#divider creds — @saradika-graphics.

[loveisunison]

Shout-out to self shippers with "scary" disorders, and I'm talking about the really stigmatized ones. Shout-out to self shippers with "bad" and "scary" symptoms. Shout-out to self shippers who are trying to be good and still do bad things because of their disorder.

Shout-out to schizospec self shippers, shout-out to system self shippers, shout-out to cluster b self shippers, shout-out to low empathy self shippers and shout-out to everyone else who not only has to deal with their mental health issues but also the fact that nobody else understands. And to those who are deemed crazy or evil.

Your f/o loves you, actually, and despite how many times you fall into tendencies that are "too much" for anyone else; they will always love you. No matter how many people call you evil, they will still love you and they will know there's a part of you that wants to be good.

And you know what? If there's no part of you that wants to be good and you're still doing your best to remain kind despite your nature, I see you, and your f/o does too. And they still love you, they always will.

[foreveric]

"𝓘 𝓓𝓞."

pairing — john wick x f!reader content — 70% FLUFF 20% ANGST 5% SMUT words — 2,284 dividers — @saradika-graphics tagging — @feinv and @iovesia (srsly their blogs r what kept us inspired to finish this while sick, lol)

This is it.

The day hundreds of lives were ended so that John would be able to settle down in his life with you, the most precious thing that he’s ever had in his life. You’re like his rock that he’s never had growing up, and he wouldn’t dare risk allowing his bloody career to get in the way of the life that he could have with you. And now, everything that he had planned and gone through that day for this very ceremony was coming into fruition.

Today made it feel like everything he did that night was worth it: all of the lives he took, and the blood he had to so violently spill. Watching you walk down the aisle in the dream wedding dress he’d always imagined on you, kissing you slowly at the altar after you’ve shared your vows to seal your commitment after years of dating each other. 

Hearing the marching music begin to fade in, John’s gaze flickered up to meet your own, even if it was covered slightly by the mesh of the white veil you were wearing. Lifting the veil up, John would flash you a smile full of warmth and affection; the most emotional smile the man was ever able to muster in his entire life — you could just see it behind his eyes.

“Do you, Mr. Jardani Jovonovich, take Ms. (Y/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife…” The Officiant asked, his attention focusing on John as he stood at the altar, holding onto your hands.

A few months earlier, John was in a much different place mentally. Instead of getting prepared for his wedding with you, he was preparing for his final assassination, the “impossible task”, as Viggo called it. Of course, John was more than willing to perform such a task, if it meant getting to settle down with the love of his life.

“You did well, Jonathan.” Viggo commented to John with his hands held behind his back.

“Thanks,” John replied with a small nod of his head, silently expecting Viggo to add onto his statement.

“I suppose you still want to be released from our organization?”

“Yeah.” He answered firmly, yet he still tried to keep himself level-headed after the adrenaline rush of the mission.

“Well, I wish you and your lover the best life.” Viggo replied to John before turning his back to him, holding his hands behind his own back while he stared out the large window that was just placed just behind the desk. “Be seeing you, Mr. Wick.” He added in a colder voice than before. It was a tone that didn’t go unnoticed by John, but he didn’t care then. At least, not about this “family” he’d been stuck in since his childhood. No, now all that he cared about was the future he was about to lead with you.

In the shower at home, you were luckily not home that day, giving John the perfect chance to wash the blood away from his body. None of it was his blood, though. No, he was washing off the lives he’d ended a mere few hours ago. But, he was used to this feeling — he was used to killing, to seeing the red on his hands and chest after an exhausting mission. 

And now, John tried to make himself focus on the plans he had made for today many months ago — to propose to (y/n), and make you his officially. That ring he got a few weeks ago? It was going to be used for this special day. His heart leaped when he opened up the box to check on the ring, the diamond shimmering brightly in the sunlight that seeped in through the nearby glass windows of the mansion he was now sharing with you. A smile painted itself across John’s lips as a reaction to the thoughts he began to have flooding through his mind of the day that would soon be in his future.

Then, just as he’s lost in thought, John’s head whipped up to the sound of the doorbell ringing, announcing your presence at the front door. Quickly hiding the box away from view, underneath the bed, John sprinted out of the bedroom to greet you at the door. There’s a smile still present on his face as you open the door, immediately welcomed by him wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his embrace and kiss the top of your head.

“Hey, hon.” John greeted you, his voice more cheerful than it normally is.

“Hey…how was your day?” You ask, your voice sounding groggy from working long hours throughout the day.

Catching on to your exhaustion, John gave you a light nod of his head before taking his right hand and gently placing it on the back of your neck, his thumb resting on the side of your jawline. 

"I've been thinking about you," he says with a tone of sincerity laced through his voice while his deep brown eyes were locked onto your own.

"Yeah?" You reply with a hint of playfulness that John quickly caught onto, making him smirk down at you.

"Mm-hmm." John murmurs affirmatively right before leaning in to lock his lips onto yours; they always surprise you with how soft they are every time you feel them. After breaking the kiss, he brought his lips up to brush them against your ear, sending shivers down your entire back. "You go take a shower while I cook you some food, alright?" He offers, yet there was a silent hint that he wasn't going to budge on this.

"Okay." You agree, nodding your head lightly in response to the offer John had just made you.

Lying wounded on the cold ground of the warehouse in which Viggo's enemies operated in, John gasped for breath as he locked eyes with the sky, which was pouring down the same tears he nearly shed at the idea of not standing at the altar with you, not putting that ring on your finger, not marrying YOU. He couldn't bear himself if this is how it all ended. When he noticed he was unable to get up, however, you seemed to have a spiritual hold on him — or, maybe even...a connection? John began to hear his phone ring, prompting him to glance down and take a look until he saw that it was your contact displaying as the number that was calling. At first, John was hesitant to answer. Not because he didn't want to answer your call, it would be far from that. No. Instead, it would be because...he was terrified of what you'd think of him if you were to find out about the truth of his past and what he used to do for his life. But, something clicked inside of John for him to press the green button on the keypad of the cell phone, lifting it up to his ear to hear your voice speaking to him once again.

"Hey, babe. I got dinner ready a few hours ago and you didn't come home, are you okay?" You ask as the line connected, the concern evident in the tone of your voice.

"Long story..." John answered in his own weakened and strained voice. You could immediately discern that something was horrifically wrong.

"Where are you?"

Not a beat was skipped between either of you before you swung your purse over and around your shoulder, jingling your car keys in between the crooks of your fingers. John gives you the address to the warehouse he was in. Of course, the sketch location raised questions in your head, but you knew you couldn't probe him for answers now; not when he's in such a risky position.

"I'll be right there." You say as you swing the front door open and begin to rush out to the driveway until you reach the car that was left.

In a matter of no time, John would soon begin to hear the engine of your car rumbling in the near distance until it was parked a mere few yards away from his limp body. "Oh, John!" You exclaim in concern right before rushing over to where John was leaning against the warehouse wall, the adrenaline immediately beginning to course through your entire being.

"I'm alright, honey." John replied in a soft-toned voice that was only meant to comfort you through the distress he knew he must be putting you through.

"I'm going to get you in the car," you declare in a tone that leaves no room for him to argue with you. But, in that moment, it really seemed as though John had no thoughts of even attempting as such. Taking his arm over your shoulder, (y/n) used your strength to walk John back over to your car to the passenger side. Once he was seated, you quickly pulled the seatbelt over John’s chest and buckled him in right before shutting his side’s door and darting around the car until you were able to get into the driver’s side.

Back at home, you gave John the stitches he needed for the deep gunshot wounds he had when you first got to him. There was a surge of emotions flooding throughout your entire mind, mostly being that of fear and concern for John’s well-being. You couldn’t lose him, not when you still have the chance to save him. Shoving away the questions you may have wanted to ask him, you focus on the task at hand of saving his life.

After you took John’s black tuxedo and white dress-shirt off by sliding them up his arms and chest, revealing two gunshot wounds to his right shoulder and chest, eliciting a gasp out of you.

“Jesus Christ, John.”

“I know, I know…” he attempted to speak up while keeping his voice low and soft-spoken, but you were too panicked to even hear him as you prioritized making every last move count.

“This is the worst I’ve ever seen you.” You continue to mumble to yourself as you attempt to concentrate on the bloody wounds that were penetrated straight through John’s skin.

“(Y/N)—”

“Where the Hell even were you?” You question, quickly followed up by an exasperated sigh with your eyebrows furrowing deeply in frustration. The thought of someone hurting John made your blood boil into pure rage.

“(Y/N), relax.” He finally spoke up, this time at a much louder volume than before to ensure that he got your attention. John would then notice you flinch back slightly, prompting him to reassuringly reach both of his hands up to lightly yet firmly place them on the top of either of your shoulders, his thumb slowly rubbing the exposed skin underneath your crewneck top. “I promise, I’m okay.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” You sigh before reaching your hands back down towards the one gunshot wound you were giving stitches to. John appeared to hardly even flinch the entire time, only raising more questions in your head. But you knew that now was not the time to probe for anything. After you have finished stitching up John’s wounds, you exhale out a deep sigh and rub your forehead with the back of your hand. He could see how exhausted you were after a long day, making him reach his hands out to hold onto your shoulders. Your eyes lock onto each other’s.

“Thank you,” John said. A soft smile curls up across the corners of his lips and he trails one of his hands up from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, prompting you to lean in closer to him. Locking your lips, you and John began to share a searing kiss. It was one of those that made your heartbeat start to speed up against the walls of your chest, one that you would never forget for as long as you shall live 

That’s the moment that John recalled when he snapped back into reality to see you standing in front of him, looking like the most gorgeous bride ever. His eyes sparkled with love and affection, his smile growing warmer right as the Officiant continued on with his speech. The music already faded out and it was all silent on the Western front – only the Officiant spoke, and the audience was also silent, even the babies. “— in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The Officiant asked while his head was turned in John’s direction, who answered with a light nod of his head in confirmation.

“I do.” John responded to the Officiant, his eyes never once straying away from yours.

“And do you, Ms. (Y/N), take Mr. Jardani Jovonovich to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

The ring bearers then handed the proper ring to the bride and groom, which was then followed by you and John sliding either ring on each other’s ring finger. You both were smiling gleefully at each other while the trade was made between you. “In the power vested in me, I hereby declare you husband and wife.” The Officiant announced with joy radiating through his tone of voice as he took a small step back, allowing you and John to close the distance between the both of you. “You may now kiss the bride.” He said to John, who didn’t waste a second in making your marriage official.

That kiss, it’s like one that you could only ever dream of. It was one that would change either of your lives forever; not like how your first kiss did, no. This kiss was one that would change the course of your relationship for the rest of your lives, officially making the both of you legally married. He was your husband, and you were his wife. And now, you could live happily ever after.

[sturniqlo]

SHY!MATT AND SHY!READER AU

⛧°。 ⋆༺get to know shy!reader and shy!matt༻⋆。 °⛧

both sfw and nsfw

shy!reader and shy!matt are so fall coded

shy!reader and shy!matt who were each others first for everything and i mean everything

shy!reader and shy!matt who always blush after every kiss, whether it be a peck or a make out session

shy!matt who was so so shy (duhh) to go up to shy!reader when he first laid eyes on her, and once he did he was a mess, stumbling over his words, avoiding eye contact and red as a tomato. she found this cute and was also red as a tomato because she had never gotten that attention from a boy before

shy!reader who always gets into her head about not being good enough for him and shy!matt who always reassures her that's she's everything and more to him.

shy!reader and shy!matt who are lowkey 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼

shy!matt who is always scared that he's going to rough for her during sex even though he's going the perfect pace, having her a moaning and whimpering mess under him.

shy!reader who always covers her face whenever he eats her out while making eye contact with her and shy!matt who slides his hands up her body to remove her hands from her face so he can see how her eyes roll back and how her jaw slacks

shy!reader and shy!matt who always love to go downtown to walk around while sharing headphones (they have the same music taste) and have a picnic in the park. they like to watch the ducks (especially the baby ones) swim around the pond. shy!matt loves to point at the the duck couple and say "look, pretty. that's us."

shy!reader and shy!matt who hate parties. since they're in college, they get invited by their friends to parties here and there. obviously they go together and they're always awkwardly standing in by the door people watching. his arm around her shoulders rubbing it with his thumb. usually after thirty minutes after 'socializing' they go back to his dorm to watch movies. later, he drives her home.

shy!matt who always waits for her outside of the lecture halls, usually he'll have a iced coffee for her and a vanilla scone or a chocolate croissant. when her class ends, she comes out a huge smile on her face knowing matt was a couple of steps outside of the hall and gives his a kiss on the cheek when she reaches him. his face cherry red at the small action of pda.

shy!reader and shy!matt who always hang out in his dorm because she still lives with her parents (she's less than 20 minutes away from campus, and his roommate is almost never there) and he's not ready to meet her parents, not because he doesn't want to, but because he's afraid that they might not like him (even though he's a copy of her) and because he's shy.

shy!reader and shy!matt who say 'i love you' very early in their relationship because they know they've met their match and are locked in for the rest of their lives.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

an: can't wait to write for this au!! also, i've never seen anyone write this au before but if someone has written it please don't send any negativity to me because as i said.. i've never read anything like this!! anyways, send me any ideas or questions you have about out shy couple :)) [divider creds to saradika-graphics]

masterlist | join my taglist

[starieq]

pretty, pretty please, Mr. Dynamight?

a/n; hello! I’m back! Here is a cute little fluff! I saw a TikTok with her and her boyfriend with matching hello kitty pjs, and I just thought of Katsuki, lol. divider creds! - @saradika-graphics thank youuu! -arianna You stared at the adorable Hello Kitty pajama set in their hands, excitement bubbling up despite knowing exactly how Katsuki would react. 

They had always loved cute things, and Katsuki... well, he had a soft spot, even if he vehemently denied it most of the time.

"Hey, look what I found!" You announced cheerfully, holding up the pink pajamas adorned with Hello Kitty's iconic bow.

Katsuki glanced over from where he was lounging on the couch, his expression initially neutral. "What's that?"

"Matching pajamas! I thought it would be fun for us to wear them," you replied, grinning widely.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Hell no. You're not serious, are you?"

You pouted playfully. "Aw, come on, Katsuki! It'll be cute. We'll look adorable together."

Katsuki huffed, clearly torn between his tough-guy persona and the undeniable appeal of your enthusiasm. "I'm not wearing that girly shit."

You knew he was just being stubborn.

 "But look, they're really comfy," you insisted, holding up the soft fabric for emphasis. “Pretty, pretty please, Mr. Dynamight?” You pouted. 

Katsuki sighed, glancing at the pajamas again before meeting your gaze. "Fine, whatever. Just don't expect me to pose for any pictures."

Your face lit up with victory. 

"Deal! Thank you, Katsuki. You won't regret it, I promise."

Later that night, as they both slipped into their matching Hello Kitty pajamas, you couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Katsuki reluctantly wearing his. Despite his grumbling, he secretly didn't mind the cozy pajamas as much as he let on.

"See? I told you we'd look cute," you teased, nudging Katsuki gently.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't get used to it."

As they settled in for the night, you snapped a quick selfie of you two in your matching PJs, Katsuki scowling slightly but unable to hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Deep down, you knew he secretly enjoyed the idea of sharing this silly, cozy moment together.

Taggies! @peachsukii @slayfics @queenpiranhadon

let me know if you wanna be on the tag list!

[a-snake-makes-moodboards]

Holyphone (Stephanie Lauter x Grace Chasity) from Nerdy Prudes Must Die moodboard with birds and stars inspo

requested by: 🪽 anon, ty for the rq!! hope you like it :)

[divider creds: @saradika-graphics]

(all images were found on Google images, including bg)

song to go with it: 'Space Goth Coast To Coast' by Vestron Vulture

Reblogs are appreciated, requests are open!!

[ryrywrites]

Drunken Schoolboy - Anthony Bridgerton

divider creds: @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Pair: Viscount Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Description: Attending a ball hosted by Lady Danbury, the newly-engaged Lady Y/N Roman and Viscount Anthony Bridgerton become separated by the ton. When the watchful eye of high society becomes too much for Y/N, she retreats into the library where she's met with her very drunk fiancé.

Warnings: Anthony coming onto the reader drunk, nothing but fluff here 🫶🏻

WC: 2.6k

A/N: Work has been tearing me up and I needed some Bridgerton fluff. This one is little short but I'm working on some longer stuff for you guys. This was just a cute lil idea 🥰 Enjoy!

Update: As I was writing this, Tumblr said fuck you to my hard work and deleted literally everything so...I want to die. Okay, enjoy 😃

anthony bridgerton masterlist × main masterlist

Y/N crept down the silent hallway and made her way into the dusty room, scanning her surroundings to make sure no one had spotted her. The dull hum of chattering society and soft music could still be heard from the ballroom as she walked through to shelves of books. Y/N was practically raised among these books and found that her favorite hiding place in Danbury House was this library. Although she appreciated Lady Danbury's hospitality and the amount of work she put into these seasonal balls, Y/N never found them enjoyable. She was always to leave a ball early if she could get away with it, or simply avoid the event all together. But this was her and the Viscount's first appearance out in society as an engaged couple so attendance was necessary, at least, according to her mother. As soon as they arrived, the couple was torn apart by the droves of squawking ladies and a trio of rakish bachelors, who had dragged her dear fiancé away to God knows where. Y/N was almost immediately bombarded with questions and suspicions from the nosy mamas and jealous debutantes who all were wondering why Viscount Bridgerton would choose her over any of them. They poked and prodded, trying to determine what made her so special that she had won the Mr. Bridgerton's favor.

Truly, she herself still had trouble grasping the engagement. I suppose the only true answer to their intrusive questions was that the pair had fallen in love. Over the course of the season, they had a long feud and competitiveness that kept them constantly on their toes around the other. They could not deny their longing for the other and one night, Anthony confessed his true intentions and begged her to release him from this torment and marry him. Of course, she accepted and confessed her own feelings to the man. What the two had found in each other, they had never been able to find in anyone else. A shared understanding of loss, a similar sense of wit and humor, and a love so vast, it truly did conquer all. But tonight, the prying eyes of society had brought her to exhaustion. Her social battery was drained by the time those mothers had come to the conclusion that nothing scandalous had taken place to force the pair into marriage. Once they had nothing to gossip about, Y/N and Anthony became yesterday's news and she was pushed back to the wall, where she stood and watched the many lovely couples dancing and conversing, wondering where her beloved had been swept away to.

She had finally had her fill of tea cakes and awkward isolation. Now, here she stands, scanning the shelves for any book that may occupy her time. Just as Y/N had pulled a book from the shelf, she heard a loud bang against the wall in the library. She was immediately startled and jumped in place, dropping the book with a thump. She turned around to see what had made such a fuss and there stood her promised, a tall sturdy man with tousled brown locks and a royal blue suit coat. Anthony was leaning up against the wall, disturbed, until he spotted his fianceé, holding her chest for dear life. His face quickly lifted in drunken glee and he trudged over to her, she relaxed once she realized who he was. "My dear, what-" Anthony cut her off by wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground, spinning her in a large circle. "My darling, I have found you at last!" He spoke very openly and outlandishly, not caring about his volume. The startled woman let out a yelp of surprise as he twirled her around. She placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to ground herself. "Anthony, you must be quiet!" Y/N whispered and hoped nobody had heard his inebriated outburst of affection.

He smiled cheerfully and obediently hushed his tone, placing her on her feet once more. Y/N was taken back by the man's forward and adoring gaze upon her. Anthony was many things. He was stubborn, competitive, and very subtle with his love in public. The most physical contact that had ever shared was a kiss and an intimate embrace, nothing further. Now, Y/N feared their discovery in such a secluded and dark place with his hands so carelessly roaming her torso. "Dearest, please, what has come over you?" She quickly halted his hands and gently removed them from her corseted waist. She examined him suspiciously and realized the man before her was absolutely sloshed. She placed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "I have been searching far and wide for you! And now you are here! I am so happy to see you." He slurred excitedly, his heart was filled with overwhelming joy at the sight of his beautiful bride-to-be. Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes at his eagerness. She held his hands and guided him slowly to a chair. "Yes, and I am happy you found me." As she slowly seated him in his chair and he laid out lazily and smiled up at her, weary and obviously tired. She knelt before him, lowered herself down to meet his eyeline.

"Anthony, how many drinks have you had this evening?" His head bobbed along with every word she spoke, he watched her lips intently with droopy eyes. His face turned slightly pensive as he thought and then held up five fingers. Y/N eyes widened in disbelief. Those damn hooligans, Anthony's condition was surely their doing. I felt irritation rise within me as Anthony's eyes drooped closed. I lifted myself up and sighed exasperatedly, walking around him and stroking his cheek. "I believe it is time we take our leave, my love." He hummed in reply, loving the feeling of her fingers rubbing his cheekbone. "Please, stay here. I shall return in just a moment." She whispered softly, kissing the top of his head and making her way out of the library, in search of either Colin or Benedict. They had most likely seen their brother in this state before, they would were the only ones who could help her discreetly take Anthony home. Y/N carefully reentered the ballroom, her eyes darting the room for any signs of a Bridgerton. She came face to face with Benedict Bridgerton, just the man she was looking for. "Y/N! How are you this even-" She quickly ignored the pleasantries and carefully pulled him by the arm to the library.

Benedict was very confused, almost concerned by her hurried strides, until they reached the library and he spotted his smashed brother, his legs spread in a splayed position and his head bobbling along to the tune playing in the ballroom. Benedict let out a boisterous chuckle at his incapacitated brother. "Good God. What on Earth happened to him?" He wondered. Y/N shook her head in similar confusion. "I hate to be a bother but I can't exactly...hold him up on my own." He nodded understandingly and moved across the room to where his older brother laid. "Come on, you knob. Let's get you up." Anthony didn't appreciate his brother's insult but lifted himself up with Ben's extended arm. He stumbled for a moment but steadied himself. "I'll alert the valet that we shall be leaving." She turned on her heels and Ben quickly followed after, with Anthony's arm over his shoulder. Anthony was beginning to sober up and groan slightly under his breath. Y/N maneuvered the two men through the crowd of socialites and they finally made their exit. She swiftly notified the valet. Their carriage was pulled around with a couple of whines from the horse and Anthony.

I opened the door for Ben to shove his brother gently into the carriage, he tumbled within the small coach and, at last, found his seat. "Thank you, Ben." Y/N whispered softly, not wanting to draw attention to the scene. He bowed before her with a sly smirk. "He will never live this down." He stated very well pleased, turning around to head back into the ball. As Y/N settled into the carriage, finally able to sit comfortably in her dress, she noticed Anthony beginning to rub his head. "My darling?" She stated curiously. He was suddenly feeling very sober and extremely sick. "Where are we going?" He inquired, his voice strained from the very clear ache in his head. "Home, my love." She placed a warm hand on his knee from across the carriage. He let out a heavy sigh, getting him inside was going to be a difficult feat. As the carriage slowly came to a stop, a footman opened the ornate door and helped the two out of the carriage. Y/N had always appreciated the staff's understanding and compassion towards the Bridgerton family. Anthony could not stand on his own for very long so Y/N placed her arm around the man's waist and threw his arm over her shoulder. She was watching very intently while Ben was carrying Anthony, knowing she would likely have to follow his actions.

He was a hefty man, heavy and large in frame. Every step up the front stairs felt like a mile, even with the footman's help. She was determined to get him inside, even if her face was turning a flushed red from the exercise. Once they reached the door, after what felt like centuries, the footman opened the door for the two of them and took his leave once Y/N dismissed and thanked him for his help. He would certainly be receiving a hefty tip from her in the morning. Anthony was beginning the sober up and hold his weight a bit as the two scuffled to Anthony's bedroom. She had not yet seen his room, it was seen as impropriety to be alone with him in his quarters but she was sure no one would mind, in this particular situation. He laid out on his back, peacefully for a moment and so quietly, she could've sworn he had fallen asleep immediately. Until his body shot up very suddenly, making her jump in surprise. "My word!" This was the third time he had flustered her tonight and she was beginning to become agitated in a very humorous way. "I believe I'm going to be sick." He said very woozily, looking as though he was going to vomit on the floor. Y/N's eyes widened in fear and quickly lifted her dress and made a dash to the kitchen.

She found a bucket and, tripping over herself, ran back to the bedroom, the sound of her heels clicking rapidly against the linoleum floor. She thrusted the bucket into the man's hands and stood back, preparing for impact. He leaned over the bucket for a moment, becoming visibly pale and sweaty. He was still, very still while her body was fully tensed. He shook his head and laid moved the bucket to the floor, placing his elbows on his knees and shaking his head droopily. "My God. What happened? And why?" He moaned annoyed at the feeling that trembled in his stomach and the bile that was beginning to travel to his throat. She cautiously sat beside him on his plush bed and rubbed his back, trying her best to ease his discomfort. "Remind me not to let you leave my side at the next ball." Y/N smiled relieved that he was coherent once again. "No more balls." Anthony groaned. He laid back, whining bitterly. Y/N could not help but chuckle at the man that laid beside her, what a dunce. She absolutely adored him and she could not help but wonder what would make him drink so recklessly. He peaked an eye at the woman, hearing her titter and arching a brow at her. "You laugh at my suffering?" He asked, feigning offense and placing to his heart in shock.

"You are a dramatic jolly man." She continued to smile down at him, attempting to wipe the beads of sweat growing at his brow. He looked up at her with admiration in his eyes. This woman was truly perfect. How could he have been so callous for so long? Better yet, why had she held out through his cruel behavior? Truthfully, Y/N could not find a rational reason why she chose to stick by his side. She considered the idea that she was a fool and lost all rational thought the moment she met Anthony. That is how she justified her stupidity, her inability to avoid the eldest Bridgerton son. "And you..." He leaned up on his elbows, practically man-spreading before her in his navy blue trousers, white-collared button-up dress shirt, and matching navy vest with gold detailing the chest. He wrapped his arms, slowly, around her waist and wiggled around to crawl closer to Y/N until his head nestled comfortably into her skirted lap. "Are a goddess." He mumbled, his words buried deep in her dress. He hugged her waist possessively, inhaling her scent of french lilacs and gooseberries. She looked down at the pretty man and savored this touch, placing a delicate finger to his cheekbone and tracing it to his slightly disheveled hair.

The light crow's feet at the corners of his eyes stretched as he smiled softly, his eyes fluttered close. As she cradled his head in her lap, she wished they weren't separated by her heavy petticoats. She craved closeness and her discomfort in such tight yet puffy clothes was evident with every shift of her hips. Anthony knew tonight had been less than ideal for his future bride, having to coddle and care for him. Anthony allowed his eyes to open wearily and he offered her a half smile which she returned wholeheartedly. Although this was not how she anticipated ending the evening, she was grateful to be away from the nosy eyes and ears of the ton. She watched the way his face contorted to one of guilt and burden. "I am truly sorry, my darling. I know you must think me a scoundrel for my behavior and I do not disagree." His mind was off it's bend and he would not admit his fault so candidly if he was not still slightly boozed. Y/N tilted her head sympathetically. He was not wrong but she did not blame him, not entirely. She did not spoke, allowing him to continue. "What can I do to make this evening up to you?" He requested. She waited a beat, for dramatic effect. There was nothing she wanted more than...

"I know one way you may make amends." She placed a finger to his jaw and smiled longingly. "Marry me, and all shall be forgiven." His eyes filled with emotion, a tender combination of love, gratefulness, and drink. He pushed himself up from her lap, the emptiness making her as uncomfortable as her dress, and leaned forward, placing a firm kiss to her forehead. "That, I shall," He whispered, placing another careful chaste kiss to her cheek. "And more." She gazed upon the man, fearing a tear would escape her tired eye from the emotions and true admiration she shared with Anthony. With such a hasty motion, Anthony did not realize how dizzy and nauseous he was until his stomach began to turn. He clenched his jaw, wired tightly shut, as well as closing his eyes once more to steady himself and tried to push the feeling away but failed with an exasperated sigh. "Dear God, I'm going to be sick." Y/N quickly lifted herself with a push of her palms to the soft quilted mattress and flew to the kitchen to retrieve a cold cloth to place on his head. It would be a long night but he was undoubtedly worth the trouble.

[crookedteethed]

MORESAL of praise | e.m.

Pairing: Up-and-coming Musician!Eddie Munson x Girlfriend Musician reader

Warning: 18+ Cursing, Smut (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Reader is intimidated by Eddie's size, Praise kink, Pet names, cockwarming, Eddie being a tool, barely proofread, reader and Eddie are both in their mid-twenties, From y/n perspective

Word count: 2.7k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

There's a squeak to my door that needs fixing, and a water leak somewhere that needs tending.

I asked my tenant to fix it, but he tells me: "This is what you get when you pay $300 a month."

The Luminary, home of musicians trying to live for cheap.

I sit my guitar case on the creaking floors, and kick off my ten-hut boots.

My apartment had been cold. A dull gray atmosphere manifested itself not only due to the cold weather outside but also the poor insulation through my apartment walls.

The door to my room was slightly cracked and I noticed between the lines of static silence were the faint sounds of acoustic strings.

I opened the door. In my room, there was one dim lamp light lit. It shined a yellow hue on my boyfriend, who sat on the edge of my bed. Eddie had been playing his black acoustic guitar--the one he wrote "This machine slays dragons" in white paint on, his notebook he often wrote in laid open next to him, a black ink pen between the margins of the notebook.

He doesn't look up at me when I tell him "Hi."

His concentration was on the nylon strings of his acoustic guitar as he mutters an "Oh, hey." back.

My boyfriend looked beautiful at the moment, inattentive, yet beautiful. The warm yellow tone reflected his pallor skin, strands of his thick curly hair tucked behind his ear, and a brown celluloid guitar pick between his teeth. Somewhat of a Vermeer painting.

I walk over to my dresser.

"Sorry, I'd broken in." Eddie says. "I needed to be somewhere quiet, my roommates wouldn't give me that." The roommates that had also doubled as Eddies bandmates.

"It's okay." I say, while shimming out of my black satin skirt. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight anyway."

My skirt falls to the floor, it pools around my ankles. Next to come off is my stockings, then my shirt, and lastly my bra.

I catch Eddies eyes lingering on my bareback as I fish for something I can sleep in. My hands pick a shirt that said "Margaritaville" and was four sizes too big.

When I turn back around to Eddie, he's back to strumming a random chord then he writes it down in his notebook.

In the small bathroom that connected to my bedroom, I don't look myself in the mirror when I take off my panties and throw them into the hamper.

Now getting into bed, I crawled over to where Eddie sat, sitting behind him on the weight of my knees.

Eddie had seemed to form some sort of a strumming pattern with his song, but he didn't seem to like the sound of it by the harsh glare he gave his guitar.

"It sounds pretty." I assure him.

He lets out a low mumble that sounds like a "Thank you."

"Thinking about playing it to the guys, play it at our audition at Beacon records, maybe?"

I hum as I slowly walked on my knees, my calloused hands gripping his bare shoulders. "Mmm-hmm," I say as he kept speaking, but I was too busy stroking his hair to fathom anything he was saying.

I lean in closer to his body, enveloping myself in his warmth.

My boyfriend: the thermal.

I bring my lips to his neck, and in one long hard suck, I kiss the flesh. His reaction is what catches me off guard.

"Babe." he turns to me, he stares at me with the same glare he gave his guitar. "I'm almost done." He continued. "Then we can do whatever you want."

The music continues.

My bottom lip start to poke out, and I probably would've started to cry if he was a bit more harsher.

I start to scoot to the head of the bed. "Take as long as you want. I'm going to bed." I tell him.

I get underneath my cold blankets, lay to my side and force myself to sleep (despite not being sleepy).

Suddenly, his strumming stops.

With one eye opened, I peak at him (out of curiosity). I squeeze both my eyes shut when I feel Eddie get up from the bed, his bones cracking in the mitts.

He leans his guitar on the wall, and places his closed notebook on the bedside table.

We accidentally make eye contact when he turns off the lamp light, I squeeze my eyes in a haste, but l feel the smirk on his lips illuminating in the darkness of my room.

Eddie then slips underneath the covers beside me, his clipped nails and rough hands graze the plush of my slender hips. I feel his smirked lips kiss the dip of my shoulder blade.

"I'm trying to sleep." I mumble.

"No you're not." He says, breathing on the nape of my neck.

I feel Eddie's muscular hands turn me over by the shoulders. When we're face to face I get a glimpse of his shadow covered face, alabaster skin darker then normal.

Eddie traces a finger over the line of my jaw and pulled my body tight to his chest. His body heat makes me feel less cold. Eddie brings a warmness to me that spreads from my temples, to my limps and it makes me melt like ice cream on a midsummer day's night.

"You're freezing." he states.

My lips part as his thump soothes the petal skin of my jawline.

"Lemme make you warm. Lemme make up for before, yeah?" He said in that voice I couldn't resist. It's a low, gravelly tone. A tone filled with assurance and leverage.

And though I wanted to roll over and play sleep, I simply couldn't. With sluggish eyes and a parted mouth (due to his thumb playing with my bottom lip) I found myself nodding to Eddie's words.

As Eddie crawls on top of me, I combed my fingers through his thick dark curls. Eddie's the one to close the gap between our mouths.

The kiss begins with the utmost tenderness. It was long enough that I could inhale his breath, feel the warmness of his skin, and tasted the last thing that lingered on his lips (the celluloid guitar pick).

But, with the hunger of a starving man, Eddie deepens the kiss. I responded to him with a low mewl between the gnawing and the suckling.

When I feel Eddie's hand snake to where our cores met, I stopped him.

He hovers over me with concerning eyes, and red-bitten lips.

"Did I do something wron--"

"I want to ride you." I breathlessly say, earning another smirk from him and glint in his eyes.

In a swift motion, Eddie and I switched places, with him now being on the bottom while I was on top. Eddie rests his back on the metallic bars of my headboard. In this position, the moonlight peaking from my curtains had shined on his face, leaving me in the shadows.

I start to adjust myself by bunching the hem of my shirt around my waist; Eddie adjusts himself by lifting his weight to pull down his boxers, and that's when I feel it.

I feel the warmth that radiates from his cock to my wet slit. His tip nearly meshing with my clit.

Eddie's cock had had a slight curved mushroom shape to it with a hefty girth to it as well, with three large straining veins running along the side of it.

His reddening tip spewed drops of clear pre-cum that leaked down from his dick and to my thighs.

I gawked at his cock, with slightly parted lips.

Oh, how I yearned for Eddie to be inside of me all day. During my yearning, Eddie was on top. It occurred to me then that I'd never ridden Eddie before. Eddie is always the one to do the penetrating.

My eyes met with his, a devious look in his deep, earthy brown eyes.

"Sorry." I mutter.

Eddie looks at me with a condescending grin as I lift myself up by my knees. I give a few tugs to his cock, before aligning his length to my entrance.

I feel the supple wetness of my cunt drip down my thighs and onto the puddle of Eddie's pre-cum that resides there, as I inch him closer to me.

It was either the intimidation or excitement in my lower belly that lead me to stop.

"Can you help me?" I mumble.

"What?" Eddie says, cuffing his hand behind his ear. Whatta prick.

"You heard me." I said.

"I believe I didn't sweetheart, you were mumbling."

He knew for a fact he heard me; we were so close to one another that I could listen to the fluids swishing around in his belly. But for the sake of it,

"Can you help me?" I repeat, this time loud and clear.

"Ohh, that's what I thought you said." He decides to play dumb, desperation pulls on my face. "Thought you wanted to ride me, huh?"

"I do, but I'm scared it won't fit." I say.

"It fit all those other times." He rebuttals.

"But all those other times weren't like this." I stare deep into his eyes and poke out my bottom lip. "Please, just help me."

"Oh, don't cry sweets, you know I was gonna help ya, y'know." He tells me. "But first, take off your top fr'me."

I comply, watching him watch me take off my "Margaritaville" shirt and discarding it onto the floor.

Now completely bare, I feel my nipples start to pebble at the cool breeze of my apartment.

Eddie's mouth latches onto my left breast like a moth to a flame. I feel his hand give my right breast a firm squeeze. As his lips and tongue revolved around my sensitive buds, the tips of his curls tickled my chest.

"Eds." I gasp, bringing his head closer to my chest as if I were trying to feed him.

In the next moment, he spilled a few drops of saliva on my other nipple and flicked the newly wet nub, and started to suck on the puffy skin.

"Eds, baby, you're doing so good." I moan. Eddie hums in acknowledgment, concentrating on my left nipple like it was his guitar and notebook.

"But please, Eddie, I need you inside of me; I'm dripping here." I whine.

Eddie slowly detaches himself from my right nipple, a string of saliva connecting his lips from my nub. He looks down at the slickness that coats his and my thighs.

"Shit." he curses. He looks at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his, and a look of flattery on his face. "And I didn't even have to touch that little clit of yours to have you dripping like this."

"Eddie, please!"

"Alright, alright." He says. "By the way, y'know you're beautiful when you're all whiney and struggling on me."

Before I can rebuttal, I see Eddie gripping the thick base of his cock; as he brings his tip to my entrance, I bite on my bottom lip out of pure anticipation.

A faint sigh of relief died on our lips as Eddie melded inside me. I let out a shaky gasp at the sudden stretch. For a brief second, I sit on his cock, taking in his size, taking in his heat.

Involuntary, I clench around his girthy length as a response his cock throbs inside of me. I think if we knew morse code, our private parts could have a flirty conversation without each of us knowing; I giggle at this thought.

Eddie wraps his arms tightly around my waist "You got this mama." He pecks the skin of my collarbone.

With doe eyes I slowly nod my head, before slowly starting to grinding my hips onto his.

"That's it, baby, keep going." Eddie praises, looking up at me with such admiration. I start to quicken my pace, feeling my slick and clit coat his torso.

As Eddie's lips ravishes the dip of my neck, he breaths against my skin: "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now."

"Then do it." I say. "Fuck me."

And with the quick placement of his large hands groping the plush fat of my waist, Eddie starts to slam my body up and down on his cock in a bouncing motion.

I mewl at his relentless thrust. Groaning every time I feel his ridged cock dragging inside of my gummy walls, I whimper when I feel him graze my sweet-spot, only for him to draw himself back and slam right back into me.

The only sounds to fill the air was skin on skin, hard smacks coming from each time our bodies thrashed.

"Fuckin' shit." Eddie groans. "Look at my girl, taking me so well." Butterflies swarm inside of my belly.

I look down to where Eddie and I connected once again, I see the lips of my cunt touch the base of his cock and then back up to his tip. Eddie fingertips graze the meat of my ass, he gives my cheeks a tight squeeze.

My cup runneth over.

My eyes begin to flutter close. "M'close." I murmured against Eddie's lips. I was tottering on the edge of my climax.

Eddie switches from mercilessly slamming me unto his cock to grinding, rubbing me against him. With the palms of his hands splayed across my ass cheeks, he rubs me closer to him in fast, greedy motions.

"Eds, M'close!" I whine.

"Finish f'me, sweets." He says, voice hoarse like he was on the edge of his climax too.

It was the hoarseness in Eddie's voice, the bead of sweat sloping down the side of his face, and then the delicious feeling of his cock finally bumping into my sweet spot.

A plethora of moans escapes my lips. My back arches at the shockwaves of pleasure that ebbs and flows throughout my body. There's a ripple of orgasmic delight all over. My cunt starts clenching and unclenching around Eddie's cock.

Accompanied with the sounds of our skin slapping is the wet slick coming from my spent cunt.

Lazily, I collapsed into Eddie's chest and bury my face in the croak of his neck, giving him quick little pecks on the hot flesh--my body twitching every now and then.

Eddie still fucks into me.

"Almost there, sweets." he elongates. "You're so good to me." He kisses my cheek. "Always taking me so well in that little cunt of yours, always letting me use you, even when you're on top."

You would think Eddie was talking me through my orgasm, but he was talking him through his, I think his own praised turned him on twice as much.

I start to feel Eddie's cock spasm inside of me. I'm too spent to do anything but pull him tighter to me.

He pushes himself all the way in and stills himself. I feel his cock swell up, and in those two seconds of stillness I can feel just how large Eddie really is.

With each spurt of cum, Eddie's cock pulsates. I feel the warmth and pressure of his cum coating my cervix. With each spurt, Eddie lets out low (gravelly) groans.

Eddie kisses my forehead.

I lay on his chest, listening to the fast paced pumping of his heartbeat. My eyelids start to fall and I start to feel that post-coital weariness.

I try to move myself off of Eddie, but my sore and stiff hips and limps makes it hard.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks me as I try to move beside him.

"Eddie, I have to get off of you, we can't stay in this position all night." I say.

"Says who?"

And as I snuggled back into Eddie's lap, his semi-hard cock starting to soften inside my warm cunt, I told Eddie he was right.

Who said we couldn't stay enveloped in each other's warmth for the rest of the night? Two lovers wrapped around one another in a cold bed in the cold Luminary. With no money, dead-end jobs, a guitar in hand, and dreams not only of each other but dreams of making a difference someday.

Eddie didn't need to be famous to make a difference in people's lives when he'd already made a difference in mine, my beautiful boyfriend.

[sirhamburrger]

let them talk (akaashi x f!reader oneshot) "all i've ever known is how to hold my own and now i want to hold you." ~ hadestown (2006)

divider creds to @saradika-graphics

1.2k || tags/content warnings: royal au, princess!reader, royal advisor!akaashi, reader is bokuto's sister, forbidden romance (royal and a "commoner" fall in love blah blah blah), childhood friends to lovers, bokuroo (romantic) included and accompanying parental/societal homophobia, not beta read, please please tell me if there are any spelling or grammar errors

keiji is as calm and composed as ever as he shuts the door behind him. it feels as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders as you lock eyes with him, your body instantly relaxing. it doesn’t seem to take away the unease sitting in the pit of your stomach, though.

“you requested my presence, my lady?” he asks.

you beckon him over, patting the space next to you on your bed. the mattress dips under his weight, and you feel his eyes skating over your bare shoulders briefly before flicking back up to meet yours.

“would you help me lace up the back of my dress?” you ask.

he nods silently, his fingers deftly pulling, tying, tightening. it’s done in a matter of seconds, and he examines his work one last time before shaking his head and undoing it all. you chuckle at the perfectionist in him—it’s always been a big part of who he is.

“not to complain, my lady, not at all,” he says dryly, “but i’m sure your maids would be much more competent at this than i could ever be.”

“yes, well…” you hesitate for a moment. “i don’t particularly want to see anyone except you right now.”

“oh? and why’s that?” he asks.

you wring your hands. “i’m nervous, keiji,” you admit. “i know, it’s weird. the crown princess of a prosperous kingdom, worried about appearing at her own birthday celebration? but, really…”

despite the grandeur of the festivities, there’s no hiding that they serve only one purpose: to find you a suitable partner before your coronation. your older sisters were married off to the lords and princes of neighboring kingdoms. your brother kotaro has plans to abdicate because the people would rather die than accept his male suitor. it can’t be helped—you’re the youngest of four royal children, yet first in line to the throne. the fact of the matter sits heavy in the atmosphere between the two of you.

you feel keiji still behind you, his hands entangled in the lace of your dress.

“there are many good noblemen and royals waiting for you downstairs,” he murmurs lowly. “prince tooru oikawa, lord ushijima—”

“i don’t want to talk about them right now,” you say tightly.

“what do you want to talk about, then?” he’s tense, uncharacteristically so, as the warmth of his breath washes over your skin.

“will you walk downstairs with me, love? hold my hand?” you ask softly.

the room is silent. you predict he’ll say no, remind you he is in no position to be seen with you. to everyone else, he is merely an advisor—your advisor. he is not worthy.

“please,” you persist. “or is it too much to show you are enamored by me?”

he turns away. you faintly register that your dress is laced up perfectly, and your heart aches.

“what good would it do the kingdom? if they see the crown princess with her advisor… what would happen, then?” he’s standing now, pacing quickly around the room. “the people want a royal suitor of noble blood. an heir of noble blood. you must give them what they want.”

and so your prediction has come true. disdain for bone-old convention bubbles in your gut.

“i am not just the next ruler, keiji. i am the last resort. i am the failsafe, the backup, the contingency plan.” you turn to him, sure you must look positively wild-eyed now. “i will do however i please, and the people will have to accept it. this is my decree as crown princess.”

the words are freeing as they come out of your mouth.

keiji hasn’t changed since you two were nine. deep gunmetal blue eyes. the crease between his eyebrows that makes him look older than he is. and his inability to refuse you. without a twinge of regret, you take full advantage of it.

“you would not have me married off to a man i despise, would you?” you ask.

“they will not have it,” he tries desperately, one final time. “they will talk.”

“so let them talk.”

keiji freezes, his hand clenching the edge of your bedpost as his composure falters. for a moment, you glimpse the man beneath the stoic mask—the one who has always been by your side, loyal to a fault.

“they’ll do more than talk,” he says hoarsely. “there will be whispers of scandal, unrest. a kingdom is not so easily swayed by declarations of the heart.”

your gaze softens. “and yet, a kingdom is not so easily broken by them either. the people will adjust, keiji. they always do.”

he shakes his head, his lips pressed into a grim line. “it’s not that simple, darling. you deserve stability. you deserve someone who can give you everything—a title, alliances, heirs of unquestionable lineage. what can i give you?”

“yourself,” you say simply, slowly. “that is enough for me. that has always been enough.”

for the first time in years, keiji looks truly vulnerable. his eyes search yours, as if seeking proof of your sincerity. you reach out, placing a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“keiji, you are so much more to me than an advisor,” you choke out, your voice trembling slightly. “if the crown demands that i marry, then i will—on my terms. not for alliances or politics, but for love.”

the word hangs in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. you see the crack in his resolve widen, his shoulders sagging under the weight of emotions he’s tried so hard to bury. he steps closer, his hands trembling as they hover near yours.

“and if the people don’t accept it?” he whispers.

“then i will remind them who their queen is,” you reply fiercely. “i will rule with or without their approval, but i will not rule without my heart.”

keiji exhales sharply, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. he closes his eyes, as if steeling himself for the plunge, before taking your hands in his.

“then i will stand by you,” he says at last, his voice low but steady. “as i always have. as i always will.”

relief floods through you, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press your forehead to his. for a moment, the world outside fades away—the expectations, the judgment, the weight of your shared duty.

“walk with me,” you murmur again, your lips brushing against his temple. “please.”

keiji nods, his grip on your hands tightening as if drawing strength from you. together, you step toward the door, your heart thundering in your chest.

when you descend the grand staircase, hand in hand, the room falls into a stunned silence. every noble, lord, and prince turns to watch as you make your entrance—not with a royal suitor, but with the man you chose. your father’s jaw drops. kotaro and his betrothed, tetsuro, smile warmly at the sight. they’ve always known, somehow, that this is how it was meant to end.

keiji glances at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and awe. you squeeze his hand reassuringly, lifting your chin as you meet the curious, scandalized stares of the court.

and you find that you don’t care what they might think, not a single bit.

a/n: just could not wait to post this aughhhhhh!!! he's going to have two birthday oneshots ig 🤷‍♀️ blame my impatient self

haikyuu masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[loveisunison]

Your f/o would help you with your debilitating social anxiety, by the way <3

Too scared to cook because there are people around? They'll make food for you and bring it to your room! Too scared to make a phone call because others might hear? They'll make some white noise to help hide your voice! Too scared to go to the bathroom because you'll have to interact with others on your way there? They'll come with you and wait outside so they can accompany you back <3

If you're feeling ashamed or overwhelmed by how bad your social anxiety is, or because you can't do things that should be "easy" — your f/o knows, and they're so proud of you for trying so hard!

Your f/o will never think you're being dramatic, your f/o will never think you should "just do it" or "ignore your fear". Your f/o understands how hard it is for you and they will never judge you for it.

[foreveric]

joel miller x daughter!reader — grumpy dad headcanons.

you're crazy if you think that he will let you go out on patrol without ellie or tommy, or at least with someone who he trusted with you. of course, he's paranoid about losing his only chance at redeeming himself as a father; so he's not going to take any risks at losing it.

if a clicker even comes remotely close to you, he will snap and take it down in the blink of an eye. half of the time, you didn't even have a chance to recognize that there was a clicker nearby.

although it doesn't happen much with him around, there have been some times when you have gotten hurt. whenever you were hurt or injured, he would always take the time to care for you delicately, like you were the most precious flower.

he hates to see you cry, no matter what the reason may be. it brings him back to sarah's cries, and he'll do anything in his power to comfort you and calm you back down.

when you're old enough to start dating, you'll have to sneak around late at night while he is sleeping. you'll also have to sneak around ellie and tommy until you're clear from the jackson grounds. but, of course, he'd find out about it later on; and he wouldn't be too pleased about the fact that you hid that you were dating someone.

[bloofuskazoo]

WILT

These are for the Wilt fans!

divider creds: @/saradika-graphics.

[omori-archive]

Sunnflower shipping collage ☀️🌻

divider creds to saradika-graphics and roseschoices

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown'| Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Six

[photo cred: me | dividers by: @/saradika-graphics]

tags: Medieval/Middle Ages-ish AU, lots of fluff, some past family hurts / a sprinkle of angst, everyone is healing slowly, domesticity, moving and future planning

w/c: 1.4k

a/n: no spice, mainly driven by the apartment and job hunting i've started doing this past month or so. holy shit life's been a bitch and this has taken me a month and some change to write, but i wrote it anyways. hope y'all enjoy (i'm gonna go study for my last exam of the season)

Chap 1. | Chap 2. | Chap 3. | Chap 4. | Chap 5. || AO3

“He moved away,” you remembered Simon telling you, “right after the old man passed. Tommy took his wife and little Joseph and left a few hours later. They’d been plannin’ the move for ages, ever since our father got ill, but they never told me. Woke up the next day and…they were gone. Thought they’d gone to the lake a few miles east, so I checked there but no one had seen ‘em. Tavern wasn’t open, the inn’s ledger didn’t have their names or Tommy’s pseudonym. A week later, I got a letter from ‘im. Livin’ close to London, new life and no specters loomin’ over them. Joseph was sleepin’ well, Beth could finally relax her shoulders, and Tommy’d taken up apprenticin’ with a blacksmith like he’d always wanted to do. No invitation to join ‘em, to even visit ‘em. Haven’t seen ‘em since—Joseph’s probably…he’s probably a man now, nearly twenty? Wouldn’t recognize me even if I had a sign around my neck listin’ our memories together.”

You watched as Simon brought the last of his clothes to the wash basin you were bent over. He’d decided that all linens from the larger bedroom needed to be washed thoroughly before they even caught a glimpse of your bedroom—which was now his, too. Every time he walked out of the old room, he wore a grimace and shuddered as if something cold passed through him. The specters of his past did, you supposed. Even you couldn’t enter the main bedroom without feeling a crushing weight on your shoulders.

Though he didn’t bring it up, you knew he was wondering if you’d given thought to moving out of the cabin and into town. To your credit, you were thinking about it, perhaps too much. How much it would cost, the physical and emotional labor of the move, and the changes to routines it would bring kept you awake at night and distracted you while you cleaned. You had a lovely scar forming on your palm from when your thoughts wandered too far while you were slicing apples to have with dessert.

You knew you wanted to move, for him mainly. You wanted the man you loved—even if you hadn’t said it outright yet—to sleep through the night and be unburdened. But there was information you needed, the security of knowing there was a solid plan and a handful of contingencies to support it, before you could jump into something so large. So, when he sat across the wash basin from you to sort through the sopping heap of clean clothes, you told him as much. He listened well, something you loved about him, and agreed with you on everything but the timing. Sooner, rather than later, was the request he firmly refused to change. You made it perfectly clear to him that if he wanted to live somewhere else soon, there could be no buying of the first available house. That the ‘somewhere else’ couldn’t be rundown or have suspicious airs about it. That earned a laugh from him that had your skin warming and your heart clenching.

“Price and ‘is wife have offered me a position at their tavern when we find a house we like. I’d be workin’ nights, mainly keepin’ an eye on patrons and stoppin’ any fights, and it would give me time during the day to set up the house,” Simon told you as he climbed into bed, freshly bathed and thoroughly exhausted from his day of looking at the few available homes in town.

You rolled to face him. Guilt lingered in your mind, he’d been doing all the looking while you tended to your patients and worked on packing things in the cabin for the eventual move. No matter how many times he told you to not feel guilt, your mind did the opposite and piled more of the sickening feeling on you. “And have you found a house?”

“There’s one I’m keen on. Two streets down from that bakery ya love and close enough to the town square that runnin’ to market or goin’ to see your patients won’t be a hike-and-a-half.” He traced your cheek with the back of his finger. “When ya go on your rounds tomorrow, I’ll come with. We can see it together, maybe see some others.”

“And there’s no issue with cost?”

That lop-sided grin that fixed the world even on the worst of days appeared. “My love,” Simon gave the tip of your nose a peck, “money’ll never be an issue for us. My father was many things—many horrible things—but one of the few positives about him was his money sense. He made a big show about gamblin’, drinkin’, whorin’ even, but he saved where he could—where it counted. The only thing I got from him that I like is that.”

“It’s a good trait.” You rolled the rest of the way, lying mostly on top of him. These days his body was always warm, and the harder edges were softening here and there. “Your warmth is another one. No fire could compare to this comfort.”

He hummed and began trailing the tips of his fingers along your spine. The sweet touch sent pleasant shivers throughout your body and you snuggled into him further. “You’re the cause of my warmth. Feedin’ me all that good food, makin’ sure I always have enough. I like it.”

You gave a simple ‘mhm’ and let your eyes fall shut. Simon only woke up once that night from a bad dream and, when he managed to bring himself fully into reality, fell asleep quickly to your musing about a possible life in town. He was healing, on his own and with your help. He showed you it was possible even if it wasn’t easy.

Just the outside appearance of the house he was keen on showed you why. Dark stone and wood exterior with textured glass windows and pretty shutters. The front door was heavy and the locks were new—Simon cited that as one of his favorite things since it meant you were more likely to be safe if someone tried to intrude. You had no complaints about the first floor, save for the dust but it wouldn’t take you more than half a day to get rid of it with Simon’s help.

The kitchen was spacious and the larder was nearly twice the size of one in the cabin. There was a proper dining room, too, and you couldn’t help but imagine all the meals and conversations that would be possible. Hosting Simon’s friends, the few apprentice midwives, even your siblings and their newish families, would be easy in terms of space. There’d be no need to worry about people nearly sitting on top of others or feeling crowded and uncomfortable.

Your favorite room, so far, was the parlor. It had a large fireplace, room for more than just an arm chair and modest settee. The walls had enough room for bookshelves and a trunk or two full of your knitting and embroidery materials. Given all the room, you’d be able to teach Simon a simple dance or two to do at festivals and there’d be plenty of room for your nieces and nephews to run around and cause havoc. The upstairs was nice, too, and spacious as well. Three bedrooms, one of which could be made into a study or some kind of workshop while. The second largest bedroom would be reserved for guests and if your sleep schedule fell out of line with Simon’s.

Muscled arms wrapped around you, tugging you back against Simon’s front and away from all your planning. “Like it?” he asked.

“Mhm. It’s pretty, nice location in town like you mentioned, and it doesn’t seem like it would be a nightmare to keep clean if we both tackle the chores like we’ve been doing,” you said. “I think we should make it ours.”

He dragged you towards the front door, throwing it up and holding you tightly in the doorway. Neither of you seemed to care much that a few people stopped to see the sight as Simon pressed his lips sweetly and softly to yours, a blessing of sorts for the future. By the end of the week, you and Simon were proud new owners of a beautiful home and a truly brand new start.

[nerdog]

papyrus (undertale) themed pixels, dividers and blinkies, f2u but ♡ + ↻ ‘s are heavily appreciated

skull divider by @saradika-graphics !

not sure the creds to the rest of these so sorry :( if anyone can find any send me a dm/ask!

id / me / kin / f/o tags always fine

[house-of-caraleya]

A Day at The Burrow | GARRETH W.

summary： a weasley morning with your husband and children. pairings： garreth weasley x f! reader warnings： none, just magical family fluff wordcount： 1.2k author’s note： probably innacurate in some parts, especially with the burrow. i’ve no clue who built it but we’ll pretend it was our garreth :p. creds: dividers: @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics // request: this post // picture: this post on pinterest

The sunlight streamed softly through the window, spilling over the old oak floorboards of the Weasley household, a little cabin on the green outskirts of Devonshire that the six of you lovingly called home.

You sighed contentedly, savouring the warmth of the morning as the quiet hum of the house reached your ears.

Garreth was up—he was always the first to rise, even before the birds outside started singing. It was just his way. And you, still half-asleep, could already hear the faint sound of pans clattering in the kitchen, interspersed with the familiar hum of Garreth’s voice, trying to herd the kids toward breakfast.

The house had a comfortable, lived-in feel, with mismatched furniture and the soft scent of toast and herbs in the air. It was a far cry from the grand halls of Hogwarts you and Garreth knew many years ago, but it was perfect for your family.

A home filled with warmth, laughter, and magic—just the way Garreth always dreamed it would be.

You stretched lazily, then swung your legs out of bed. The sounds of chaos from downstairs made you smile as you padded softly toward the kitchen. You had four children now—three daughters and one son—and mornings in the Weasley house were never quiet.

The familiar hum of their voices, overlapping in excited chatter, greeted you before you even entered the room.

“Annie! Don’t you dare mess with my things!” came a loud voice from one of the chairs around the table. It beloged to Lily-Anne, your eldest daughter, who at eight years old was already an expert at sounding outraged without really being angry.

“Relax, I was just looking!” Annie retorted, her words fast and full of mischief. At six years old, Annabelle was the family’s little adventurer—always poking around, testing spells, and getting into trouble.

“You’ve been looking at my things for hours,” Lily-Anne snapped back, sounding every bit like a miniature Garreth.

Garreth, who was having dishes washed by themselves while stirring something at the stove, laughed quietly to himself, not even bothering to intervene—he knew better by now. He was accustomed to the banter between his two oldest girls.

“Lillie, sweetie, give your sister some space,” he said, his voice a mix of fondness and exhaustion. “Annie, don’t make me send you to bed early tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I wasn’t even going to do anything with them,” Annie said, though the sly grin on her face made it clear she was up to something. She always had that look when she was planning her next ‘adventure.’

As you stepped into the kitchen, your youngest daughter, Winifred, nicknamed Winnie, was the first to spot you. “Mummy!” she squealed, her short ginger curls bouncing with excitement. She scampered over to you, her arms outstretched. “I made pancakes!” she announced, proudly holding up a small, slightly misshapen pancake, which she’d more than likely stolen from Garreth’s stack.

“Did you now?” you asked, bending down to kiss the top of her head, taking the pancake from her with a grin. “This looks amazing, darling.”

“Not as good as Daddy’s!” Winifred said, eyes wide with admiration. You turned your gaze toward Garreth, who was now flipping a much more professional-looking stack of pancakes onto the table.

“Alright, alright, I’ll take it from here,” Garreth said with a wink as he set the spatula down.

He turned to you and added in a quieter voice, “She insists she’s a pro chef already. I think we’ve got a little cook on our hands.”

You chuckled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Then I believe you’ve got some competition, my love.”

“I’m okay with it,” Garreth said, his voice warm and humorous, and full of pride. “She’s clearly already better at it than I was at her age.”

“Annie!” came a new voice, followed by the tell-tale sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Finn, your four-year-old son, had clearly entered the fray. “You can’t do magic like that! Mum and Dad said no!”

Annie turned around, hands on her hips. “I wasn’t doing magic, Finn. I was simply pretending. It’s not even a real wand,” she said, a mock pout on her face.

“Pretending or not, stop doing that near my things!” Finnick spoke, stomping his little foot in exaggerated annoyance.

At this point, you couldn’t help but laugh. Finnick was a fiery little boy—very much like Garreth, though he had your stubbornness. 'Spellcasting' was his favourite pastime.

He wasn’t allowed to use magic yet, not until he turned eleven, but that didn’t stop him from pretending to perform spells.

Most of the time, he used his broomstick—his favourite toy, which was already showing signs of wear and tear from the countless imaginative Quidditch games he played in the garden, which Garreth would sometimes join in with.

“Alright, alright, enough with the magic-ing, everyone!” Garreth said, his voice good-natured but firm as he set the pancakes on the table. “We’ve got to eat before these poor pancakes turn to bricks.”

You sat down beside Garreth, helping Winifred into her seat next to you, while Annabelle, Finnick, and Lily-Anne scrambled for their places at the table. The moment your eldest daughter, Annie, slid into her seat, she immediately reached for the jar of jam, her eyes wide with determination.

“Lillie,” Garreth said, a chuckle in his voice, “we’ll get to the jam in a minute. First, let’s all eat something before your sisters get their hands on it.”

“I’m going to be the first one to finish my pancakes,” Lillie announced, her voice full of confidence.

“Not if I can help it!” Annie challenged, reaching for her fork, and starting to eat at an almost competitive speed.

Meanwhile, Winifred, still entranced by her stuffed dragon, began feeding her pancake to it, making sure it had its own little plate of syrup. Garreth leaned over to you, eyes twinkling. “If it weren’t for her, we might've had a spat over this food.”

“I’m pretty sure we already do,” you said with a laugh, watching as Lillie, Annie, and Finn began bickering over who would finish first.

The rest of breakfast was a beautiful mess—garbled conversations about dragons and broomsticks, Winnie insisting that Puff the Dragon could only eat pancakes with syrup, Annie and Finn arguing about the best Quidditch teams (despite neither of them actually knowing what a real match looked like), and Garreth trying to keep it all together with good-natured laughter.

“Alright, alright, let’s get cleaned up before it’s time to head outside,” Garreth said, after a few minutes of pancakes, syrup, and chaos. “We can’t have another broom incident like yesterday, can we?” He raised an eyebrow, though his tone was gentle.

“Maybe just one more race, Daddy,” Finn pleaded, his eyes big and innocent. “Just one.”

“Alright, one race,” Garreth said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But that’s it.”

You shook your head affectionately, your heart swelling with love as you looked at the family around you—your four rambunctious, wonderful children and your impossibly charming, endlessly patient husband. The day was just beginning, and already it was filled with more laughter, noise, and love than you could have ever imagined.

It was a good day. A very good day. And with Garreth by your side, you knew it would always be.

apologies for any mistakes i may have made, whether in timeline or the language! thank you so much for reading! i was super nervous about this, i don’t usually write much for garreth, but i hope i captured him as best as i could :,) likes, comments, reblogs and (constructive) criticisms are always much appreciated! 💗

[a-snake-makes-moodboards]

Lautski (Stephanie Lauter x Peter Spankoffski) from Nerdy Prudes Must Die moodboard with ocean inspo

requested by: no one, self-indulgent

x x x x x x x x x

[divider creds: @saradika-graphics]

(images not credited were found on Google images)

song to go with it: 'mist' by lmnl

Reblogs are appreciated, requests are open!!