#for people so woke some are really blind to the same things being done

[aszles]

since my first pinned post had a tierlist of csm characters, i decided to redo it as a tierlist of Fujimoto works instead! (i had only read csm when i made this sideblog) it's a lot less ever-changing so i feel a bit safer keeping something like this at the top of my blog lol...

within the tiers there is no specific order, they're just the things i happened to put in first. if you wanna make one here's the template! (made by yours truly)

because i'm a nerd you can read my opinions about each work below the cut~

S TIER

Chainsaw Man - i mean, csm is just awesome. in all honesty, this manga has changed my life. i KNOW that sounds silly and corny but it's genuinely true. i have been able to get past a lot of my struggles and develop so much as a person since starting this manga. as a fun bonus i feel like i've finally started improving my art again (or at least changing it enough to feel fresh) after like 3 years. i can't really describe how much csm has done for me, but if i had told myself from 2021 that this would happen i would never believe it (especially because i had written off this series for some personal reasons...lol) but yeah. i think i'll forever be grateful for what Chainsaw Man has done for me.

Look Back - i think Look Back is seriously the best piece of media i have ever experienced. i don't think i have ever seen a story so beautifully crafted as this manga, it made me sob when i read it. i remember having to move the manga away from myself so i wouldn't get tears on it. at the time of writing this i am SO SO excited to watch the movie, whenever that will be. i will cry and throw up watching that thing LOL.

Nayuta of the Prophecy - ok maybe i don't TECHNICALLY believe this is an S tier work, but Nayuta is just such a lovable character that i can't possibly rank her any lower. Fujimoto was right to adapt her into csm because she deserves it!! however despite that, this oneshot is the only one that i genuinely wish he would make a sequel to. i think oneshot Nayuta and csm Nayuta are pretty different, so they still don't feel like the same character - i would love to see oneshot Nayuta's personality and relationship with her brother continue to develop!

A TIER

Sisters - one of the few other works i had heard anything about before i started exploring Fujimoto's other stuff, and i definitely felt apprehensive about it. but wow, the fact that Fujimoto is able to take the concept of "girl non-consensually paints her sister naked and it gets displayed on the school wall for everyone to see" and NOT make it weird is crazy! a sweet oneshot that i enjoyed, and love the nuance that was able to be created in such a short amount of time.

Woke-Up-as-a-Girl Syndrome - a really cute take on a silly trope that can often be handled... oddly. i love how much the characters in this really feel like teenagers, doing stupid things but being completely earnest all the while. (Spoilers) i really like how it ends with Toshihide being adamant that he is still male, and also Rie still loving him as he is. very sweet!

Love is Blind - it's no wonder Fujimoto won an honourable mention for this, it's such an adorable and funny oneshot. i was giggling the whole time reading it! i don't really have much to say about it, but i definitely enjoyed it.

Fire Punch - i don't really know where to start with Fire Punch, but wow. it is seriously so impressive to me how good Fujimoto is at tackling such sensitive topics, not shying away from them while also clearly not glorifying them. i also think a big place where Fire Punch shines is character relationships, especially Agni and Togata. they fucked me UPPPPP. it goes off the rails a bit near the end, but i also never got the feeling that it WASN'T what Fujimoto intended with this series. i may not quite get the ending, but it didn't ruin anything for me and i think the rest of Fire Punch is really good at what it does. plus the art is AWESOME ?????

B TIER

Goodbye, Eri - ohhh people might not like me for this one... i'm sorry guys, i just honestly didn't get this manga. i'll definitely reread in the future (me and my sister still haven't finished our sticky notes to read it blurry/clear) but for now i can't rank it any higher. i didn't feel much reading it, and the ending definitely confused me a lot lol. love the art though!

Shikaku - this one's interesting! i thought the story was quite cute, and Shikaku herself is completely adorable. though Yugeru is ummm... not my type let's say. i also do wonder if Makima took any inspiration from Shikaku - she looks similar to her, which to be fair for Fujimoto works probably doesn't mean much (as a lot of his character's look similar to each other /pos), but a clearer comparison is both characters presenting eyeballs they stole from people. (also... if Makima is inspired by Shikaku, is Barem then inspired by Yugeru? yuck) anyways just my speculation, back to the point. the reason this doesn't make its way into A tier is because to me it doesn't really feel like a Fujimoto work? i'm not sure why, but yeah.

C TIER

Mermaid Rhapsody - this one's definitely cute, but as a result of Fujimoto trying to create a "normal story" it unfortunately loses all of the charm of Fujimoto works!! i want it to be weird and fucked up damnit!!!!! though he did succeed in his goal of creating a normal story, so i can't complain too much lol.

Sasaki Stopped a Bullet - i don't have anything against this oneshot, but i think it just doesn't particularly appeal to me. unfortunately nothing in this story grabbed me

D TIER

A Couple Clucking Chickens Were Still Kickin' in the Schoolyard - it's no real surprise this is here, considering it's Fujimoto's first work. overall it was pretty cute, but i'm not all that into aliens..? not much to say lol

if you read all this then thank you >_o

[hannahssimblr]

I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.

That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find. 

It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her. 

“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.  

She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. Are you drunk?”

“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too. 

“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”

I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”

“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was the worst.”

“Not always.”

“...It's hard being on my own.”

“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”

I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.

“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”

“I dunno.”

“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”

That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”

“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”

“Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”

“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.

“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully. 

“No, like, that I heard you.”

“I think we’re supposed to be together.” 

I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under. 

“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

A sniffle, “No?”

“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”

She sobs gently.

“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”

My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.

In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.

Hey.

I type.

I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[industriallyinsecure]

Sorry for another "reader is awake at like 3 am request" but this one's a lil more wholesome xD what would each la squadra member be like if they found their s/o wrapped in blankets on the couch watching comfort movies late at night? Who's all for a sudden movie night date? Who's dragging the reader back to bed no matter what it takes?

Risotto plods down stairs in search of you (he woke up because his human teddy bear wasn’t there) and finds you curled up in blankets, watching one of your favorite movies very intently. So intently, in fact, you don’t even notice him approaching, though not many people would anyway. You yelp when he plops down next to you, pulling you into his arms. He dozes for most of the movie, only reacting if you get startled or start to laugh. Overall, he’s nice company to have, but don’t expect him to interact very much. He’s had a history of not sleeping well, and you’re essentially the only remedy. If you try to get him to talk, he just mumbles sleepily and gives you kisses.

Ghiaccio would drag you back to bed regardless of how tired (and blind) he is. He’s a firm believer in getting a healthy 8 hours, and you’d be hard pressed to convince him otherwise. And because he cares about you, he wants the same for you. He’s just really really bad at expressing it. Because it’s so late (early?) he won’t raise his voice but instead gives very threatening grumbles as he shuts the tv off and pulls you behind him. Doesn’t really want to fight you about it, and won’t feel bad for pulling you away.

Melone is probably awake already to tell the truth. He’s heading to the kitchen for a late night drink, but finds you curled up watching a movie. He’ll coo about it to himself before joining you, snuggling as close as possible to you. Offers to get you snacks and drinks, or even to find another movie to watch after you’re done. He thinks it’s very romantic that you two are night owls and can stay up together, even if you sleep the day away. As long as he’s with you, he doesn’t mind.

It depends how moody Proscuitto is at the moment. If he’s gotten enough rest, he doesn’t mind staying up, but still lightly frets over you and scolds you a bit. But he does remind you to rest and tries to not so subtly convince you to come back to bed once the movie is over. If he’s tired and grumpy, there’s no question about you being dragged back to bed. He doesn’t even say anything to you, just snatches the remote up and turns the tv off, ushering you back to his room. It’s under the guise of him wanting you to be healthy, but really it’s because he’s selfish and has gotten used to you sleeping in the same bed and gets a bit anxious if you aren’t with him.

Pesci would want you to go to bed for your health but gives in to you way too easily. He just loves you so much that he has a hard time saying no. Even if you decide to go back to bed, he’ll gently insist that you don’t have to just because he wants to. If you end up staying up, he might fall asleep cuddling with you, but that’s only if you aren’t engaging him in some way. Offers to get you things and dotes on you the whole time until you both inevitably fall asleep together on the couch.

Illuso would bitch at you for keeping him awake, but would sit down next to you and watch. In truth, he doesn’t mind staying awake to spend more time with you, but he’s be damned if he had to admit it. He would whine and cry about missing beauty sleep the entire time while making no moves to get up and go to bed. But if he decides he wants to sleep, you better be ready to put up a fight. He’s not above taking you into the mirror world.

Formaggio sleeps like the dead, so it’s difficult for him to wake up during the night if he’s already been sleeping. Usually when he finds you awake at night it’s because he was out clubbing, not that you minded of course. He can only stay up for so much longer until he passes out in your lap and starts to snore. Depending on how much his snoring bothers you, you can either shut off the movie and cuddle up with him, or suffer through it. Either way, he’s pretty content.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Coleman Hughes on the Politics of Race | Real Time with Bill Maher

Bill Maher: So, what's the difference, where do we draw the line here? Fighting racism and your book is fighting the politics of ra-- -Talking about the politics.

Coleman Hughes: Right.

Maher: What's the difference between fighting racism and the politics of racism?

Hughes: Right. So, racism as defined by Martin Luther King, the Civil Rights Movement, judging people on the basis of their race, rather than their character and so forth. That's not what my book is-- is against, uh, fighting. Obviously, we should all fight that. No matter who it's directed at.

What my book is fighting is this ideology that really was born with critical race theory, the adult version of critical race theory in the '70s and '80s and became more popular over the past ten years. That equates Whiteness with evil, equates Blackness with a kind of moral superiority. Stereotypes whole groups of people, says that your race is an essential part of who you are and feels even that children need to be taught this from as young an age as possible because they're-- they're born with the wrong attitude about race and it needs to be sort of hammered out of them, by separating White kids from Black kids, from Hispanic kids. Putting them in different corners of the room, as was done in my Columbia University orientation, some nine years ago. And that the way we're going to get to, you know, the kind of society we want is by focusing more and more on racial identity.

In my book I say, this is nonsense, this is totally against the spirit of-- of the Civil Rights Movement and that actually, the wise principle is that we should try to treat people without regard to race both in our personal lives and in public policy.

Maher: Funny, I mean… that wouldn't have been controversial with any liberal, 30 or 40, 50 years ago. I mean, that is what Martin Luther King said. What-- what color blind society, I mean, I thought we were all after that and then we all weren't, and what changed?

Hughes: Yeah, so, even 20 years ago, it wouldn't have been controversial. I grew up in a liberal town, Montclair, New Jersey, many people probably know it. Diverse town, where, you know, we celebrated Martin Luther King every year, we listened to the famous speech and got goosebumps, as most Americans do and really believed that, uh, and I lived out that dream, in other words, I had friends of every race as a kid and I didn't think of them as belonging to a race, I thought of them by their name and their attributes, right? Around--

Maher: They treated the same way?

Hughes: Yeah. For the most part. Yeah, I mean, there are exceptions, but the exceptions prove the overwhelming rule. So, you know before 2013, you can just look at polling data from Gallup and Pew. The majority of Americans, Black, White and Hispanic believed race relations were good, as late as 2013. And that's the year everything takes a nosedive, so that by 2021, half as many people thought we were in a good place, as thought that in 2013.

So, the question is what happened? Did racism suddenly spike? Well, no, the data is pretty clear on that, racism didn't spike, what happened is that, we all got smartphones and social media, and started seeing unrepresentative video clips of cops, you know, harassing or beating or killing Black Americans and this gave people the misperception that racism was suddenly this widespread problem and it touched off all of these trends that we've now heard about for the past eight years, under various names, wokeness, CRT, DEI, it's all fundamentally from that core change and how information is being shared.

Maher: But there was part of that was good, that we did see these beatings and things go on, because that's what changed it.

Hughes: The one thing I can say is good about it, is before the Black Lives Matter movement in 2013, cops could basically do whatever and not get punished.

Maher: Right.

Hughes: You could, I mean-- it's hard to find even a single example. Uh, you can find isolated ones but mostly cops got away with whatever. So, that's no longer the case and that's the one thing I could credit.

Maher: And they go to jail.

Hughes: Yeah. I mean it-- But on the other hand, it has not-- many people think it just revealed all the racism that's actually out there, that's not true, because if that were true, people would have an accurate assessment, and this has been tested. When you ask very liberal Americans, "How many unarmed Black people do you think are shot by the cops every year?" The answer they gave in 2019 was a thousand, the real number from that year was 12. So, this social media algorithmically boosted content has-- it's not educating us, it's miseducating us.

--

[redwayfarers]

one of those days

Fandom: Wayfarer IF Ship: Cassmel (Cassander x Melchior) Characters: Cassander Inteus (OC), Melchior Larkspur Words: 1084 Rating: Gen Summary: Cassander has a bad mental health day. Fortunately, he doesn't have to face it alone. Read on AO3

The day drags like nobody’s fucking business. It’s real fun having nothing to do with your time, you know - the half open book stares at me in accusation from the table, half done weave shakes its threads in disappointment. I told myself I’d finish it today, but when I woke up I found that my hands just refused to do it and would’ve rather broken the whole thing apart than finish it. The book could’ve easily met the same fate if I didn’t have enough wherewithal to just step back and declare myself useless for the day. 

But cooking needs to be done. It’s not a question of want as much as it is a question of need, after all. We all need to eat. If you don’t eat you starve. And since I don’t particularly like starving, I managed to drag myself to the kitchen and listen to the chop chop of the knife. There are downsides, though, as there usually are. Chop chop is so routine that I could do it blind, so the part of my head that’s not focused on making sure I don’t cut my own fingers off is free to wonder.

And gods do I wonder. I’ve since stopped keeping track of what about, but that’s where I am now.

Theokleia came to mind at some point, unbidden. Maybe after the brief sighting of my face in the window. Maybe after the errant curl of hair fell in my eyes and I had to move it away. She wouldn’t cook, obviously. She has people to cook for her. She has fancy makeup and hairpins and decorative battle knives on her walls. And maybe she’s laughing now, having a grand old time, drinking at a party and whispering in another rich asshole’s ear. 

Maybe Aiantes listens too. Does she keep the hairpin he gifted her decades ago, before my very eyes, when all I got was a stern look to shut the fuck up? Maybe she wears it across the hall, and maybe he smiles when he sees it shining in the magic lights. Maybe he even removes it later in the privacy of their bedroom. 

Maybe I don’t really wanna think about my parents fucking, exactly. Brain, stop being weird.

“You’re murdering that poor eggplant,” Melchior says out of nowhere. “What has it done to you?” 

I turn around and set the knife down. “My parents have sex. In general. In Vestra, too. I know the exact bedroom. Big bed, fancy ass curtains. Roses on the sheets. The mwah mwah sounds. All the good stuff.” 

“Your… parents?” Melchior blinks. “Cassander, you have three siblings. It’s highly likely that they do have sex. Assuming nothing’s taking the place of that poor vegetable.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a really simple thing, too. And my parents are doing it.” 

“And here it’s where you lose me,” he says slowly. He has two big books of accounts in his hands and he looks so disheveled it makes me want to mess his hair up even more. “What do…” He sighs. “It’s been that kind of day, no?” 

I laugh weakly. “Yeah. My brain's all weird. One thing led to another and here I am, mentally in my parents’ bedroom. Where I wasn’t normally allowed when I was a kid, too, even in non-fucking circumstances.” I look at my feet and wiggle my toes. “I am… I just..” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is kind and gentle and it hits like cold water in a parched throat. He puts the books down and walks over, takes my hand in his and the world feels less loathsome all of a sudden. 

“I don’t want to be angry anymore.” There it is. I’m getting better at figuring these things out. What a strange idea, actually understanding what’s behind all the weirdness in my head on a given day. “Don’t think there’s much to talk about. I just– I don’t want to think about my mother. But she comes unbidden sometimes, she’s a fucking weed of a person like that, and I get all– like this. Gods, I’m so shit at saying things.” 

“I understand you perfectly well, if that has any merit,” he offers. “You’re not half as bad at saying things as you think you are.”

“You don’t count,” I say. It feels as though a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders, though. “You’re just trying to make me feel better by saying that. It doesn’t count.” 

“Is it working, though?” He smiles softly. I bury my head in his shoulder. 

“I hate you so much,” I whisper against the fabric of his shirt. He’s still holding my hand. “But seriously now. Were you.. Did you have any plans for.. This exact moment?” 

“I was just about to get myself a cup of tea,” he says and kisses the side of my head. His hair tickles my ear. “Do you want me to prevent any more vegetable murder?” 

“That’d be great. We gotta eat something and I’m the big bad vegetable murderer, as we both know.” 

“Really scary, yes,” he laughs softly. I don’t reply, but I make no movement whatsoever, soaking up the warmth and the ease of his presence. He seems content to stay like this for the time being, oblivious to the life of a whole company of actors around us, and his free hand rests loosely on my waist. “I’m proud of you, though,” he adds after a while. “You were able to identify what was distressing you and asked for help.” 

Any joke I might’ve had to those words dies on my tongue, heavy and sordid and venomous. He’s just saying things because I’m obviously not doing good for the most part, but a part of me wants to believe him. I want to be worthy of his pride but I’m not sure if I really am. “Didn’t solve shit, Mel,” I say instead, because that’s easier. Because it comes faster and more naturally. Because it shelters from this oppressive feeling that I might not be such a fuck-up after all. “I’m still as angry as I was before. Being able to say my mother’s a bitch doesn’t change shit.”

“It’s better than it was before,” he hums. “But let us cut those vegetables.” His voice turns small and private and easy. “Honestly, between the two of us, being responsible is very boring sometimes.”

And the world really does feel less loathsome for a while. 

[touchoffleece]

Tag Game (look at me Ma' first participation in a tag game! 🎉 )

@wlwsakura I had to do a triple take seeing my name 😵‍💫, I am flattered at the tag pass.

Three Ships:

-Edeleth (female Byleth Eisner and Edelgard Von Hresvelg, Fire Emblem: Three Houses) they stole my heart back in when the game dropped with everything about them when shipped together. (Being vague on purpose to avoid spoilers for the Crimson Rose/Black Eagles route for any who may want to experience it blind) In specific female Byleth getting some exclusive scenes with Edelgard, and how their story shifts with the added element of a female Byleth in connection to certain story points that are kind of not as poignant in other routes or ships really makes me ship it more compared to male Byleth and Edelgard.

-Supercorp (Kara Zor El/Kara Danvers/ Supergirl and Lena Luthor from 2015's Supergirl) I have spilled my guts about them a fair amount already. The wlw ship that helped me realize I was not as straight as I thought because of how fond I was of certain same sex friends. They were so couple coded, and it really stinks (older) supercorp shippers went through what they went through by the network, show runners, comic book anti woke mob, other Supergirl TV show fans, other lgbtqi+ aligned people, and homophobes for calling Lena and Kara what they were.

-I wanted to try showing variety for my ships into bl/mlm or hetero ships, but I got to end with InoSaku (Ino Yamanak and Sakura Haruno from Naruto).

I got so much going on with this ship on some different layers.

Way back when I was introduced to Naruto via the anime, I was not at all a fan of Sakura. Looking back I might have been best described as a "Sakura Hater", but having done some growing and having been reminded of Sakura as a female character in a shonen all this time later, I now have realized how unfair I was being to this fictional character for things well out of her control (Kishimoto's bad writing, how women characters are usually treated in shonen animes, served with a side helping of internalized misogyny on my part).

The realization at all the unnecessary hate at a fictional character who couldn't fight the tropes she was writen with made me re evaluate Sakura, and I realized she isn't so bad. No worse than any other Rookie 9.

Along side that re analysize I realized how gay-rivals-to-lovers coded Sakura and Ino are, and how much of a missed opportunity they were. So now they haunt me.

First Ship Ever: hard to remember but either Sanae Ozora and Tsubasa (Captain Tsubasa) or Ranma and Akane (Ranma 1/2)

Lats Song:

Last Movie: Tales of Vesperia: The First Strike

Currently Reading: No books, but I have been meaning to read an auto biography book on the join Korean team composed of South and North Korean players from the 2018 Winter Olympics, I am currently reading the fanfictions: "The Pieces of me (cling to you)" (supercorp) by @wolfie-bee, re-reading "Thief-Nin Sakura" (Inosaku) by Hemerodromus while waiting on the next chapter of "A Dose of Venom" in the Mithridatism series by Androgyninja, and finally "Wednesday and the Nightshade Girls" by Onehitwonder13.

Due to tech limitations I can't link the other fics, sorry.

Currently Playing: FFXIV and Pokemon Scarlet

Currently Watching: One Piece Live Action

Currently Consuming: How-to Fix Tech guides

Currently Craving: some sense of normalcy or less anxiety

People I want to know better but don't have to participate: @casualkoalatea @weissaddams @daneicole @senshi-9 @coffeeshib @nakamatoo

[the-acid-pear]

Please tell us about the hallway bald man

I woke up from a fever and I'm still dehintegrated. No. That's not the word. Dehydrated. There. Anyway sorry if I make no sense.

Basically i live in this REEEALLY old house, from when the Spaniards were around, and the house all looked the same and were uh. Huge as balls. This is to the degree me and my neighbor who both have the same house have it dived up to THREE!!!! parts. Very epic.

Anyway houses this old oughta be haunted.

I don't know how far back the man in the hallway dates back to tho! Because the story of my family is complicated. Lots of witches with no fucking morals who out of hate for kids cursed their parents. Obviously they got cursed back and such, literally a battlefield.

And there WAS a big possession that happened in this house that took up to a few years to be solved. I wasn't there so i can't tell you omg it 100% happened!!! nor i can't be like Tch...... That's bullshit; because everyone who lived in this house who was up to 8 people saw it and was very reserved about it.

NOW 👏 with that said you can really imagine the possibility of some guys being left. My family is dead sure these people work out of your fear, the more scared you are the more they will haunt you because let's be real: they must be bored as all fucks, being dead and such.

Not there's more lore about our ghost belief that i could share but I'll cut to the hallway bald man.

The thing that makes him the most special is that WE ALL SAW HIM, well, at least part of the family did. I know my great aunt did (she's gone now but it's well remembered something breathed on her neck while she was there), my dad had a time he saw him constantly (my dad being extremely vulnerable due to being scared) and i saw him too, very vividly.

Now, I'm not John Sanity, I'm very prone to hallucinating under stress, but when I'm walking out of my bathroom a regular day like others and i suddenly see this FLASH of a very nitid face of this very pale bald and ANGRY man trying to throw my phone off my hand I'm like. Hm. This isn't my regular hallucination.

And i spoke eventually of it w my dad and he confirmed everyone who lived in this house had seen the same guy. OBVIOUSLY they didn't describe him because that would only scare others further, but there's a common agreement between the witnesses of his appearance.

Very worth noting too I'm like, cripplingly face blind. The fact that i avoid eye contact AND that i need eyeglasses doesn't help, to see a face THIS DETAILED is something i wouldn't be able to do under regular circumstances, not even in my brain.

Now, the lore doesn't end here tho. Because notice how i mentioned he tried to throw my phone and was very angry? Well I'm really convinced that didn't end there.

Because time close, earlier or later, can't remember, it's been years, my phone magically fell and the most expensive part broke.

Sure, you could be like ah I'm sure one of the 6 cats did that on accident, but my cats are so fucking careful when it comes to objects, not ONCE i saw em throw something on purpose unless they wanted to eat it, plus this was throw REALLY bad.

Well, i did nothing out of that. I mean, what could i? So time passed and my phone was fixed yippee!

And you know what happens the first night?

It falls the exact same fucking way.

Except! This time it was protected to the teeth so no damage was done! And literally my phone never fell from that again. As if he had given up seeing it doesn't work anymore.

And that's the story of the hallway bald man!!! Some really technophobic and bored old man who can't unfortunately find the light.

[pbandjesse]

It is officially the second day of me being 32! And it was honestly a great day. I have had a really awesome birthday weekend. 

I slept okay last night. But I had very intense dreams. I was screaming and crying a lot. Over a losing my id and buying a giant Christmas themed bunny peep stuffed animal. At a target. Jess was there. It was a lot. 

But I woke up in a good mood even if I was tired. I would shake it off soon enough and had a really good day. 

When I got up I made the bed and went to get dressed. Said hi to Jess on the couch. And got ready. 

We chilled in the living room for a few minutes. I told her about my weird dream. And sat with her in the couch while she finished her coffee. And then we were off. 

I got to ride in her new car! It's very similar to mind inside but has all the extra fancy features and the sunroof and some other interesting things. Like blind spot detection. We were surprised to find that there was coffee all over her windshield and on the passenger side door. What I think happened was someone set their coffee on her roof for whatever reason and it fell over and spilled. Feel bad for whoever had their morning a little ruined. I helped Jess clean it off. And we headed to Hamden. 

We got a parking spot on a side street. It was the first time Jess has parallel parked in her new car so it was exciting when it went so well. 

We went to golden west for breakfast. And it was great. But slow. We beat the rush in but our poor waiter was a bit overwhelmed. Our food took a long time but it was good talking and people watching. And ease dropping on other conversations.  

Once our food came Jess's was missing the salsa from her tacos. But my questions were great. We would eventually get the salsa and our food was excellent. I have really loved all the food we have gotten this weekend. And I'm working really hard to not eat to the point of not feeling well.  I have been stopping at half way through. So I have a bunch of leftovers. Which is nice. 

Once we finished eating we went back to the car and drove to the art museum! I haven't been there for a long time. And it was nice! A little busier than we expected. But that was fine. We had 2 hours of parking paid for. And the musuem isn't huge. But we got to see a lot. 

The best parts were at the end. I love love loved the John Waters collection they had on display. They had Mike Kelly pieces and Cy Twombly and weird stuff and it was great. I had a blast looking at stuff I haven't seen before and that was just really nice. 

We stopped at the gift shop. And talked a lot about the work we are blown away by and stuff that falls flat for us. I have missed art museums. 

We weren't done yet! Next we drove to amazing glaze to do pottery. We went to the Starbucks in the same parking lot first. And then to the painting studio. It was the busiest I have ever ever seen it. We were lucky to get the last table. It would get more busy and crowded and it was crazy. We were there for more then two hours. Tables would change around us multiple times by people much faster then us. 

But we were intense. It took a while for Jess to pick what she was going to decorate. I chose a tea cup and saucer almost right away.  And soons he would pick the stemless wine glass. Which I have done before I really enjoy using. 

Jess decided to do all pink and red. She drew out flowers and pears. And even used a paperclip to scrap stuff away to make very fine lines. I hope that works because I want to try that next time. 

I played with a lot of color mixing and layering. I have no idea how mine are going to come out but I had a really good time making it. 

I started with the plate. I wanted it to be a little meadow. And under it is dirt. I even added a skeleton, bones, and worms. Then for the cup I made a little blue kitty creature. I used three tones of blue that I'm hoping will have a watercolor effect. And on the inside I made his guts and ribcage. I thought I was being so cleaver. I love how it looks. 

I would chat with people at the tables around us. A woman made a fuss about how cool mine was and I was just like. Ahhh. Thank you! I'm an art teacher. And we chatted about how I love painting pottery because it's the only art no one asks me to sell. It's just for me. I have my blankets and stuff for the same reason now but still this is important for me. 

We were there until s little before 4. And I was really really happy with how our pieces came out. I can't wait to see them fired. They said they will be done on Thursday! 

We got home right before James did. And we all chilled for a while. James made me a birthday cake. Me and Jess booked our campsite for Easter weekend. We are going to stay in Susquehanna state park. I hope it's great. It looked beautiful. 

And we just chilled and watched tiktoks for a long time. 

Around 530 James offered to go pick up food. Me and Jess ordered poke bowls (we have had to much cheese and bread this weekend). James would go to R house to get those and would get paid Thai for themself. It would take a while for that to be ready but me and Jess weren't starving. We had both shd leftovers when we first got home. 

But it was really nice to have dinner when James did get back. I got pineapple and seaweed salad and tofu and other stuff,  it was all really good. And excellent choice. And I still have leftovers! 

After we are we all moved to Jamess room to watch two more episodes of the last of us. I was caught up on my knitting so I only had one row to do. So I worked on unraveling my yarn to rewind righter. So hopefully it won't get so tangled anymore. In the two hours we watched the show (which was fabulous) I finished two while balls of yarn. Excellent. 

I had a great time watching with Jess and James. And there is one moe episode and then another new one tomorrow night. Maybe me and James will just watch together. We will see. 

And now we are all getting ready to go to bed. James helped me with the last bit of yarn but then I just ripped it and tied it and James was devastated and the Jess was laughing at me and it was all very silly. 

I got a little shower. And now I am cozy. And I am ready to sleep. 

Tomorrow Jess will go home. She has a baby shower to go to so she'll leave after breakfast. I am so grateful to have her as a friend. 

I hope you all feel happy tonight. Be safe. Take care. Good night! 

[cursesavior]

Gaze drops to the pavement at her words - Suguru knew that she wasn't concerned about the curse, of course not, but he's always had an aversion to having others worry over him. Maybe it's because he's always been stronger than most, always been the one to support others and never had to be supported himself, but it just feels wrong. He's already burdened Chiaki enough as it is, seeing as she'll have to help him get back, he doesn't want his downward spiral to weigh on her mind and distract her. With the kind of thoughts he's been having lately, he's not sure he deserves the care she shows him in the first place. He winces slightly when she wraps an arm around his side - not from pain, he was used to gritting his teeth and bearing it, but there was no way that she wouldn't notice the weight loss now. As if avoiding questions wasn't going to be hard enough as it is, and he certainly doesn't want anyone trying to get him to eat more. He just... can't stomach it anymore. Can't stomach any of it.

"Mm," He makes a little noise of acknowledgement low in his throat at her insistence - no matter what, huh? He wonders if she really means that - if she could mean it, not knowing what's going on in his head. If he told her what he was thinking, about the hatred that felt like it was corroding his soul day by day, would she still stand by him? He doesn't think so, honestly - he's not sure anyone would. The only other person who had even remotely experienced the same thing as him was Satoru, and he seemed just fine... Were his feelings justified, or was he the problem? He doesn't know anymore. Regardless, he doubts she was going to stand by his growing hatred for humanity, by the murderous thoughts clouding his mind. So he keeps it all inside as he limps along with her assistance --

Or at least, that's what he thinks he's going to do. But then Chiaki's prying further, pointing out the all-too-obvious signs of his decline, and... Well, what can he do? It's not like he can say that she's wrong when this is the state that he's found himself in, practically falling apart at the seams - it's too late for that, she knows. And it seems like she's noticed for a while... Funny, how she picked up on it when Satoru seemed entirely blind to it. Not that he can entirely blame him, he did lie to him when he asked, but that doesn't stop it from leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. The feeling of her strings holding him up is a bit strange, but he's too preoccupied with his racing mind to mind all too much at the moment.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens again - almost argues with her about her almost never smiling either, but that's always been the baseline for her, and he knows it's futile to try and misdirect the conversation at this point. He lets those fighting words go with a heavy sigh - he has to say something with some truth to it. "Nothing else... Happened, exactly, it's just... I had a change of perspective after Riko, I guess." That's the lightest possible way of putting it, but it's not a lie. "You know, when I woke up and found Satoru, he was standing there, holding her body - and everyone was clapping. Fucking applauding the murder of an innocent teenage girl who'd done nothing to them. He asked me if we should kill them all... And I said no. I was in shock, and... At the time, I still thought that was the right thing to do. That sorcerers shouldn't hurt defenseless m-- humans, no matter what. The strong need to protect the weak... And I didn't want to make him do something he'd regret."

He has to swallow down the urge to call them monkeys - because that's what they are, really - and just repeating his former ideology makes him nauseous, but now that he's started talking it's hard to stop. Word vomit. "... But I was wrong. Being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't noble or heroic - people like that don't deserve protecting. Every missions we risk our lives, fighting curses for the sake of civilians who would applaud at our deaths, and for what?" He scoffs, cold and bitter as venom starts to seep into his voice. "Just so that we can watch our peers - our friends - laid out on the morgue tables, one after the other? So that we can experience the worst this world has to offer over and over until we meet the same fate? It's not like the curses will ever stop coming. We're chipping away at nothing and the people we're supposedly protecting are..."

Scum. He cuts himself off before he can actually say it, but it's true - they're all scum. Filthy, disgusting, unrepentant animals. He can't bring himself to feel an ounce of sympathy towards them, not when he'd been faced with just how ugly humanity was. He can hardly bear to be in their presence at all anymore - he had to force his mind to shut down whenever he was on public transport to keep that simmering rage from boiling over. He can't stand it. Wouldn't it be better if they would all just... Disappear? He won't say it out loud, lips pursed tight in a frown to shut himself, but he hasn't stopped regretting the answer he gave Satoru that day. He should've let him kill them all - they would've deserved it. Better yet, he should've spared him the pain and regret and slaughtered them himself. They would be outcasts, sure, forced to defect, but... At least he could say he did the right thing. At least this wouldn't be eating away at him. It follows him everywhere - the sound of rain, of shower water hitting the tile floor sounds just like that deafening applause and knowing they're all still alive, living happy lives while good people like Haibara give up everything for a pointless cause... It makes him sick.

"It's hopeless. It's a marathon race where the only reward is a pile of corpses. It's-..." He takes another deep breath, shaky this time as furious tears sting at his eyes. Even now, in his weakened and lightheaded state he felt that urge to tear them all apart, fingers balling into fists as his cursed energy flares dangerously. "... I don't know, but... There's something terrible happening inside of me, some horrible truth unfolding, and... I can't stop it."

❝ WHETHER YOU EXORCISED IT OR NOT isn't what i'm worried about, geto. ❞ chiaki's response is instantaneous, her voice as unshakably level as ever. something about what he says — or perhaps the way he says it, so terribly resigned, as if he is stuck in a constant state of walking toward the gallows — sends a bolt of pain through her, and it is not the pain of a sympathetic friend. it is recognition. the deep, dread-invoking recognition, seeing a familiar name on the list of disaster casualties, the feeling you get when they open the morgue drawer and ask you, is this her? is this him? and you can't even cry because you feel so numb.

it isn't just summer stress, is it? she doesn't say, even as she blinks back a swell of saltwater and loops the arm on geto's good side around her shoulders. it would be just as easy to hoist him up with the threads of her cursed energy that swirl among his like oil and water, but being this close — and delicate, especially with the arm that wraps around his waist and rests above the wound — allows her to confirm a suspicion she's held for some time.

he's wasting away.

chiaki, of late, has been incredibly grateful for her lifelong sweet tooth. it's the only way she's been able to keep food down, the rush of dopamine from a hit of sugar allowing her body to keep running the gears of fueling itself even through the screaming haze in her mind. it certainly isn't the healthiest diet — god knows some part of her that has been choked out by the grief misses the energy she got from balanced meals — but when everything else tastes like ash and the motivation to eat feels like an uphill battle, at least it's something. still, he isn't the only one who looks worse for wear lately. chiaki just has the benefit of being able to hide it better.

❝ hey. don't apologize, ❞ she murmurs. ❝ you're my friend. of course i'm going to help you, no matter what. ❞ it's a loaded sentence; it means so many things all at once.

❝ what's happening to you, geto? ❞ the words slip out without her meaning to, without passing through her diplomacy filters she was formerly known for — which, in fairness, have all crumbled in the wake of her parents' deaths anyway. it feels so stupid to try to speak around people's feelings. what's the point? what's the point when even the best of them die anyway? her parents, haibara, who's next? nanami? shoko? chiaki herself?

she doesn't realize she's clutching him too tightly until her arm cramps from the tension; with a gasp, she loosens her grip on his bad side again, lets a cluster of threads attach to his shoulders to aid her in supporting his (concerningly light, even with her relative weakness) standing weight. ❝ don't try to wave it off this time. i'm — sorry if this sounds rude, but you're not okay. you're skin and bones, you haven't been eating, i haven't seen a real smile from you in months — ❞ bold, maybe, from the girl who famously smiles once in a blue moon. but that's different. ❝ it wasn't just amanai, was it? something else happened. ❞

[justapayneaway]

“... the blindness to compare this to a situation that previously (kind of) happened in this fandom is outrageous to me.” what do you mean with “the situation that previously happened”? Had there already been cheating rumors like this?

Why is everyone not kind of comparing this to what happened in 2015 to end Louis and Eleanor's relationship in the first time?! It's very very similar with the exception of 1D's team setting the story in motion in the media.

Let's compare these two situations shall we and then we'll all be able to see the similarities:

Louis (2015): Eleanor disappeared for a few weeks after being with them on tour in Australia and then one day the media releases pictures of Louis in a pool kissing a random girl. They then used the story to say that Louis and Eleanor had broken up a few weeks before (no official statement besides the representatives one for tabloids if I'm remembering correctly). A few people called Louis a cheater too but since at that time larries were so happy with the break up that it got a bit on the downlow of the whole cheating narrative. Also Eleanor didn't make any public comment about it even though she was papped in the UK.

Liam (2022): Teenager disappeared for a whole month - not using the ring in the pics she posted, being in Texas and the last time we knew they were in the same place was in The Bahamas, but we never actually saw them together there and Liam canceled his presence at the conference - and then we get pictures of a girl which Liam knew close to him. Fans quickly realized who she was and only after that did the girl posted two IG stories that are being used to say he cheated: one pic with them holding hands and one of them hugging. No kissing or anything! A few hours later the teenager comments on a pic of the hug using incorrectly the word "fiancé", mind you this account hasn't been active in years! She gained followers again (which she has been losing) and quickly posts an ad for Tequila. A couple of hours later Liam's team releases the official statement that he and the teenager had broken up a month ago so Liam being seen with a new person isn't actually cheating, but the cheater narrative had already spread on twitter since the teenager made that comment.

See? Basically the same strategy used! The difference was that in Liam's case his team was a bit late in spreading the official narrative they chose and the cheater one had already spread on social media and the media.

Am I the only one seriously looking at this and seeing the similarities?! I can't be the only one!? It was the first thing I thought about when Liam's stuff happened.

Also I need to say this because I think people are stupid with this one: do you really think Liam is stupid and dumb? Or that Conor and Steve that were there with him are stupid and would let him publicly cheat? Like it wasn't even random paps finding him cheating? It was two IG stories that honestly don't have anything bad in it! Liam has been media trained for half of his life, he is a chameleon in handling a lot of stuff... so again I ask: DO YOU REALLY THINK LIAM WOULD BE THIS STUPID AS LETTING SOMEONE, WHO FANS ARE KEEPING AN EYE ON, POST STUFF WITHOUT BEING WHAT WAS INTENDED TO HAPPEN?!

[knowlesian]

i’ve sort of debated whether i wanted to hit post on this and despite the fact that i have clearly now done it: i am honestly still internally unsure!

i am painfully aware that the target audience for this message is more likely to roll their eyes about ‘woke fandom’, ignore my actual point, and get back to creating alternate histories surrounding why they’d prefer one of ed’s ancestors floating alone on a raft to wherever the fuck, instead, because for them: this isn’t emotional. this is fun.

but this was part of what i really wanted to say in that ask about “hey, stop saying māori. honestly if you just stop pointing out these things entirely and shut up about race unless you talk about it in ways that make me feel good that would work out great for me” the other week, and it will not leave me mentally alone until i do it.

(which, again: that was what the ask actually said. exact wording being the thing that defeats unintentional racism is a weird reverse uno card that gets played a lot in these situations, so to be clear that was not the verbatim word choice. however, asking people to stop referring to ed as māori leads to the question: what do you want me to call him? because we all seem to agree: ed is not a white man. 

so what then? you want me to say ‘brown’ and leave it there? ‘i guess some sort of polynesian?’ or, given the strange insistence on race blindness here, is the goal to get everybody to pretend race doesn’t factor into social dynamics? because unfortunately, that’s a thing only white people get to do. not because the rest of us don’t want to— but because the world will not let us.)

i’m not māori and ed’s story is so culturally specific and influenced by that history that pretending i can do anything but see an echo of myself in him would be silly, at best: but i do have that echo.

i’m from the united states, where we also have a long and lovely history of genocide both literal and cultural towards our indigenous populations. 

it’s the cultural part that gets me really fucked up on a personal level v a justice one, when i see the shadows of myself reflected in this adjacent lane. white people stealing indigenous kids and raising them to be nothing but white is not just a part of my ancestral history; it’s how i got adopted. 

when my birthmother started the process the race math was done, and it came up with: ooooh yeah, sorry. this one’s a little bit too much Not White, send ‘em through the tribal system, it’s the law.

and then some legal fuckery happened. for reasons i both don’t want to and don’t feel comfortable explaining further, a box saying ‘nope! just white!’ was checked on some paperwork: i went home with a white couple. 

i have known all my life two things, because i was told them over and over:

- that i am so not white, it took a crime to bring me home

- and that since they did that, all i am is white. 

(i grew up when the us was OBSESSED with the idea of being a melting pot, and my mom used to like to tell a story about how when i was young, people would come up to her in public all the time and ask ‘what i was’. apparently i wore my soul a lot more clearly on my face those days and now, i pass so well white people like to say “no! but look at you! you’re just white!” when i clarify the particulars here.

so, so very many white people often wanna tell me i am also white in the same way they are, very very much. and from white people who i thought didn’t roll like that, too! they’ve got a great-grandma who is 1/4 cherokee they tell me— why always cherokee i want to ask, but never do? i’m not cherokee, do you not know any other tribe names orrrr???— and it never stops blowing my mind.

anyway, the punchline to my mom’s story about people asking her what mixed race baby shop she found me in was her saying: ‘they’re my CHILD, THE END THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS’ because in this story, she was a hero. this was not a story about gross racists. this was a story about how evolved she was for knowing my heritage didn’t actually matter.

when i say this show helps me handle the tension i feel, trying to urge well-meaning white people to Get With It, i so often mean ‘i want to love my family and be honest at the same time, this is so fucking hard what do i do and where are my people???????? i feel like maybe they’re not here’.)

so i get it: for white fans, this is Just Intellectual. they’re focused on the dates and times, and as far as they’re concerned the ravages of empire are a thought experiment; for me and many others, this is what made us who we are. 

seeing ed, a māori man with a mother who believed the lies the world told her and a white father who didn’t see the problem with any of this means a whole fucking lot to me. (and oh lord! don’t even get me started on why his dynamic with izzy is partially so fascinating to me because i can see myself in them both, depending on how i split my life experience between emotional realities and systemic advantages.) this show is the thing that’s gotten me to fucking ask myself “can i... even say i’m white passing? is that me lying, or is that me decolonizing my own fucking brain?” 

(my therapist: also very thankful. she keeps joking about sending the creative staff fruit baskets.)

so yeah anyway. this is just an emotional attempt to explain why the ed thing sucks from my adjacent lane, no big conclusion except:

i honestly don’t even care if white fans think i’m right? i just wish they would consider the deeper implications of the refusal to accept ed could be māori, and what it does to those of us who see ourselves in this show not simply because it’s Gay Pirates, but because it’s Intersectional Pirates.

[kilbygrl]

GRIEVING; jack harlow

pairing: jack harlow x fem!reader

summary: you don’t know how to deal with your parents death, but at least jack is there to help you.

category: kinda angsty.

warnings: talk about death, funerals, fear of being alone and maybe some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

a/n: requests are open! and maybe tmwr ill post a smutty fic 🤏🏼

masterlist

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING AT THE CEILING, or how long Jack's soft fingers have been rubbing you belly, but it’s been a while. The raindrops beat violently against the window, causing a noise that brings you some comfort. It's been a long time since you’ve made any sound other than sighs, while you feel part of the pain slowly disappearing, you don't really feel like talking and even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

Your lips are dry, as is your throat. You can't cry either, you can only feel. You don't even look like the same person who broke half her room two days ago when she got the news that her parents were dead. In fact, you didn't feel like yourself that day, after all, you were never one to breakdown, but you were blind for a few minutes and when you finally woke up all the damage was done. You don't blame yourself either, it happens.

A few hours ago, you were at their funeral. The reality is that it hasn’t hit you yet, even though all these doubts are still circling you mind, and you don't think you'll ever believe it. Feels like it's just words hurting you for no reason. You have no idea what's going on, you’re completely disoriented. You couldn't even say anything to the people while you were there, you couldn't hear most of the condolences and you didn't even have any ready answers for any core of people who were present.

The only thing you paid attention to was that someone told you that the worst day of your life was not yesterday, or today, or tomorrow, the worst day will be a week, a month from now, when you’re going to be alone, when all that's left is silence and you realize it's a fact. It made you feel scared. People are everywhere, afraid of leaving me alone, you even had to beg them to stay only with your boyfriend, they didn't want to leave your house.

You’re so scared that part of the pain comes from the fear of being alone. You’ve always enjoyed being alone, thinking about many people in one place causes you anxiety, but you know that from the moment your boyfriend walks through the front door of your house, it's going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot, and this feeling of anticipation causes you panic.

"Do you think I'll be alone forever?" you ask in a whisper to the man lying next to you.

His fingers stop moving for a few seconds as heavy breath escapes his lips.

“Forever is a very long perception of time,” he replies, now with his hand finding yours and his fingers closing around it. “And it's a long time for someone to be alone”

"So, you don't think I'll be alone?"

“I don't know how to answer that question without giving a monologue,” he says, causing you to let out a short nasal laugh.

“I'm afraid. Of being alone… of being surrounded by people who just feel sorry for me. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, you know?” you sigh, lifting your head to look into Jack’s blue eyes “Yesterday people were looking at me like I was a lost child. As if I asked and needed their pity. My parents never looked at me like that. You never looked at me like that”

“I don't pity you. I'm sorry for everything that happened, but I don’t think pitying you will make you feel any better”

"Did all those people really know them? Mom always said relationships can be so empty… She hates wakes. She hated it”

“And you got that from her.” and suddenly his fingers caress your face, brushing away the strands of hair scattered across it.

“I'm a copy of her” you smile slightly, your grandmother always told you that “These last few days have gone by so fast”  

“Yeah, you haven't slept properly in a while,” he says and you pout.

He was just as much time awake as you were, you hadn't seen his dark circles this deep in a long time.

“I can't rest…” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders.

You find yourself on the fine line of off and a mile a minute. Even though your body is limp from tired, you can't find any point where you can focus and relax.

“Come here” Jack pulls you, placing a simple kiss on your forehead and laying you down back on his chest.

The fingers stroking your hair help with what you wanted, something to distract you. And then, the sense of security you'd lost a few days ago returns. You felt so unprotected the last few days, you missed all the security your parents gave you. You felt tiny. It's kind of funny, in a way, to stop to analyze how important parents are when it comes to raising a person. You’re so glad you had the best in the world, and then you realized that you would never be alone.

You have all these moments, all the advice, memories, letters… all these things to remind you that your parents would never leave you alone. You have them inside you, after all, You’re a part of them.  And on top of that, you have people who don't make you feel like you’re sinking. You have Jack.

You have it all, and yet you’re still scared to death.

[galactic-marvelettes]

@sincerethoughtsblog I get why Disney Adults are mad. Because for years, a lot of us got put down by feminists for loving princess. We were told that the princesses were “weak” and “passive” and just bad role models for young girls. Hell, for a while I struggled to reconcile my feelings as a feminist with the admiration I had for the princesses. Eventually, I came to realize that I could, in fact, be a feminist and love the princesses and it didn’t diminish my worth as a woman. The Disney fandom taught me that.

That being said, it really sucks to watch the very same adults who validated my feelings hate on Rachel based on 5-second clip that originated on some conservative misogynist’s Tiktok. A clip in which she never said that women who want to find true love are “weak”. She just said that her Snow White was going to be a more proactive heroine.

But when I try to point that out (as well as the fact that they are adding fuel to the fire), they don’t care to listen. One woman said that Rachel “fucked [the movie] up” and when I tried to tell her my thoughts on the situation, she promptly shut me down. And that stung a lot because I occasionally liked talking with her.

Meanwhile, others are just flying off the fucking handle because they’ve decided from Rachel’s comments – which they took out-of-context – that Snow White is now “ruined” because somehow her being portrayed as a more proactive heroine who won’t prioritize romance automatically means she’s now some “woke feminist girlboss” who is no longer feminine and eschews romance because its silly.

Rachel said none of that. But they’re all too blinded by their hatred to be rational about anything right now. And I’m so fucking done with all of it.

And what I find absolutely jarring about the whole thing is that a lot of these people just finished watching “Barbie” and singing its praises, especially America Ferrera’s monologue, and here they are doing the very same things she was talking about to Rachel.

Disney adults are a whole different breed because out of nowhere, when did y'all care about snow white. All of sudden, you have fancams and edits of Snow White, your now snow-white activists 🤨. Right.....plus Harrison Ford and robert pattinson actively hate Star Wars and Twilight yet never got bash for it.

[that-yandere-life]

Tasm! Peter parker with a reader who he’s best friends with. After Gwen dies, he turns to her for comfort but she doesn’t realise that he’s starting to grow obsessed with her.

[Warnings: Yandere Themes *Obviously*, Mentions of Gwen’s death, Kidnapping, Manipulation]

Peter turned to you of all people when Gwen died, which some people found a bit weird considering you were her best friend before she was killed.

However, being at least partially friends with him beforehand you didn’t find it that weird, you both had this newfound connection and that was the death of someone close to you.

In fact he really helped you while you mourned her, as you didn’t have many other friends and none that could comfort you in the same way.

Pretty much everyday since the incident the two of you were together, it didn’t matter what you were doing you just had to be together.

It was becoming a near obsession to Peter to watch over you when you weren’t in the same place, like when you were sleeping or in class at the university once you both felt able to go back.

Stopping all of his duties as Spider-Man to take up the mantle of making sure that nothing ever happened to you in the same way something happened to Gwen.

Not even realizing when it was getting to a point of unhealthy how he was beginning to feel towards you, sometimes not even thinking about Gwen anymore, his thoughts became entirely consumed by you.

Seeing you talk to a guy in your class about a project you were both assigned to he felt unbridled rage towards your classmate for getting that close to you.

Blinded to the fact that it wasn’t a flirty or romantic interaction in the least, it was about Psychology and a presentation you needed to give in a few weeks.

Following the guy home that night, roughing him up telling him to stay away from you, of course making sure that he wasn’t wearing his suit but all black so that he couldn’t be identified to you.

Coming home a few days later looking a little concerned and downright perplexed about something, he asked if everything was okay.

You went on to explain how someone had hurt your project partner for talking to you, and you had no idea who would do something that horrible, feeling like it was somehow your fault.

That was something that he didn’t anticipate was you feeling responsible for his rash and harsh actions towards someone that didn’t really have any qualms with him or you.

Promising you that he would look into it with his Spider-Man connections to see if he could figure out any leads into who might have done such a thing.

Earning him a giant hug one that he didn’t truly deserve but he soaked up every moment of the longing embrace, craving your touch like none other before.

That was the moment he realized that he was head over heels crazy in love with you, and while it should have scared him, instead it gave him a weird sense of peace.

Things were different with you than they had been with Gwen, and now he wondered if he should have been with you all along instead.

Never really paying much attention to you until the tragedy occured painting you in a whole new light to him, giving him a sense of purpose again.

How could he tell you that he is now over his dead girlfriend and is now into you in a much more tangible way than he had been with your best friend?

How could he tell you that he woke from nightmares, dreaming not about what happened anymore, but from visions of losing you the same exact way?

So many worries were on his mind swirling and making him feel an unshakable anxiety building up inside of him causing him to act before it destroyed him.

Praying that one day you would understand what he is about to do, needing to ensure your safety before he loses what is left of his own sanity.

Stealing you away while you walk home from class that evening wondering where he was since he usually walked you home and stuck around for a while.

Not anticipating that he was going to be swooping in, scooping you into his arms and taking off through the entire city while your screams were instantly drowned out by the force of the wind hitting your faces as you soared through the air.

Reaching the final destination you recognized as his place, but the inside had been completely changed for your safety and comfort.

Bringing you inside, locking the doors, and checking the windows to make sure that they too were unable to be opened by anyone other than him.

Sighing as you demanded an explanation for what he had done, understanding that you deserved to know what was going on but he couldn’t bring himself to fully explain to you his feelings.

Starting off telling you that he couldn’t stand by while you were constantly in danger anymore, and that he needed to protect you in every way that he couldn’t protect Gwen, going on to say that he couldn’t lose you too.

Begging you to just stay with him and not freak out, he cares too much about you to see you so upset, promising that you would have everything you ever wanted or needed but please just stay.

To be honest your response only tells him whether or not he can trust you without having to bind you to something so that you didn’t try to get away.

If you react positively he will let you sit and continue the conversation with you about the situation, if you are negative he will have to attach you to the bed in the room you are now going to be sharing.

Nothing was going to change his mind when it came to keeping you by his side, no matter how much you fight it, eventually he knows you will learn to feel the same.

[This one got a little long because I was way too into the idea to stop, this was a great idea because it is extremely plausible to happen. I hope that you enjoy, and that it was near what you were envisioning darling! <3]

[xofanfics]

Without Warning - Part VII

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Reader x Mark ft. Doyoung

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You and Doyoung had the best summer you could. Now that he’s hundreds of miles away in college, you have to go through senior year alone. You meet Mark at a time when Doyoung is making you feel like you’re single. Just thinking of the fight you and Mark had tore you to pieces. You replayed the scenes in your head over and over again. You knew that it was your fault and that you chose turbulence over peace when you shouldn’t have. Your behavior brought out all of Mark’s insecurities and you didn’t want him to feel like that. Hell, you didn’t know that he felt that way in general. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for Doyoung. That ship had sailed and with the way things played out, you weren’t sure that you’d take him back even in an alternate universe. It seemed like you’d outgrown each other. Now that you weren’t together, you noticed that Mark was more your type and checked off most of your boxes. Mark was kind, Mark was caring, Mark noticed things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself. Mark paid such close attention to you and it made your heart thump harder. 

Now that you weren’t with Doyoung, you could see more clearly. Before you were blinded by your feelings for him, unable to see the reality of things. You spent a lot of time blaming Doyoung for everything and though it was mostly his fault for neglecting you, you were at fault for not seeing that things weren’t working sooner rather than later. You were at fault for trying to force a long distance relationship. Part of you wondered if, deep down, Doyoung did want to break up but felt bad about hurting you. Did he stay just to protect your feelings, only to resent you for it later? Did he feel trapped, being with you like that?

It didn’t matter anymore, you decided. What ifs and maybes weren’t helpful for you, or anyone else involved. You rolled over in your bed, realizing that it was seven in the morning. You hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning and waking up what seemed like every hour. You’d even had a dream that you couldn’t quite remember, but woke up feeling sad. 

With a sigh, you sat up in bed. Clearly, sleep wasn’t really an option. Your stomach grumbled in hunger. So, you got up, in search of some comfort food. 

*

Doyoung stared at his coffee cup, unsure of what to think. It was Thanksgiving but he wasn’t feeling very festive at all. Today was supposed to be about spending time with the people you loved and who loved you back. But the person he wanted to love and love back was you. And he was positive that, after yesterday’s episode, that he wanted nothing to do with you. He knew he’d been childish but, to be honest, so had you. He knew that you were the kind of person that could be petty. And you knew that he was that kind of person as well. Both of you played a part in how badly last night’s events had gone. 

He spread butter on the bread that had gone cold a while ago. The butter didn’t melt; it just sat there, waiting for a time that would never come. In a sense, the toast probably felt the same way that Doyoung did. For some reason he felt lost without you and he wanted to make things right with you, no matter what. But it seemed like he wouldn’t get that opportunity for himself.  He wondered what things would be like if and only if he had done this properly. If he had only put in the effort required to make things work long distance. He’d been passive about it and he was unhappy and instead of expressing his frustration, he put up a wall and distanced himself from you.  

Maybe it was a bit dramatic but he couldn’t help but feel like his life was ruined. Being with you always felt right to him. He wondered if you were his person and if he’d ruined things for good. Would you ever forgive him?

He thought about the supermarket again. Why had he acted out like that? Why couldn’t he be more mature and have a real conversation with you? He’d played a scene in his head over and over again, with the things he wanted to say to you. In his head, they all played out calmly. No fighting, no yelling, no getting defensive—just talking, having a conversation like people who had some sort of communication skills. He was older and should’ve known better. But he chose to act like a child, too, and egg you on.

He came to this diner because it reminded him of you. The two of you used to come here on Saturday mornings and order a bunch of pancakes and see who could eat the most. You could never beat him, though. You never seemed to be able to eat more than three—not including bacon. 

He heard the bells as the door of the diner opened. He didn’t look up, mostly because he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to care about who would be coming into the diner. But his head snapped toward the counter once he heard your voice. From where he sat, he could only see the back of your head. Your hair was in a messy bun this morning and he could only assume that you’d just rolled out of bed. He knew you came here and got pancakes to go when you were having a bad day, even if it was seven at night. 

Doyoung watched you as you leaned on the counter, looking at the menu even though you order the same thing every time. You’d order the three stack pancakes, you’d debate on the eggs, and you’d get some bacon—not too crispy. 

“Can I have three pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon to go?” you asked. You paused for a moment, then said, “Actually, no eggs. Just the pancakes and the bacon.” Doyoung smiled to himself as you did exactly what he expected. 

You let out a sigh and leaned against the counter again. Doyoung thought about calling your name. He thought about hiding in the bathroom until you left. He had a bunch of things he wanted to say to you and he’d spent the past eighteen hours thinking about it but, for some reason, his throat had gone dry. He no longer knew what to say, how to act, or anything. It was as if he’d lost all sense of human function.

And, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the waitress said, “Do you need a refill for your coffee?” He had hoped that you wouldn’t look over to him, but you turned to see who it was. 

He said, “Uh, sure.”

Doyoung couldn’t describe the face you made upon seeing him. Surprise was definitely one of the things you had to be feeling. Your eyebrows were furrowed. Were you angry? Frustrated? Doyoung wasn’t sure how you felt just by looking at your face. 

The waitress came over with the coffee pot, pouring more coffee into his mug. As the waitress left, you gave her a smile and you walked toward Doyoung’s table. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just said, “Hey…” You sat down on the other side of the table, something he definitely didn’t expect you to do. “I’m really sorry about yesterday, Y/N…I acted like a complete asshole.”

You let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, too. I was acting like a kid.”

“I’m sorry how things ended between us. I took you for granted and I resented being apart. Instead of trying to work on us, I gave up and pushed you away. You’re a good girl, Y/N. You always treated me so well and I wasn’t able to see that because I was frustrated about everything.”

“I should’ve seen it,” you said. “They always say it doesn’t make sense to go to college in a relationship. And, I guess, with our situation and you moving all the way to New York, it especially didn’t make sense. We held on to each other and, without knowing it, we held each other back.”

“It’s not your fault…”

You nodded. “It is, at least partially. I should’ve brought it up sooner. Maybe we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“Maybe, but I shouldn’t have acted like that and treated you the way I did. I acted as if we had no history, as if I didn’t care at all. I’m so sorry for making you feel unloved.”

You nodded. “Thanks for that. And…I don’t hate you. I hate how things ended between us but I don’t hate you.”

A smile came to Doyoung’s face for what seemed like the first time in days. Obviously, he didn’t expect to get back together with you. I mean, maybe you could’ve, but even he thought it was best to leave alone. If things between them were meant to be, then they would be. Maybe they’d meet again in the future and the timing would be right. But for now, Doyoung was finally beginning to accept that maybe, right now, they didn’t belong together.

Doyoung took a sip of his coffee that he’d forgotten about as the waitress placed your to-go order in front of you. “Have a great Thanksgiving.”

You said, “You too,” and stood up. 

From what Doyoung could see, there were two containers in the bag. Maybe it was for your mom but, of course, he couldn’t look past the fact that you seemed to be romantically involved with that guy. And that was fine. He couldn’t be mad at that, but there was still a pang of sadness he felt in his chest. Part of him felt a little sad that you were possibly moving on but the other was at least relieved that you found someone—someone who hopefully didn’t take you for granted. 

“Does that guy make you happy?” You raised your eyebrow, skeptical of what he was getting at. Doyoung could see the skepticism in your eyes and decided to say something else instead. “I’m not asking to be in your business, I just hope that he does…”

You smiled. “He does.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “Take care, Y/N.”

Doyoung thought about offering you a ride home but he figured that might be overstepping a boundary. So he settled for keeping things neutral and to just leave things as they were. He said, “You too. Happy Thanksgiving.”

***

Mark’s phone rang and he was a bit aggravated. He was awake at this point but he hadn’t had much sleep. He kept waking up, tossing and turning. He even watched a couple episodes of Bob’s Burgers hoping to pass out. He’d had maybe four hours of sleep, at best. Mark groaned and picked up his phone. 

It was you. At this point, he wasn’t mad. He felt insecure at the time but he felt better now. At the time, he felt like he couldn’t compete with the history that you had with your ex. But he spent last night on Google trying to make sense of what he was feeling. And after reading a few articles, he felt much better. He had to remind himself that no matter what had happened between you and Doyoung, that you met him and you chose him. He told himself that you liked him for him and that you wouldn’t lie to him like that.

He answered with a yawn. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…”

“You’re up early.”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Me either,” he said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you…”

“I thought about you a lot, too…You hungry?”

“A bit. I was thinking about getting a bowl of cereal or, you know, not being lazy and making some eggs or something.”

“I got you some breakfast. Come over?”

“Okay. I’ll be over in five.” 

His heart thumped with excitement as he rushed to brush his teeth and get dressed. It was kind of crazy to think about how much he liked you. The way his heart suddenly started beating faster and faster. The way his heart dropped whenever he thought you were mad at him. And the way he perked up any time he heard your name. His feelings for you were real and they were stronger than he thought they’d be. Sometimes it felt a little crazy and overwhelming. It’d been so long since he even liked someone and he wondered sometimes if this was normal. 

He arrived at your front door in exactly five minutes, much to your surprise. You opened the door looking beautiful as ever, with your messy bun and a t-shirt that you must’ve gotten from an old school event or something. You smiled and let him inside. “I missed you...”

“I missed you too.”

“I didn’t have a chance to say it this morning but I’m really sorry about yesterday…”

Instead of answering, Mark wrapped his arms around you. He’d been wanting to embrace you for hours and having you in his arms at that moment was all he needed. He smelled the sweet floral scent of what he assumed to be a combination of your body wash and lotion. He just held you like that for a moment and the two of you stood in silence. You let your body go, easing into his hug. Eventually, he said, “I know. I really care about you Y/N. It just felt like I was losing you.”

You shook your head in his sleeve. “You won’t lose me, babe. I promise.”

Mark pulled away to face you with raised eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at the new nickname. “Babe? That’s new.”

“Do you not want me to call you that?”

“I didn’t say that. I like it.”

“I want you, Mark.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanna be with you. Forget what I said about taking things slow. I know what I want and I’m sorry I gave you reasons to doubt how I feel about you. I really care about you and I like you a lot. Almost losing you made me realize that life’s too short. You should go for what you want…if you can. I want a relationship with you.”

At this point, you had no reason to say no to a relationship with Mark. You weren’t even sure why you were hesitant in the first place. You supposed part of it had to do with being less trusting after your last relationship since it led you to question yourself.

“I know you’ve been hurt,” Mark said, “but I’m not here to lie to you or lead you on. You can trust me, not only as your friend but as your boyfriend. I only want to keep that pretty smile on your face. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

You frowned. “I know I don’t…I meant everything I said. Do you trust me?”

“Of course. I’m all in.” Hearing Mark’s words brought a smile to your face and, because of that, Mark smiled, too. “So we’re dating now?”

“Unless you don’t want us to date…”

Mark chuckled. “You’re putting words in my mouth, babe.”

You leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled away for a second to say, “And now I’m putting my tongue in your mouth,” before kissing him again. Mark giggled into your mouth, the vibrations causing you both to pull away in a fit of giggles. 

“Shh!” you said. “My mom’s still asleep.”

There were a few seconds of silence and Mark’s stomach could no longer hold back, apparently. It growled loudly, making you giggle. “Okay, I guess that’s our cue to heat up the food and eat. I’m sure it’s pretty much frozen at this point.”

***

6 MONTHS LATER…

“Congratulations graduates!”

At that moment, the field was filled with cheers and cries of frustration, relief, and joy. Everything everyone had worked so hard for had finally paid off. Everyone was free to follow their hopes, dreams, and aspirations in whatever way they see fit. You were free, free to spread your wings and see where the wind takes you. 

You couldn’t exactly see Mark or your other friends in the crowd but you were thinking of them. You’d all been through so much together. Mark may not have been here for the full four year journey but he was still here and you were happy to experience your senior year with him. Tears welled in your eyes at the thought of you all walking your own paths, paving your way into the world. Thankfully, you had all wanted to stay in-state for college, so you didn’t have to do the whole we’re-going-to-different-schools-and-we’re-going-to-be-so-far-away-from-each-other thing.

University of California were notoriously difficult to get into and, as a result, you nor any of your friends got into UCLA. As disappointing as that was, the four of you got into UC Santa Barbara…except Phil decided to go to UC Berkeley. You didn’t blame him for that. It was a better school after all. So, it would be you, Mark, and Amber in Santa Barbara. And Lucas decided on the University of San Diego. Rina, you were unsure of. She and Lucas broke up about a month ago. Lucas had decided that he didn’t want to end up like you and Doyoung. He’d somehow convinced himself that he’d save both of them the trouble of being in a relationship going into college. You understood but just because it happened to you didn’t mean their relationship was doomed. But it wasn’t your relationship and you figured you’d just stay out of it.

But you were happy, regardless. You’d experienced some turbulence; you all had. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You and Mark ended up choosing the same school, but not for the sake of the relationship. It was because he genuinely wanted to. He’d said, “Well Santa Barbara isn’t too far from LA, right?” And then he added that he could always apply to UCLA later and that, maybe, it would be easier. But no matter the outcome, you were happy.

As everyone left the aisles and found their families, a feeling of bliss swept over you. Your phone vibrated in your hands with your dad’s phone number flashing across the screen. For fifteen minutes, you were trying to follow your dad’s directions to try to find him and your mom in the crowd. Halfway through the conversation, your mom took the phone and led you in the right direction. When you found them, your dad handed you flowers and hugged you tight. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

And your mom, tears in her eyes, said, “You did amazing, Y/N. I can’t believe my baby is going to college!” She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly. For a minute, you thought she wouldn’t let go. 

“Y/N!” 

The familiar voice, thankfully, led to your mom letting you go. Mark approached you and your parents. He gave you a big hug and kissed your cheek. He said, “Congratulations, graduate.”

You smiled wide. “Congratulations…other graduate.”

Then he pulled away to greet your parents. They exchanged congratulations as you looked around at everyone’s smiling faces. Your mom cleared her throat and said, “Where are your parents? We should all have lunch together!”

“Oh, um, I said I’d meet them in the parking lot.”

“Great,” your mom said, “ we can take pictures. I’m going to make an album!”

***

Your mom wanted to throw you a party while your dad was in town, but you declined. The last thing you needed was a graduation party when college was already expensive enough as it was. You were going to move into the dorms for your freshman year of college, but there was no need for unnecessary expenses when you still had a bunch of stuff you needed to buy for college.

Plus, you didn’t want to have to actually plan the party. There was too much work and effort that would need to go into planning a party and there wasn’t much time. Between finals, last assignments, prom and the senior trip, you had gotten pretty busy during the last month of school. You’d have to think about decorations, who you were going to invite, and to find a venue to hold the party. The details would just be too much, you decided. And much to your mother’s dismay, she accepted your decision. So, you decided that you’d rather go on a day trip to Disney with your friends.

But having a graduation party was unnecessary because Phil was having a graduation barbeque. So, in a way, you supposed that it was pretty much everyone’s graduation party. And to make things even better, he happened to live in a house that had a huge backyard.

You and Amber were in charge of bringing the prepped food out to the backyard. You’d all been scrambling to get the backyard ready before people started showing up. With Phil barking directions, he had you and Amber working like slaves in the hot California sun. He insisted that you needed to get the backyard in order before people started arriving. Thankfully, no one from school had arrived at Phil's house yet. From what you could see and from the people you were introduced to so far, only a couple aunts and cousins came early to help set up and cook. 

As you set out paper plates and napkins, you felt someone’s hands around your waist. Then, a familiar voice in your ear. “Hi beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on your cheek from behind. “Did I tell you that your butt looks really cute in this dress?” He gave it a little squeeze, teasing you. 

You smirked. “Perv.”

“I’m just saying,” Mark said, laughing. “I like what I see…”

“Get a room!” Phil called, shaking his head as he walked over to the grill with a bag of coal. “By the way some more people just got here.”

***

You got your closure with Doyoung unexpectedly that day and, personally, you hadn’t told anyone about it. At the time, bringing it up to Mark didn’t seem very relevant and it certainly didn’t seem like a good idea given all that you’d been through the day before. And you couldn’t be sure if Doyoung brought it up to Phil. There was always the possibility that Phil had heard about it but chose not to say anything. Phil wasn’t one to stir the pot, especially since he knew you were happy with Mark. There was a point when he thought that you and Doyoung would get back together someday but he knew that you and Mark were a better match for each other. He’d realized that sometimes things don’t work out, even if you thought they were good at the time.

Either way, it was what was best. Doyoung had been a huge part of your life, yes. You’d had fun, yes. But the relationship was over and, at this point, you’d accepted it. Looking back, there were times where you wondered how you could live without him. But soon after the breakup, you saw that you could live without him. You were now at a point where Doyoung could exist as your ex-boyfriend without you feeling bad about it. 

Being with Mark made you realize that you’d romanticized the relationship a bit. You looked at him during and shortly after the relationship with rose colored glasses, a slightly distorted version of reality. Doyoung hadn’t abused you or anything of that nature, but you realized that he wasn’t the amazing boyfriend that you thought he was at the time. And you could probably say the same thing about yourself. You were both young and didn’t know much about love or how to be in a relationship. You’d been each other’s firsts but that didn’t mean that you’d be each other’s lasts. And the more time that passed, the more you could understand this.

Now, you felt like you’d grown and learned from your mistakes. You got your closure and you felt happy. You were happy with the way things were going with Mark. Even outside of your relationship with Mark, you felt happy. Things were going pretty well for you overall. You graduated high school with pretty good grades and you might not have gotten into your first choice school, but you were happy with your decision.

Of all the things you expected today, you didn’t expect to see Doyoung. So why was it that you were seeing him right now, coming through the gate? It felt like a dream, like time had somehow stopped. You saw him before he could see you. And before you could panic, Amber and Phil stepped in front of you. 

Amber stood with her hand on her hip with a guilty-looking Phil. She nudged him, pushing him to explain. “So I may have invited Doyoung…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just thought you wouldn’t come or something...”

You nodded. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t miss your graduation party, Phil. You’re my best friend regardless of how me and Doyoung feel about each other.” You gave Phil a hug and your attention turned to Doyoung, who’d called his name. Doyoung was carrying a gift bag, assuming it was a little something for Phil. 

“Congratulations, man,” said Doyoung with a huge smile. As Doyoung hugged his friend, your eyes met. He gave a faint smile and let Phil go a few seconds later. He greeted Amber with a hug and then smiled at you and said, “Hey.”

It was crazy how things had changed. This time, last year, you were in a relationship with him. You would’ve embraced each other with tight hugs and kisses. But this year was different. You hadn’t thought about what it would be like to see Doyoung again, but you didn’t feel awkward this time.

You said, “Hey, Doyoung.”

He smiled. “Congratulations, by the way. How does it feel to be on your way to college?” 

You nodded. “It’s alright. Guess I haven’t had a chance to be excited about it just yet.”

At that moment, Lucas came over with Mark. “Hey guys,” said Lucas, flashing a red lighter in between his fingers. “Who wants to go on a walk?”

***

You hadn’t really smoked much before. The first time you smoked, it was with Amber. The two of you sat on the bathroom floor on a Friday night with the window open and the shower running. She called it “hotboxing” and insisted it was necessary so that the smell didn’t linger in the house for too long before her parents came back home from their date night. You took about four pulls, until your head felt heavy and your body felt a little too relaxed. Then the two of you went to the pizza shop, got a pie and some zeppolis. 

The two of you ate it on the couch, watching trashy episodes of South Park. It didn’t last long, as you both ended up passing out. When you woke up, the lights were out, the pizza had mysteriously disappeared and you and your friend were covered with a blanket. You nudged Amber and after she gained her bearings, you laughed and you laughed at two in the morning like you had no cares in the world. 

Out of all your friends, Lucas and Amber were the only ones who could be considered smokers. The rest of you, you supposed, were just smokers if the weed happened to be there. The rest of you would put a couple dollars in and split it all. 

As Doyoung took a hit from the joint, Phil said, “Since when do you smoke?”

Doyoung chuckled and said, “NYU was stressful, man. Let me tell you guys now…College is no joke. Maybe NYU is harder than other schools, but either way…don’t get there and think things are gonna be simple or easy because they’re not.”

You looked over at Mark while Doyoung was talking. You started overthinking, wondering if maybe this was awkward for him. But, from what you could see, things seemed to be going okay. Usually you could tell if Mark felt awkward about something. Looking at his body language, he seemed pretty comfortable. 

***

Mark was at a point where everything seemed funny. His eyes were a little heavy and he may or may not have taken one hit too many. Lucas’ weed seemed a little stronger than usual. Maybe that, or that he’d taken more pulls than he usually would. Either way, he’d be lying if he told someone that he was sober. 

That, plus, he had a few sips of whatever concoction Amber had thrown together in a water bottle before she got to Phil’s house. So, here they were, walking together. At the same time,  

As they walked back to Phil’s house, Mark stared at the back of Doyoung’s head. He seemed like a decent guy, from what Mark could see. He wasn’t under the impression that he didn’t do the things you’d said, but it seemed like he was nice. But Mark also understood that certain situations brought out the worst and the best in people. Just because he was this way in front of friends didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be another way while in front of someone else. 

There were people out there that were abusive to their significant others behind closed doors, but “normal” in front of everyone else. Essentially, there were people that hid pieces of themselves. It was something everyone did; it was just some actions were more or less toxic than others. He didn’t think Doyoung was a bad person. He was a person that fucked up, perhaps more than he should’ve. But that was life. People fucked up and had to deal with the consequences of their actions. 

Mark was a strong believer in that saying that everything happens for a reason. You and Doyoung had your reasons for breaking up, but maybe it was meant to end up like that. If it hadn’t been for that, you wouldn’t have even considered him romantically. And maybe that  would’ve been okay. Maybe you would’ve ended up with different people, or maybe no one at all.

Mark heard a car honking in the distance and realized that he’d been in a daze. He had gotten lost in his thoughts and, by the time he realized that the girls were now walking in front and that he was no longer walking next to Lucas, Doyoung was walking next to him. Taking the opportunity at the sudden eye contact, he said, “Hey.”

Mark was caught off guard. “Oh,” he said, “hey.”

“I know this might be a little awkward…but I just wanted to apologize for that day. I was out of line and I don’t blame Y/N for how she reacted.”

“It’s okay. I was honestly just confused at the time…but, uh, thank you for the apology.”

Doyoung nodded. “Is she happy?”

Mark said, “I think so.”

“I’m glad. Y/N deserves the world and I hope that she can be happy with you.”

Mark smiled and he looked at you, from behind. He saw you laughing and smiling at whatever joke Lucas was telling and it brought a smile to Mark’s face. From what he could tell, you were happy. And he definitely saw a future with you, no matter what. He planned on a future with you. He planned on taking trips with you, experiencing new things with you, and graduating soon. He didn’t know if it was crazy or not, but he could see himself with you for a long time. Maybe even long enough to get married, buy a house together, and have babies with you. But maybe that was thinking too far into the future. Then again, Mark believed in dating with purpose. He wasn’t the kind of person to date someone just to “see what’s out there.” He was the kind of person to date someone he had feelings for, in the hopes of having a future together. 

Mark said, “I think she will be.”

“She’s a great girl,” Doyoung said, “and she’ll treat you well.”

Mark knew that already. He knew it in his heart, body, and soul.

FIN.

***

Without Warning Taglist: @wanlore​ @lunakua​

General Taglist: @to-all-the-stories-i-love @sweetnspicy-noona @baehaechannie​

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”