echoes of the music still playing in his ears, a promise of what was to come when he finally returned home.

The flight home was a blur of airport terminals, screaming people, and sleeplessness, but the moment his feet touched the ground in London Gatwick, his tiredness evaporated. He took the earliest train, then a cab straight to their flat. It was late, and the lights were on when he arrived.

He knew she'd be waiting.

James placed the key into the lock, turning the key and stepped through the door. He removed his shoes, put on some slippers and took of his coat, hanging it up by the door. Then he walked into the livingroom. He saw her, curled up on the sofa with Otto in her arms. 

She looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw him, and for a moment, he forgot all about the tour, the bus breakdown, the song. They rushed into each other's arms, and everything felt right again.

“Welcome home.” he hugged her tighter, “We missed you.”

He pressed a kiss on her head, “I missed you both too.” 

James moved them so they sat at the sofa, limbs intertwined “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

She smiled mischeviously up at him “Oh, I think I may have an idea.” pecked him on the lips “I think everyone online has an idea.”

James felt his cheeks redden slightly “Well, it's not like I was keeping it a secret or anything...”

They both laughed, and she cuddled closer into him, her head resting on his chest as they sat on the sofa. Otto jumped up and nestled in between them, purring contentedly.

“But seriously, James, it's beautiful. Thank you.” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

He kissed the top of her head, and they sat there watching the tv “It's true, you know.” he said, looking at her.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness as she looked up at him, then she leaned in to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I know.” she murmured, smiling. James puled her tighter to his side as her next words left her lips, “Let's never leave this room. What do you say? ‘Cause I'm alive when I feel you pressed up to my side”

I will say it with full CHEST, when I saw those pictures taken by vap0rize_.... IT WAS OVER

I HAD NO THOUGHTS LEFT

I felt absolutely filthy I had to make something cute to make up for it. I hope I hit the mark!

On another note this is the song that inspired this fic. Idk how to make it smaller 😞

[gumigirl]

thinking about you! megumi f. x fem!reader

an: where his love lies' prologue is coming soon TRUST i just needed to get this off my chest// i really can't take myself seriously while writing smut

cw: smut, masterbation , aged up char, pre-estab relationship.

you'd been gone on a mission to Okinawa for a week. which was fine, but megumi did tend to get a bit lonely on his own. he had no one to yap to about his books, even if you probably didn't know what he was talking about half the time— at least you listened. of course, you called and texted every day, but he missed your presence. you being there with him.

it was probably day four of your seven week mission when you noticed. megumi didn't call, did he? it was nine, but he always called at eight. you'd already done your skincare, just about ready to settle into bed before you noticed the irregularity on your boyfriend's end. so you picked up your phone, maybe he messaged? yeah, there were four messages in your inbox.

you clicked on his chat, seeing that he sent you a video, the cover being a black screen. odd. you clicked on the video anyway.

almost immediately, you were greated with quite the sight. megumi's phone was angled on his desk so you could see everything from his mouth go down— not showing his entire face in the video. his shirt was pulled up, the hem held between his teeth, showing off his pale abdomen. the grey sweatpants he wore were tugged down, just enough for his cock to spring out, pale fingers wrapped around it as he stroked himself at a deliberately slow pace. the last thing you noticed, from the sliver of his desktop that you could see. he was jerking off you your instagram page. your highlights, completely innocent pictures, he was getting off to it. one's that were more risque, showing off a little more of your body, his pace quickened.

muffled whimpers escaped his lips barely. yuuji's dorm was right next to his, so he was probably trying to keep himself quiet. but still, his hand moved up and down his shaft, his pace only quickening— stark contrast from the languid thrusts he started with at first. his tip oozed pre-cum, that he smeared all over his cockhead with a shuddering exhale as he bucked up into his own fist. after a couple more thrusts up into his own fist and a strangled noise, thick ropes of cum splat out of him, painting his abs as the rest dripped down his cock like forbidden icing. his 'clean' hand reached over to his phone, ending the video.

after a brief moment of silence to process what you just saw, you'd click off the video probably saving it to you cloud before deciding to read what on earth he could've sent after that.

“missed you a little more today.”

“gonna sleep.”

“good night🖤”

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here) | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[nuetralizedevangelist]

❝sleeping alone ❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- was listening to flatland cavalry and i couldn’t resist a short n sad fic abt billy bc i’m evil

| WARNINGS- a sad man who misses his girlfriend a verrrryyy small mention of death and war.

william h. bonney x reader angst? fluff?

as billy lays alone in the hostel bed he quickly begins to regret agreeing to jesse’s proposal of this job in lincoln county. he’s almost a days ride away from you and he has no idea if you’re okay. he can’t believe he used to sleep like this every night, no one to hold.

his mind wanders to the prayers his mother used to lay over him and joe, before everything turned sour in his life. he can’t remember the last time he prayed, feeling like no one’s listening. he doesn’t need a god when he has you, but he doesn’t have you right now.

he clasps his hands together just like he did all those years ago. “i haven’t done in this in quite some time, sorry if it’s not uniform prayer. i just want my girl to be okay without me, and for her to healthy and safe. oh! and for me not to get shot. amen.” he suddenly feels very stupid and confused as to why he thought his words into the empty air would assist him at all, but anything’s worth a shot. especially when it comes to his girl.

he rolls onto his side, just like he does every night with you. he holds a pillow to front pretending it was you instead a bag of feathers. he never realized how warm you were until he couldn’t feel your warmth at all. his eyes drift close and he falls asleep to memories of you.

eight hours away by horse, you lay alone in your shared bed with billy. only it’s not shared for a while, it’s just your bed. he’s working, he loves working! you thought trying to make yourself feel better about being by your lonesome. the bed feels like it’s miles long with just your body inhabiting it. you stare at the stationary sitting on your desk, illuminated poorly with one candle.

you write slowly and methodically to billy. he won’t be home for months so you figured you’d might as well start the letters. you write paragraphs upon paragraphs of how much you miss him, how much you love him, and how quiet the night is without his laughs filling the air. you trail off and start telling him about the town gossip you’ve heard but eventually get back on track. spraying your perfume over the pages and an invisible kiss by your signature, you fold it up and press the wax to seal it.

billy and jesse walk back in the saloon below the hostel’s doors. “oh! mr. billy you’ve got a letter! from a lady” the young boy wiggles his eyebrows and hands the letter to billy. he tries to fight the smile but jesse pats his back, rather hard but a kind gesture nonetheless. “the girl of yours is already sending letters after a day? you’ve got her wrapped around her finger.” billy shakes his head laughing. “that’s where you’re wrong, it’s the complete opposite.” he confesses and walks up the stairs to read your letter in private.

he instantly notices the scent of your perfume and all of the tension in his body melts away. he’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s reading but holds your letter to his chest after. he walks over to his own desk and begins his own letter to you, he might not see you for months but he’ll be damned if he can’t talk to his girl.

he consistently writes to you and letting you know what’s going on and how stressful things have gotten. you’re proud of him for switching to tunstall’s side because it was the right thing to do, you’ll always admire that about him. the worry for his well-being overtakes the admiration as you quickly gather your necessities and get dressed. you’re out the door and mounting your horse within the hour, riding to lincoln. you’d rather walk to hell and back than not see billy before he gets hurt.

you reach lincoln county much faster than you expected, maybe your horse sensed the desperation leaking from your pores. you ask a kind-eyed woman about tunstall and she directs you a few minutes north. you thank her make your way slowly to your destination. as your eyes focus on the beautiful country home in the dark, your heart flutters. you almost feel sick with how anxious you are, your eyes haven’t laid on billy in three months.

you quickly tie your horse to a fence post and rush towards the door, knocking rapidly. an unfamiliar man opens the door and smiles at you. “how can i help you, madam?” he speaks confidently with a british accent, this must be tunstall. “oh well, um, i was just wondering if billy was here?” he snaps his fingers and turns his head to yell for billy.

billy’s stomach dropped upon hearing his name being called, he’s thinking it might be jesse trying to pick a fight but when his eyes settle upon you his world stops. everything slows down but his heart speeds up to impossible levels. he smiles wide and laughs while running to you. his arms envelope you and you’re drowning in his scent, squeezing so hard he thought you might’ve bruised a rib. “what’re you doin’ here, doll? did you ride here alone? do you know how dangerous that is? have you ate? are you okay?” you giggle at his ambush of worried questions and put your hand over his mouth. tunstall walks away with a grin, never seeing billy so happy.

“yes i rode alone, yes i know the dangers, no i haven’t ate yet, and yes i am okay. i just couldn’t take the thought of you being so stressed with the possibility of getting hurt without me here. i also figured it was due time for a visit.” you mutter softly, never taking your eyes off him. drinking in the sights of the man you love with every fiber of your being.

he quickly ushers you inside and guides you to a main room. “gentleman, this is my girl.” he introduces you and you smile and manage a slight wave. “this the girl you’re always talking about and never shutting up about how pretty she is?” billy goes slightly red and opens his mouth up to talk before closing it. just nodding at the embarrassment. you smile up at him “you tell people how pretty you think i am? you’re so sweet! that’s adorable.” billy sighs and leads you to a seat at the table and fixing you a plate for dinner.

as you both lay together that night in the same bed, everything makes sense in the world. you understand war, they just want this feeling to be safe. your eyes begin to fill with tears as you’re just so relieved and happy to be with your love again.

“i was gettin’ real tired of sleeping alone. considered climbing into bed with charlie but i don’t think he’s as warm as you.” you laugh and gently slap his chest.

all is right in the world, because your world is filled with love.

[penkura]

Late Night Talks

Note: Decided to write this after this week's OP episode, hope all my Law fans are doing okay. :') It'll be fine, I'm sure. This is just some cute late night talking for Law and Reader, not connected to where you belong but is connected to the OP Men as Dads series, I suppose.

“You should sleep.”

Law is only a little bit startled when you speak, laying your arm across his chest while he lays back in your bed with a book in his hand, lamp and reading glasses still on despite the time. He hadn’t even realized it was almost 2am already, only checking the clock now and feeling slightly guilty.

“Did the light wake you?”

“No,” eyes still closed you shake your head, giving a small sigh when Law brings you closer with his free hand, “A few small kicks to my ribs did it. What are you reading tonight?”

“The fourteenth volume of Sora.”

“Gotta keep ahead of Rosi?”

“Hmm,” Law hums a bit and flips a page, not fully paying attention to the book, he’ll have to start this chapter again tomorrow, “Not really, but he likes to talk about it when I pick him up from school. I’m just refreshing myself on it.”

“Oh, please, like you don’t already know what happens.”

“Hey its been a while since I’ve read it. I need to make sure it’s still age appropriate too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Laughing softly, you pat his chest which makes Law chuckle a bit in return, “He’s so smart though, especially for an eight year old. I’m sure he understands it all anyway.”

“He gets it from you.”

“Nope. Gets his looks and smarts from his father.”

“[Y/N]—”

“At least Cora has my eyes. Speaking of, your daughter would like a trip to the park later today.”

“Oh would she now?” Law raises an eyebrow at the ‘your daughter’ part, wondering what she did this time.

“Mm-hm, specifically asked for her daddy to take her too.”

“Asked?”

“Asked, had a tantrum, whatever you want to call it.”

Law just sighs and shakes his head, not that surprised hearing your nearly three year old had a tantrum earlier that day. Of course it’s common for toddlers, but normally you have nothing to report with Cora when Law gets home and she’s happy to be held and tucked into bed later in the evening. Her tantrums and fits are rate, but seem to happen more lately, he wonders if it’s due to his being at work until late or your pregnancy, but tonight is the first time it’s been mentioned in a while. Maybe he needs to try and talk to her alone.

“We should all go then. Take a walk as a family.”

“Mm…”

“[Y/N]-ya?”

It doesn’t surprise Law to see you’ve fallen back asleep just as quickly as you’d woken up, but he gets it, you’re more tired lately being so close to the end of your third pregnancy, to finally meeting your baby again. He’s as quiet as possible while he closes his book, setting it and his glasses to the side before he adjusts to having you in his arms as he lays down fully beside you. Law whispers a goodnight to you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead with one hand on your stomach to feel the little kicks that had woken you up in the first place before he soon falls asleep himself.

Even though morning is going to come soon, he’s grateful for the late night talks you two still have, even after all these years and now about to be three children. He’ll never get tired of them.

[trikruismybitch]

Trikru's Masterlist

Hey Y'all! Welcome to my page / masterlist. Its my first time making one so it will probably get changed to look better later on lol.

Here's a little bit about myself. My names Grey and I'm 22 years old. I'm the 2nd to last of 5 siblings. I'm in college currently studying criminal law. My hobbies are sleeping and reading/writing. My MBTI is INFP & I'm a sagittarius...anyways enough about me, i hope you like my writing <3

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Did I Cross The Line? Part Two

Natasha and Y/n are married. Y/n arrives home and they end up arguing. Natasha ends up doing something she regrets...will she be able to fix her mistake?

Why not you?

Natasha and Clint arrive at Vormir when an unexpected guest shows up

Never meant...

you've noticed Natasha's been distant lately. After giving her some time you push her to open up to you

Natasha Romanoff Incorrect Quotes

Why are you two being weird?

Jelly fish and brains

your in love with me?

so you find me attractive?

Come on, Jolene

Fuck your hot

Your an ass, Tony

Safe Place

She broke my heart

Is Natasha gonna be there?

Pretty everyday

Comes easy

*Natasha Exists*

Soup

Die bug! Die!

Pick me up at 8

the fuck

interesting, into resting

not special

I'd kill everyone

yeah, i'm a cuddler

give me patience

Steves gonna kill you

How tall are you?

Overwhelmed with fears

No sleep

Panicked and Dabbed

Stop Sexualizing Me!

Justice or Revenge

Dangerous Baby

Sour patch kids

Distinction

Natasha Romanoff Mini One-Shots

Do you regret it?

Don't you remember?

Don't take my sunshine away

You're my anchor

You're breaking my heart

Are you lost?

Are you getting off on this?

You're safe

You did this

Regulations

Moving on by letting go

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

To be added...

Wanda Maximoff Incorrect Quotes

Too tough to cry

I knew it!

Im sad Wanda

Flirting or fighting?

Interesting

Y/n no

Dates and being mysterious

phones dies

muggy out

I'll take care of you

Proposing

Pay attention to me

Gay

Wanda Maximoff Mini One-shots

You were a mistake

WandaNat x Reader

To be added too...

WandaNat Incorrect Quotes

This is on you

Masks my shame

Avengers Incorrect Quotes

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

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