the way she holds the ring box like it is precious

Dorian - Two Years Later

During the Exalted Council, if the Inquisitor speaks to Dorian, he sits in front of a chessboard. So, I headcanon that this happened (chess’ headcanons from here):

“I saw Demetra’s hand, Cullen.”
The silence felt heavy between the two of them.
 They had met a couple of hours before, when the new Tevinter ambassador had smugly shooed away his colleagues that were chatting around the Commander.
They both needed to speak and they both knew they gave their best if some chess game was involved.
So, they played.
Dorian spoke quietly again, tapping one finger on the luxurious chess board “Well, I admit I forced her to show me her hand. When you wrote me the first time I thought you were a bit paranoid. Now, I regret you didn’t write me earlier.”
The mage moved his pawn “Do not think I’m blaming you, of course. I’m furious with the stupid me.”
The Commander opened his mouth, his eyes gentle, but Dorian shook one hand vehemently “Please, don’t. I’m a Mage. And a very good one. I should have known that an ancient magic such as that damned Anchor is couldn’t just stay quietly carved on her flesh forever. Visante kaffas, I have been so stupid!”
“Nobody could foresee this, Dorian. Nobody. I’m sure Demetra told you the same.”
“Actually she told me to stop being silly and give her another cup of tea.”
Both the men forced a smile.
“How is she doing, Cullen?”
“She…” he stopped, staring at the chessboard. He couldn’t say aloud again what she had said him not later than six weeks ago – six weeks and five days ago, most precisely. He couldn’t. Dorian had the right to know, though.
“She is fighting the Anchor, but she’s not sure who will win.”
Dorian sighed heavily, pinching his nose in a poor attempt to hide his reddened eyes “We’ll save her, Cullen, even if I had to invent a spell myself bargaining with all the spirits in the Fade.”
Cullen looked at him, his throat painfully clenched.
“Thank you.”
It was all he managed to say and it was insufficient to express his gratitude towards Dorian. Towards his friend.
Dorian understood and nodded anyway.
“I told her she shouldn’t be here, wasting her time with this useless, ungrateful bunch of people.” the Mage hissed “She should take care of herself better.”
“I told her the same” the Commander captured Dorian’s Hero of Ferelden “But Demetra helped Thedas’ people while they suspected her of destroying the Conclave, calling her an abomination. She’s not going to act any different now that she carries the Inquisitor title.”
“I bet she also doesn’t want to put Leliana in a more precarious position.”
“That, too.”
“I warned her that nobody was going to thank her,” Dorian sighed conquering a position near Cullen’s Divine “And I fucking hate being right. But this? An Exalted Council against the only person who stood up between Corypheus and the world? This is beyond ingratitude. It’s monstrous.”
A silent nod was all that Cullen could add.
Cassandra had said something along that line, in a more colorful way. Varric, the same. Sera had already menaced to kill at least thirty nobles and twenty diplomats. The Iron Bull and Thom Ranier hadn’t spoken very much, but they escorted their Inquisitor silently daring people to say something wrong, as Demetra greeted people here and there.
Vivienne had been kind enough to keep away from the Inquisitor the most problematic guests, while Josephine took care of being the first to talk with the ones who would like very much spat their venom in the Inquisitor’s face. Cole had asked Maryden to sing Demetra’s favorite song and Leliana, though bounded to her role, had sent in her bedroom fresh flowers, trustworthy servants, useful information about the ones who still sided with the Inquisition and a giant box of the finest Orlesian chocolate.
Demetra had wept in Cullen’s arms “I’m so lucky to have all of you. As long as you still trust me, I’m alright.”
Dorian cleared his throat “Speaking about messy things, I heard there was quite a problem with the bedrooms when the Inquisition arrived.”
The Commander couldn’t stop the blush, but Dorian’s grin was full of pride “Well done, Cullen!”
“So everybody knows about my change of quarters?”
“Are you kidding me? The Commander of the Inquisition army that takes his luggage, ignores the outraged Chamberlain and marches in the Inquisitor’s quarters declaring that he will stay there, messing with thousands of years of protocol? My friend, you are a legend.”
Cullen shrugged “Demetra agreed and I’m not going to leave her alone just because a useless etiquette told me so.”
“Of course! I can already hear the minstrels singing about the Lion of the Inquisition who marched in his beloved Inquisitor room and took her in his strapping arms before kissing…”
“Yes, thank you, Dorian, I get the concept.” Cullen shivered, making him laugh. A sincere one.
“And I didn’t kiss her in front of everybody! I just told them to go to bother someone else.”
“So no kisses? Not even a little one?” Dorian pouted.
Cullen tried to not grin “I didn’t say that.”
Dorian winked at him “Your admirers will be heartbroken to have the ultimate confirmation that you’re not available.”
Cullen smiled “Finally! Maybe they’ll stop to send crows asking me to marry this countess or that noble.”
Dorian tipped his head on the side “Since we’re speaking about this, let me ask you a thing: are you going to ask her to marry you?”
No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just fierce firm belief.
“Good. Soon?”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not anymore. I had one, but now I suppose I need another one.”
“Do you have a ring?”
“I was going in Denerim to buy one when all of this happened.”
Dorian nodded again, stopping their match, and fishing something out of his pocket. Cullen took the delicate box from his hands with a perplexed frown. When he opened it, he couldn’t hold back a surprised sound: laying against soft velvet, a couple of golden rings glittered under the afternoon sun. Inside the biggest one, it was carved “Demetra & Cullen”. In the other one, he read “Cullen & Demetra”. A line of minuscule arabesques in the external part made them two little masterpieces of gold-working.
Before he could speak, Dorian smiled, quiet and sincere “In my Country, it’s the best friend of a bride or a groom that buys the wedding bands. Now, since you don’t have a lot of friends that can  be better than me and I’m quite sure Demetra loves me as much as I love her, allow me to follow one of the few traditions that I’m still proud to.”
Cullen’s thanks were too full of emotion to be as much eloquent as he wished, but they were sincere in every bit. And Dorian winked at him “One last thing: I won’t tell you to take care of her. I have no doubt you will because she’s lovely and you don’t want that an angry Magister sets your ass on fire.”
Cullen smiled, but he knew Dorian was deadly serious.
His friend continued “What I want you to promise me is that the two of you will do the impossible to be happy together. That you will treasure what you two have and you will fight to keep it alive. Life can be hard even for people who love each other as you two do, but you have something precious. Treasure it.”
“I will. We will, I promise on my life.”
“Good. And now, let’s finish this game. I want to take back some Tevinter pride and kick that awesome Fereldan ass of your.”
Cullen chuckled, putting the precious box with the rings safely in his pocket “Good luck with that. And… thank you, Dorian.”

Every reblog, comment and tag are deeply treasured and yes, I read them all!!!!! 

old T-shirt


A/N : For my first ever Harry one shot, I hope this is good and does ‘From The Dining Table’ justice.

Word Count : 1700+

Summary : Harry sees a picture of Y/N on her new boyfriends Instagram, and it breaks his heart.

                                                       * * *

Light cascades through the half turned blinds, torching the room inside and revealing tiny dust particles dancing around Harry’s head. Behind his translucent eyelids he stirs as a disgruntled huff escapes his chapped, raw lips and the sour taste and smell of alcohol and cheap, sweaty sex floods Harry’s nostrils before he’s taken his first breath. 

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The Jealous Boss;

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Summary: Being Jennie Kim’s assistant had its pros and cons. the biggest con being that she’s the jealous type  

Disclaimer: All the things that are mentioned in this are words of fiction aka it’s not real. I’ve literally just made this up and as always credits to @dazzlingkai for the gif

Member: Jennie from Blackpink x female reader

Rating: Mature

Words: 3910

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Prompt from @goteamsuprcorp – “do you think your write a fic were Kara and Lena have a hurt/comfort moment after Man-Hell is yeeted… and kiss” and @ohhsoadorkable – “Also, Lena feeling guilty for hurting Kara after Mon-El gets yeeted. Cause we all know bb is too precious and will feel bad for hurting the love if her life” and “Someone actually praising Lena for helping them getting rid of the daxamites ?!?!? Pretty bb deserves a thank you !”

She tells herself she’s not being selfish.

That Kara is in need of comfort. That she is Kara’s best friend.

Aside from her sister, of course.

Which is why Lena is setting out for Alex’s apartment.

Because she knows her best friend. And she knows that’s where she’ll be. To lick her wounds. To heal. To be held close by someone who loves her in the ashes of dead Daxamites.

To be held close by someone who needs her after someone she thought she needed had to… leave.

She tells herself she’s not being selfish – that she’s seeking to hold, not be held, to offer comfort, not seek it – and she tells herself that Kara would be the first person to offer her comfort, even when in dire pain herself.

She tells herself she is not taking advantage of Kara’s goodness. 

She tells herself that she is not her mother, is not Rhea.

She paces and she rings her hands and she breathes deep, deep, slow, and she knocks on Alex Danvers’s apartment door.

It’s late – so late that it’s actually, technically, early – but there’s a light on under the door, and there’s immediate movement inside at the sound of her knock. Lena gulps and stiffens and prays she won’t regret this.

The detective who’d arrested her – the detective that Kara was coming to accept, coming to like, coming, even to love, who was dating her sister, who was turning her sister into a tremendous puddle of mush – answers the door, wearing boxers and a t-shirt so oversized on her that Lena refuses to believe it’s hers.

“Thank you for what you did,” is the first thing the woman says, and Lena is nothing if not surprised. Shocked, even.


“You and Winn. You two saved the planet. And before you worry about blood on your hands, don’t – Rhea was killed, and so were some of the Daxamites who were on the surface, but most of them transported up and took their ships out of orbit in time. So they can’t come back, but their species… It’s not dead. Okay?”

Maggie says all of this softly, soothingly, leaning slightly forward into Lena’s ear, and Lena doesn’t know the last time – outside of Kara, or Supergirl – that she felt this… heard. Without even having to say anything.

“Babe, who is it?” Alex calls, because apparently Kara is too exhausted, too pained, too agonized, to strain herself with her x-ray vision.

“A friend,” Maggie steps back and gestures Lena inside, and Kara stirs from the blanket Alex has her wrapped in. Stirs from the arms Alex has her wrapped in.

“Lena,” she croaks, and Lena holds out her hands.

“No, no, Kara, no need to get up, I just… I wanted to see if you’re alright. I heard… I heard you’ve suffered a loss.”

She doesn’t give details, and when something flashes across Kara’s eyes – a classic but vague does-she-know panic – she holds back both a sob and a chuckle.

Now isn’t quite the time.

“I’ll be alright,” she murmurs, and Lena holds out the bag she’d carried over.

“Your favorite place for potstickers in all of National City is still open for business, you know. Something about people needing good food and good company in times like this.” 

She glances around at the empty pizza boxes and potsticker containers.

“It seems you already knew that, but more can’t hurt, can they?” she asks, almost timidly, and Alex smiles as she stares up at this woman who can save the world, over and over and over, while her own mother is trying to destroy it, but who is so, so, so gentle with her little sister.

“Potstickers can never hurt,” Kara murmurs as she unwraps her arms from the blankets and reaches for the potstickers gratefully. Alex and Lena exchange a soft laugh.

“Well, I’ll just leave you three to it then,” she says, and she starts to head out the door.

“Lena, wait!” Kara is on her feet by the time Lena turns her head.

“We can share these. At my place. If you want. Alex and Maggie have a lot of… processing to do, and we can do the same. Processing, I mean. Processing, as friends. You… Rhea hurt you, and I want to be there for you, too.”

Lena shakes her head – she is not selfish, she is not selfish, she is not selfish – but Kara knows better.

She strides across the room and reaches for Lena’s hands with one of hers, both of them oblivious to Alex and Maggie’s wide-eyed glance.

“You’re allowed to need someone, too, Lena. Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you, too. We can be here for each other.”

“I…” She fights tears and she reminds herself that she is not, perhaps, worthless. “I don’t want to take you from your sister and – “

“Alex? Do you mind? If I go with Lena?”

Alex suppresses a knowing grin and shakes her head.

“I love you,” she pulls her into her, close and warm and very slightly needy.

“I love you, too,” Kara reminds her, giving Maggie a squeeze, too, before setting out the door with Lena.

They don’t speak much on the walk back to Kara’s apartment.

The walk back through war-torn streets and downed electrical lines.

They don’t speak much as they go through Kara’s apartment, powerless, lighting candles and pouring wine.

Kara takes everything that can spoil out of the fridge and freezer and piles it onto the table.

“Who knows how long the power will be out?” she offers by way of explanation, and Lena suppresses the urge to kiss the redness from her eyes.

They don’t speak much as they plow their way through ice cream and yogurt and potstickers.

They don’t speak much until Kara lets herself break.

“Everything I do, everything I try, it just… he made me feel connected to my… my parents, my family, my history, you know? My people.”

She’s either too grieved to notice her slight slip, or she trusts Lena too much to care.

Or a little bit of both.

“You haven’t lost them all over again, you know,” Lena says in a small, small voice. “Your parents. Your people and your history. If anything, Kara Danvers, you’ve honored them.”

Kara furrows her brow and adjusts her glasses and shakes her head, and Lena hesitates slightly before tucking a few strands of loose hair behind Kara’s ear. Kara freezes and meets her eyes with an intensity borne of months of unspoken feelings, months of repressed need.

“I don’t feel like I’ve honored much of anything lately,” Kara sighs, and Lena nods and chuckles slightly.

“Neither do I. You know I was actually foolish enough to let Rhea manipulate me so baldly? I walked right into every single thing she had planned for me. When Supergirl said she’d fight her…” She looks at Kara significantly, and she thinks she sees a spark of unspoken acknowledgment there. “I know it’s ridiculous – she was fighting for the whole planet – but it also felt… like she was fighting for me.”

“You deserve that, Lena,” Kara tells her, her voice barely above a whisper. Her voice barely distinct from a prayer. “Someone to fight for you. You deserve that.”

“Kara,” Lena swallows, and Kara silences her with a slight shake of the head. 

Slowly, steadily, eyes a burning, chaotic storm, she takes her glasses off of her face. Lena inhales slowly, steadily, eyes a beacon, chaotic clarity.

“I’d like to kiss you, Lena. Can I?” Kara asks, and Lena lets her body respond.

It’s soft and it’s tentative, because it doesn’t matter what Kara might think she wants tonight – in love with him or not, even liked him or not, she cared for him, cares for him, and Kara Danvers, Supergirl, her best friend, deserves better than mourning sex – soft and tenative is all it’s going to be tonight.

When their lips part and Lena’s heart starts beating again, her eyes stay closed. When she opens them, Kara is looking at her like she’s a work of art, like she’s a miracle.

Like she’s hope.

“Was that alright?” Kara wants to know, and Lena’s smile is as warm as her fingers on the underside of Kara’s wrist.

“That was perfect,” she whispers, and when she reaches across the table for a spoon, Kara giggles softly, because maybe there is hope after all.

A word on gambling

Hey all, I found the Elsewhere University page like two days ago but man, I was so inspired right away. Please allow me to add to this marvellous universe. 

Some words in advance: 

This story ties into a few others. Nothing but quick mentions, though; @fruedtrollism and @comerunwildwithme you two may catch brief glances of you characters :) It also features the weird humanoid/horseoid skeleton beast from this post

For those who haven’t seen the EU blog yet: Al you need to know is that the setting is a prestigious university set on top of a fairy hill. Have fun reading!

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Our Story

Read the other chapters here.

December 24, 2008

Everything is made a miracle by the fact of their togetherness. The banalities—something spiritual.


The way Jamie does their laundry. How his diligence for clean, crisp folds never extends to removing the drier sheets, tangled amongst the clothes. Claire is forever finding them in the armpits of her sweaters, or in the rolled cuffs of her jeans when she dresses in the morning. A waft of detergent—and of her husband—as a white sheet drifts down, brushing her calf like a beloved’s hand. (Familiar; intimate.)

And the way Claire knows terms like methylprednisolone, but cannot win a single game of Scrabble. Rainy days spent brooding over the board, Jamie trying to coax Triple Word scores from her Z’s and Q’s and X’s. “I reckon it’d be quixotic to think the weather will clear for a picnic?” he asks (hints), peeking at her tiles. 

More miracles, then: the way her eyes light up. The kisses she will give him for this small act of kindness. Quixotic written by her lapping tongue, and poppies left to bloom on his neck. (They will make the neighbors blush.)

Their home, too, is another miracle, with its wainscoting and butter-leather and Persian rugs. No longer must they suffer the grimy box of their mid-20’s, or the lonely echoes of their own respective homes. Boston and Scotland have been shed like old skins, or if not shed, then at least peeled to the thinnest films. 

Instead there is this house and Jamie’s footsteps in the study, and the pour of Claire’s nightly glass of milk. North Carolina lies just beyond the windows, a wild glory whose trees lean close, listening. (Even the universe has grown green-bright with envy, wants to be a part of Jamie and Claire’s love.)

And just last week, they installed heated floors and called a plumber to insulate the pipes. So now: socks peeled off with glee, breakfasts of mouths that taste like sleep and last night’s Colgate. The coffee is brewed too long and the pancakes are left on the griddle, and they burn (and burn and burn).

Miracles, all.

But even so, there is one miracle that has not come. Their hope for it—the fervency, the sheer constancy of the thing—is shadowed by a fear similar to Claire’s wedding-day stomach. Lying side by side in bed, they worry:

What if it never happens? What if it does?

(A baby.)

“We’re so old,” Claire jokes one afternoon, a few weeks into 40. She is walking the tight-rope of Jamie’s spine, trying to usher his stiffness to the surface and away. She remembers her splintered, little-girl feet—dancing in 1973—as she tip-toes up and down, up and down her husband’s back.

Though this ground is more uneven than her childhood porch, she prefers it. No sneaky shards to puncture her once-tender skin. Jamie’s are deltoids here and his trapezius there—a special comfort in her favorite pearl of his vertebrae. She hunts for it, feels its safe rub against her sole, and holds back a sigh. (Suddenly, this seems like the most precious gift, and she wishes, more than ever, that she could offer her own back to two tiny, wobbling feet.)  

“Aye, we’re fossils.”

“You could dig us up and brush the dust off,” Claire says, and so Jamie reaches back, swipes his index finger along her shin and licks it. “What would you do if you found my bones? You’re just walking along one day, kilt swinging, and you trip right over my fibula?”

“I’d build a home out of you,” Jamie says immediately. “I’d sleep on yer pelvis.”

“Awfully uncomfortable, pelvises. You’d have more back problems than you do now.”

“But that’s what yer fibulas are for, see. I’d save them for a cane and fuse ‘em together. I think it’d be nice. Always having you to lean on.” Jamie groans when she tuns around; Claire’s heels digging in and scooping out his pain. “But that’s assuming you die before I do, Sassenach. Maybe I’ll be the one who starts to go first.”

“I bloody well hope not. That’d be unbearable.”

“But no’ impossible. Me, wearing diapers at age 70…D’ye think you could ye wipe my arse, and still love me afterwards?”

“Darling, I can’t imagine a higher honor than wiping your ‘arse’ for you.” 

She is smiling—but only just—as she steps down to lay herself across his body, to shield the life of him. 

“And what about you? Will you still love me when I’m blind? I’ll have to get glasses—those big, alien things that make people look like startled bugs or arctic explorers. Like Murdina wears.”

“You’d look verra cute as a spectacled, startled bug, Sassenach.”

“But not an arctic explorer?”

“I’d prefer you as a wee crawlie inside my shirt.”

Claire snorts (a vestige of her mother there, in that unchecked happiness), then adds, “And my memory! Sheesh. A few years, and that’ll be shot straight to hell. Might even forget your name one day. Jack Fraser? Jay Fraser? ‘Ringo Starr, is that you?’ It’ll all be very embarrassing, so please just play along and pretend it’s endearing.”

“Dinna be silly,” Jamie says. “There’s no forgetting me or you.”

(A shame his body is so stiff. More feeling in his back, and he would sense the creep of a premonitory chill. See a far-off but certain future where he must pause, think slowly, in order to make a wife out of the woman next to him. A stranger to him, suddenly, until she reintroduces herself. Jamie, it’s me, it’s me.)

“I suppose you’re right,” she says. “We’re rather stuck with each other, aren’t we?”

Jamie hears the unspoken longing in her words, and he feels it too, somewhere deep in his chest. Let it be this way forever. (Together, beyond death, inside a pair of slanted amber eyes.)

“I meant my vows when I said them, Sassenach. ‘In diapers and dementia…’”

“Oh, is that how it goes?”

“Aye, the Catholics have always said it so.”

“Have I told you that I’m so glad to be stuck with you again? You. Ringo. My two-times-over husband.”

Jamie laughs, rolling over beneath her so that they’re side by side, face to face. Elbows propping heads; Claire’s right leg, straddling. She moves closer, extending her hips—oh, to live there in that cocoon of bone!—and the last of Jamie’s tension loosens, his body freed.

“So nice ye had to do it twice?”

“Better than nice,” she whispers. “Perfect.”

(No matter what, he will always remember this. How two is so much greater than one.)

But while Jamie and Claire joke about their ages, they both know that time is running out. Their baby, they realize, would be a different miracle from all the others—would eclipse even those babies born from more youthful, hospitable insides. And though they have not sat down and spoken plainly as they once did (I want to have a baby), their needing rings throughout the house, spells itself out on the Scrabble board. A baby. Let’s have a baby.

There is an added sense of responsibility to their lovemaking now, which is no less passionate but simply filled with extra care. As if the baby teeters on some fragile precipice, and needs only their encouragement to find its will to live.

Claire has taken multiple tests, all negative, over the past several months. Each time she throws a stick into the waste bin, she feels their chances slipping through her fingers, joining the pile of Q-Tips, wrappers, and tissues soaked in her frustration. She wads up toilet paper shrouds and covers the oval screens, pretending there was no test, no probability lost with the pronouncement of that one thin line.

This time is different though; Claire knows it. It is after Christmas Eve mass, 11:30PM, and she is pacing in the bathroom. Claire has been waiting all day for her courage, to be able to lock the door, hold a seventh stick, and see if her instincts have any kicking, doughy legs. She retrieves the pink box from the cupboard and sits on the toilet. Holds her breath until black sparks are in her eyes.

Tonight, she thinks, is a night for miracles.

The Pickett Ring

Pairing: Newt Scamander X Reader

Requested: Yes

Anon: Omgosh can you write an imagine where newt proposes to the reader??

A/N: I wrote this at two in the morning cause I couldn’t sleep :P Enjoy!


“Newt, we’ve been here for an hour, just choose a ring.” Jacob mumbles, totally bummed out. But he had reason to be this unenthusiastic, Newt had dragged him all the way to the centre of New York to find the best jewelry store in town, at five in the morning. They could’ve just went to the closest one but Newt was afraid of the chandelier after the last incident…

Jacob yawned and leaned against one of the glass displays being careful not to accidentally smash anything. He looked to Newt who’s eyes flash, shaking his head furiously, making his soft curls bounce like crazy.

“No, this is (Y/N) we’re talking about, she doesn’t deserve just any ring. She deserves the perfect ring, and I’m going to find it.” his eye suddenly widen as he sees a gleam out of the corner of his eye and he quickly runs to it, gasping when he sees what produced the beautiful glow.

“This is the one! It’s perfect!” Newt cries happily, clapping his hands together like an excited child on their birthday.

Jacob strolls over and takes a peek over Newt’s shoulder, straining as he tried to look over the tall man’s figure.

“Gee, it is perfect! It’s gorgeous, yet simple. I bet she’ll love it!”

“But she has to accept it for it to mean anything…” Newt trails off, trying to picture the look on your face when he goes down on one knee…

“Hey man, stop it. She loves you, why would she decline?” Jacob lightly punches his shoulder and Newt topples a bit closer towards the perfect ring they had been eyeing. “If it makes you feel any better, I would totally marry you if I were her - but don’t tell Queenie I said that.”

“I’m afraid I can’t make any promises.” Newt says, chuckling.

Jacob laughs too, before saying, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get it!”

Newt nods happily and calls a clerk over, pointing to the ring.

“I’d like this one please.”

The clerk names an outrageous price and Newt feels himself getting weak in the knees.

“That is preposterous!” he exclaims, nervous sweat starting to trickle down his forehead.

“That’s the price mister, you take it or leave it.” the clerk replied, walking away and leaving Newt standing there in shock.

“Jacob, what am I going to do? I will never be able to afford this, never in a life time!”

“Hey, it’s alright, we can find a solution.” Jacob murmurs, gently trying to comfort the now shaking man.

“But it was perfect…”

“I know man, but there has to be another way, we’ll make something work. I promise.”



Jacob jumps, turning around to find the source of the noise, only to find Newt with his head on his desk, muttering in emotional and physical pain.

“Come on man, lighten up. We’ll find a cheaper ring that’s even better than the one you originally found.” Jacob says, desperately trying to lift the spirits of a usually optimistic Newt.

Newt raises his head, his face covered with a mask of despair. He shakes his head sadly, his green eyes sparkling sadly before his head went crashing back on to the desk.

“You don’t understand, I can’t afford even the cheapest ring and besides, you can’t find one just as nice as the first one for such a low price.” his voice is muffled and depressing. Pickett, who was in Newt’s front pocket for the entire time, crawls out and moves with Bowtruckle grace across his arms to his hand, gently giving one of his fingers a hug. Newt wasn’t sure if this was a sign of affection and pity or him just having attachment issues again. Maybe both.

“Oh,” Jacob mumbles, his spirits also lowering. “Couldn’t you just magic a ring? Transform something into one!”

“How meaningful.” Newt says dully. “"Hey (Y/N), you know that ring that’s on your finger? Well I didn’t tell you this, but it’s actually a cup, sorry.”“

“Okay, point proven. But you can’t just postpone the proposal! Knowing (Y/N), I know she will agree to marry you without a ring, she loves you no matter what Newt.”

“Exactly, what have I ever done to deserve her? She perfect and I need a ring that has meaning, something perfect…” Newt trails off as he raises his head, only to see Pickett entwining himself with Newt’s finger, looking majestic as he did so.

Newt blinked and smiled suddenly, an idea starting to form.


“Newt? Jacob said you needed me?” you called, skipping down into the case, landing gracefully into his shed. You smile, remembering the first time you were in there. Let’s just say that you didn’t land as gracefully as you had now.

He wasn’t in the shack so you decide to walk out to the beautiful world that was filled with creatures.
Sure enough, you see Newt, standing in the mist of it all, anxiously fidgeting with his bow tie. Your face bursts into a smile and you run towards him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“(Y/N),” he breaths, holding your hands. You look at him quizzically, tilting your head slightly to the side.

“I love you, I have loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you. You keep me sane when work piles up, you make me happy, you make me laugh. You radiate confidence, so much that you’ve transferred some of that to me. But most of all, you make my heart flutter like a Billywig whenever I’m near you. You’re perfect and I want this relationship to be something more…” he takes a deep breath and kneels on one knee, pulling out a rather large, velvet box. Your eyes widen.

“(Y/N), love. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you say happily without hesitation, before he even got to open the box.

You pull him to his feet and hug him tightly, then kiss him on the lips, your lips fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Thank Merlin, I was afraid you were going to say no.” Newt says, smiling and pulling you even closer.

“Now why would I do that? You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I love you.”

He smiles and lifts up the box that was now shaking.

“You were so excited that I didn’t even have time to present you this,” he says, smiling nervously. He opens the box and inside was Pickett. He crawled on to your hand and intertwined himself with your fingers and Newt’s, bringing them close together.

You start to say something but he cuts you off before you even get a word out.

“Please let me explain. (Y/N), I have attachment issues, to you. You are the key, the only key, to unlocking my heart and I love you as much, no, more than all of the creatures in the world and this is why I present to you a Bowtruckle. You are worth more than just a precious metal for you, are priceless just like the lives of these creatures and I would never trade you to some goblin or anything for the world.”

He closes his eyes, expecting a back lash but when he hesitantly opened them, all he saw was a beaming smile.

“Newt, I was about to say thank you earlier. This means so much more than a tiny ring. It’s the perfect ring.” you smile, gently moving your fingers against his.

“Don’t you mean it’s the Pickett ring?” he says with a smile.

Never Ever - Part 3


“What’s your ideal type?” Eric, one of the hosts of After School Club, asked Mark.

“Y/N,” he admitted. The other GOT7 members exchanged looks, and Eric laughed – but then his smile faltered when he realized Mark was serious.

“Wait, really? Y/N? You know the stories about her, right? What, are you looking for trouble or something?”

Now it was Mark’s turn to smile. “Definitely.”

Pairing: Mark x You (Idol Reader)

Genre: Humor and Angst

[Mini Masterlist]

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. Y/L/N stands for “your last name.” None of the information entered is stored. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your last name: submit What is this?

Originally posted by got7wings

Halfway through the drive, Y/N unfroze, and she knocked his knee with hers. Mark looked over in surprise to find her looking at him.

“Hey, Mark,” she said, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He raised a brow, wondering where she was going with this. “Yes?”

“I hate coffee.”  

“Ah,” he exhaled. “Well, that could make this outing significantly less fun. Is there something else you want to do?”

Y/N looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a smile like devil’s. “Wanna get married?”

Mark’s POV – 7 AM 

The pawn shop was small and empty of people, but crowded with merchandise. Mark ducked beneath some rugs hanging on display from the ceiling with Y/N following immediately behind. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier, and it added a new softness to her usual jagged beauty.

Happiness looks good on her, he thought to himself as he maneuvered through the clutter. He’d seen her smile on every social media page, but this was different. This was life pouring out of her.

Nailed to the walls was a variety of strange things like stuffed deer heads and what looked like stolen street signs, and the metal shelves sitting around the store were lined with other random baubles and trinkets. Mark passed several pairs of mismatched shoes, outdated computer hard disks, snow globes, a dusty saxophone, porcelain Buddha figurines, and more. Useless junk, but Y/N seemed fascinated, running her fingers over things and even pausing to study others. At one point, she picked up an old book with a pentagram embossed on the cover and leafed through it, shooting Mark a sly look.

“Wanna summon a demon on our wedding night?” she chuckled. He just smiled but in his head, he thought to himself, I’d do anything with you.

“You kids looking for anything in particular?” a voice rang out, and they both glanced over at the counter where an old, rednecky man sat with a half-finished beer.

“Yeah, you got any rings?” Y/N asked, pulling Mark along when the man gestured to the glass counter in front of him.

“I got all kinds,” he told them as they peered at the display. He did, indeed. Class rings and purity rings, brass and sterling, chipped diamonds and precious stones and plastic. “What kind are you thinking?”

“Oh,” Y/N grinned. “The biggest, gaudiest stone you have. Something that screams ‘OH SHIT, THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED’ and also that we might be insane. Oh, and it shouldn’t cost more than twenty-five dollars.”

Keep reading

Jaehyun - Pizza-girl & Dimple-boy

genre: fluff and other stuff idk some college!au thingy majingy
word count: 5,527
plot: Yo mama ineffable mark HAHHAHHHAHAHAHAH (as you know personally I love reading your fanfics) Im gonna request something. Can you write about a pizza deliverer (a girl) not knowing she is delivering to Jaehyun’s house during his break. okay I believe your creativity from here 💕 Please write more often I will support you forever💖💖
A/N: @jaelyeoh sorry for taking 103473475638324 years ily hope this won’t be a disappointment. the ending is so gross

Originally posted by jihansoul94

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Proposal // Dean x Reader FLUFF

A/N: sooooo after that mama performance of the holy trinity, I felt some type of way. This is the result, enjoy :)

Word count: 1.215

Dean started to pace around his dressing room, nervously playing with a tiny velvet box in his hands.

When the door suddenly swings open, he quickly put the box in his pocket, hiding his hands behind his back afraid you had walked in, but as he recognized the faces of his good friends Zico and Crush he immediately relaxed.

“What’re you hiding?” Zico says raising his eyebrow at him.

Crush closes the door behind him as he sits down on one of the nearby couches.

“It’s nothing” Dean says sighing, running his hand through his hair.

He couldn’t recall the last moment he was this nervous. Before performances he got healthy nerves, but the nerves he was feeling right now weren’t good for his blood pressure.

He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror and fixed a piece of hair which was parted from the rest.

“Okay, so you’re acting all kinds of weird bro, what’s going on?” Crush says crossing his arms.

Dean looked at the both of his friends who weren’t going to let his behavior slide. He put his hand in his pocket, revealing the black velvet box, opening it to reveal a 3 karat princess cut diamond ring.

Zico’s mouth dropped to the floor and Crush immediately jumped up from the couch in pure shock.

“W-wh-this? H-when? Who?” Zico stammered.

“(Y/n) obviously, dumbass.” Dean said closing the box again

“You’re asking her? Tonight?” Crush finally said, taking the box again to inspect the ring.

Dean nodded. “Do you think she’ll say yes?” he nervously asked biting on his lower lip

“That’s what you’re worried about? Of course she will.” Zico says putting an arm around Dean’s shoulder, comforting him.

“She’ll be crazy not to say yes to this” Crush says playing with the box.

Dean snatched the box out of his hands. “Don’t play with that, it cost more than my apartment” he frowns.

“No but seriously, you’ve been together for 4 years now, she’s not going anywhere. You’ve been through so much together, there is no way in hell she’ll say no” Crush says sitting back down.

“Yeah, yeah I guess.”
“Everybody! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you all so much for the support you have given me for the past couple of years. This year has been especially precious to me as I got to introduce you all to my beautiful girlfriend (y/n)”

The crowd went wild and all eyes were turned on you. You were shocked at his sudden public outburst of affection, something he rarely did. But given the fact it was your 4-year anniversary, you understood a little.

You get butterflies in your tummy as your boyfriend stares at you lovingly, smiling widely holding out his hand

“Will you please come up on stage with me?” he asked.

Your eyes widen and you furiously start to shake your head, trying to get him to stop whatever he was doing.

Zico laughed through the mic “Ah come on (y/n) don’t leave him hanging”

You stood frozen in your place as you felt thousands of cellphone camera’s pointed to you.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)!” Crush chanted to get the crowd going.

They all joined in and with that your legs automatically started moving towards the stage.

As you walk up the stairs onto the stage Crush takes your hand leading you to Dean.

The smile on his face was contagious so you hide your face in with your long sleeves, eyeing the crowd. The ocean of lights was absolutely breathtaking and you heart started to pound harder and harder in your chest.

You had no idea what he was going to do, maybe serenade you? But you could already tell you were going to have a hard time trying not to pass out in front of thousands of people.

Dean took your left hand intertwining your fingers. You were still covering your gigantic smile with your other hand as he never lost eye contact with you.

“Jagi” he sighed

The crowd screamed in response to his voice.

“I just wanted to tell you that you make me so happy” he started.

“aaaaaaaaaaawwhhh” Crush said teasingly.

“Give me a moment guys” Dean joked to his friends who were standing next to the two of you, with their arms around each others shoulders, and with that you knew something else was up.

Dean smiled at you sweetly. “We have been through more then anyone can imagine in the short 5 years we’ve known each other and the 4 years we’ve been dating, I literally fell in love with my best friend and I don’t know what I did to deserve you” he says sighing and looking down.

Tears start to prickle your eyes at his sudden confession. You love him so much it’s almost annoying.

“With every choice I make I think of you, you just make me a better version of myself and I don’t know what I would do without you”

The crowd was silent but all of the flashlights were still focused on the two of you.

You looked around the crowd, people were looking behind you so your eyes followed.

A picture of you and Dean smiling at each other was displayed on a huge screen. You’ve never seen that picture before, but it was already your favorite picture of the two of you together.

You both looked truly happy and carefree. Something you wish to always be.

“That” he said pointing to the picture. “Is how I feel every single time I lay my eyes on you.”

He let go of your hand and from there on out everything went by so fast.

He got on one knee, revealing a black velvet box, opening it for you.

You were in complete and utter shock. You would have never seen this coming, as Dean didn’t seem like the type to feel the need to claim you with marriage.

Of course you’ve talked about it, but never in a serious matter, and since this was happening, he was down on one knee in front of you showing you such a beautiful ring held by the most beautiful man, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing anymore.

How did you become so lucky? How did this even happen? Where did those 4 years of your life go, because to you your relationship with him never got old.

Every time you see him you fall in love all over again. You don’t know why but you were always a little self conscious about yourself, thinking he could find a better girlfriend, but this just took all of that insecurity away.

He wanted you. No. He needed you. And he is all you need as well.

“(y/n) would you make me the happiest man alive?” he smiled up at you.

“Will you marry me?” he says not believing he actually said those words out loud.

Your tears were streaming down your face as you kneel down with him, taking his face between your hands, placing a sloppy kiss on his lips, nodding, resting your forehead against his.


The crowd goes wild.

Zico and Crush started to jump around the stage like happy babies.

“Yes” you repeated.

Dean’s face lit up and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for one of his bear hugs as he kissed the top of your head.

“I love you so much jagiya, forever.”

“I love you too, forever” you say sniffling into his chest.

That, was the start of forever.


summary: your birthday’s coming up and you’re not so subtle when it comes to dropping hints

word count: 750ish

a/n: Happy birthday @imaginingbucky!! I hope you have a lovely birthday! I’m so grateful to call you a friend, you’re so kind and talented. I love you!! 

Originally posted by blackbeak

“[Y/N], is this yours?”

You turned to find Bucky holding your precious copy of the Hamiltome.

“Yes! Where’d you find it?”

He raised a brow at you. “So you’re not the one who left it in the middle of the boxing ring?”

He watched as you tried for a confused expression and tried not to laugh at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Hmm…I don’t recall, no.”

Keep reading

An alternative avenue to the Underworld arc and far more angsty end to 5A. Killian is gone and Emma is trying to pick up the pieces of her life when she starts getting strange signs that something is wrong.

Trigger warning for mental health issues and unintentional gaslighting.

~7000 words

red sky at morning.

Before coming to Storybrooke, Emma Swan had attended two funerals in her lifetime.

One was for work–she had a lead that her skip was going to be in attendance, and lo and behold, he’d shown up, predictable as clockwork. She’d tried to grab him as surreptitiously as possible, but had ended up knocking over the funeral tribute and giving the minister a concussion. (She’d ended up paid and the family didn’t press charges against her, so, in all, a win.)

The other had been for Maryanne Gilbert’s mom’s when she was in third grade. She’d been shuffled out of another home and into another school district when the second quarter of the school year had started. She’d only been there for about two or so weeks when Maryanne’s mother was killed in a car accident, and the whole third grade had been shuttled to the funeral in lieu of social studies that morning. It was weird, and Emma felt awkward and out of place because no one in class had really liked her and she had to sit through a funeral service for this woman she didn’t even know. But the one thing–the one thing that stands out to her in that memory is the crying. She’d never seen people just… cry. It’d always been something hidden, something heard through thin walls and muffled into pillows. Grief was strange, communal grief even stranger.

But now… she feels she can understand. It was difficult to bury Neal, but not… it was different.

Killian is another story.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What would be going through the guys mind as they raced to get to their s/o but as they look into their girls eyes know they would make it in time to save them, but She has a look of understanding (Haha sorry its so dark)

AH YES ANGST [I kinda went overboard with Donnie lmao]


He can’t keep his cool.

He yells as his running and your tipping off the edge, he doesn’t stray and just yells your name over and over like somehow if he yelled it loud enough it would keep you from falling. But it didn’t.

You locked eyes with him just seconds before you fell and his heart skipped, his breathe staggered and through misty eyes he knew you forgave him.

But he didn’t want forgiveness, he wanted you. To be okay and to be here, with him. He tried force himself to believe you didn’t fall. That you were okay and that he got to you in time because he was the hero. The leader. He could do things others couldn’t. He tried, tried so hard to believe you were okay.

But you weren’t. And he had to come to terms with that.

The next few weeks, he didn’t say much, ate almost nothing and there was nothing in his mind but those forgiving eyes. But he’s still so sorry.


He’s desperate.

His chest is tight with panic and he feels as if he can’t breathe.

That car hurtling towards you wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t stopping and your foot was stuck and he was racing to save you, desperately hoping beyond all hope.

But God had other plans for you.

Raph locked eyes with you, and you smiled. Your eyes shined in a way that gave him calm, but he couldn’t feel it with all the blood rushing through his head. He knew what you were trying to do. You knew he wasn’t going to able to get to you in time and he saw that look and understood. But he didn’t accept it. He didn’t want to.

Just before the truck hit you, he felt a lightning bolt of panic. Anger. He felt everything.

That truck hitting you.

The screaming he was doing, but not hearing.

And that forgiving look you gave him, it was like fire in his head, one that for the life him he will never able to put out.


Hope. He has a world of hope in his head that he could catch you before you were consumed by the explosion.

His eyes never left yours, the rapid beeping like shock-waves that made him push himself farther, harder.

He felt his mouth moving, but he couldn’t here himself saying your name because his eyes, his mind was on you.

And the look you were giving him.

The look that said “it’s okay, I know.”

The look that told him “I forgive you, Mikey.”

The look that he will never forget, “I love you.”

He was blown back by the shock-waves, the ringing in his ears like the twitters of a songbird. He was distraught. Unbelieving. He made a promise to you, that he would never let harm come to you. But he broke it. He couldn’t feel the tears bubbling in his eyes and streaming down his face. He knew they were there.

As his concerned brothers surrounded him, all he could let leave from his bleeding lips was your name.


He calculated. He mapped. He was sure of it. The tremors, the quakes before the storm. He knew what it all meant. He had everything thought out.

Except one factor. You.

He didn’t count on you wanting to surprise him with a new phone. He was counting on your appearance in the lair.

But you didn’t come and that’s what sent him rushing out into the open. He was always calculative. He always thought things through. But he could barely keep his balance, fraught with worry and panic as the ground cracked underneath him.

He spotted you. In the crowd of screaming people.

You were looking down and that’s what shook him to his core. You were going to fall.

He sprinted towards you, calling your name. Over and over, louder and louder still. He didn’t care if the screams turned to him. He didn’t care if the throngs of people saw him. All he knew was you.

And you looked to him. He was so far away but that look made him feel so very near. It was a look that understood. It was a look that tore his heart because he knew that you knew. He couldn’t save you.

You smiled at him and just before the ground crumbled beneath you, he lets out a strangled cry. He wasn’t counting on you dying today.

He wanted to grow old with you, he wanted nothing more than to see you come back to him. He always kicked around the bush and the small, black box in his pocket reminded him that the most precious person in his life is gone.


Her throat was sore. Her hands felt numb and her shoulders shook.

Just please hold on. Please for one minute more, Y/N.

You clung to the edge of the bridge with everything you had and there were tears in her eyes as you slipped further.

She couldn’t lose you. There wasn’t a chance. If you died she would go running, and kick down Heaven’s gate just to bring you back.

But then you slipped.

And it was so surreal. It seemed like an hour pasted between your hands slipping away and your eyes meeting hers.

Her lips seemed numb as she mumbled frantically, denying for her tears that you were gone.

But you were. You were had slipped before she could get to you.

Before she could tell you. Before she could hold your hands and see you smile. Before she could says those three words that were left dying in the back of her throat.

And the worst part was that you forgave her. And she knew it. And she hated herself for it.

Not a Damsel in Distress Part II (Bucky x Reader)

Okay guys, this is the second part of Not a Damsel in distress that I had saved in my google. Next I’ll post The Raid, which is a Dean x Reader I’m super proud of. I based it on 12.14 of Supernatural and it’s sort of my thoughts toward Mary during that episode channeled through the reader. 

Without further ado, Happy Reading!

Words: 4332

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Excerpt: After the usual morning rush, you stood bent over the materials on the counter, pen between teeth, and apron messy. Bucky wouldn’t realize it until later, but it was the exact same way he found you when he brought you that grilled cheese a little over a five months ago.  When he’d decided you were the girl for him.  Now, he only saw you tinted in red. There was no one in the shop, so now was his chance to confront you.  

Tags: @langinator @beccaanne814-blog @bovaria

Originally posted by in-perfectenschlag

Five Years Ago:

Bucky sat in his dorm room waiting for Dot to come back from her last class of the night.  This was it, he was going to do it now.  He had to do it now or he knew he never would.  Doing this, it was either going to rip him apart or be the best thing for him.  

Dolores was the love of his life, but recently things had changed and Bucky knew it.  He knew what this change was, Steve had told him what it was and Steve had also told him what to do about it.  However, Bucky was still hesitant. Could you blame the guy? As soon as Dot walked into his room, she’d see him, and she’d ask him what was happening and he’d have to do it.  

It was now or never.  

Keep reading

Sparks Chapter 20

Originally posted by theseromaniansarecrazy

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Sad stuff happens.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 67,000 words. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know

Keep reading

After Graduation

After Graduation
Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: so much fluff!

A/N: Trying out new things! Like writing about the actual actors and not their superhero selves and first time writing this way (: Let me know if you like it please! So I know to do more in the future!

She had a hard day at school. Finals was in two weeks, an essay due on Monday, presentations on Tuesday through Thursday, and a project due Wednesday. All she wants to do when she gets home was sleep. As she parks in her driveway, she grabs her phone and reads the text she wasn’t able to read while she was driving. It was from her boyfriend, Tom.
“I know you had a hard day sweetheart, I promise you it’ll get better today.”
She smiled softly as she reads the text and types back,“ I doubt it, I’m just going to sleep my stress away.”
She steps out of the car and walks to the front door. She was greeted by Tessa, Tom’s dog, who was staying over for the week. “Hey there sweetie,” she called, petting the precious pup. She makes her way upstairs and Tessa came hopping along. As she enters her room, she sees an unfamiliar piece of clothing on her bed. She walks towards it and Tessa jumps on the bed, also curious. It was a yellowy mustard colored sundress, next to it was a note.
“Hey love! I hope you like this dress I bought you, put it on and I’ll pick you up at 6! :)”
“A surprise date?"she thought out loud,” Did you know about this Tessa?“ Tessa looked at her with her adorable face and tilted her head the same direction she had her head titled. She let out a small laugh and gave Tessa a kiss on the head. "What time is it,"she says, looking at the alarm clock by her bed,” 3:20, hmm, I have less than 3 hours to get ready.“
"Should I look cute for him Tessa?"She asks, smiling at her smug little face. Tessa let’s out a small bark,” I’ll take that as a yes.“


2 hours passed by and she was all ready for her man to pick her up. It was around 5:20pm and she had her hair curled in soft ringlets, her eye lids were a sparkly peachy color, her lips were rosy pink, and she was wearing the cute sundress he gave her. Grabbing her brown sandals, she slipped them on and flopped down on the couch, waiting for Tom to come by.
*ding dong*
She ran to the door, but Tessa got there first. Unlocking the door and opening it, her handsome prince stood behind it.
"Wow,"they said in unison. Tom was dressed in a long sleeved, navy dress shirt that was rolled up right above his elbows, black pants, black shoes, and his hair was slicked back.
"You look lovely, baby,” he says, kissing her soft rosy lips.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she winks, making him let out a small laugh. “I brought you these,"he says holding out a bouquet of her favorite flowers. "Aww, babe,"she says,” thank you.“ She kisses his cheek, making him blush. They had been together since 8th grade, and now that they were about to graduate high school, it makes her happy that she can still make him blush like that. "Are you ready for our date?” He says, holding out his hand. She grabs it and gives him a small nod. He leads her to his car and opens the door for her like a gentleman. “Where are we going?"she asks. "It’s a surprise, darling. You’ll find out soon,"he says, looking behind him, backing up on her driveway. They drove for quite a while, he had one hand on the wheel, the other holding her hand. Tom began rubbing her ring finger, he was holding her left hand after all. She just looks at him and gives him a lovingly smile. He returns it, kissing her ring finger. "You see that darling,” Tom asks, pointing at the field of flowers they were passing by. She nodded, looking towards the flowers,“ they’re beautiful. Imagine just having a picnic there. Wouldn’t it be lovely?” Tom let’s out a small laugh, “yes, yes it would be.” He parks the car near the field. “Really?” she asks, surprised. “Yes really. I’ve been planning this for a while now. Ever since I passed by this place on the way to Harrison and I’s hiking trip. It reminded me of you.” She smiled and leaned it, pressing her lips against his. Tom smiles widely, she sees a bit of nervousness in his smile but she shrugs it off. He opens the door for her and helps her out, also grabbing the picnic basket and blanket from the trunk. They both walk a bit, finding a place almost half way near the center of the field. Setting the blanket down, she sits on the blanket, sitting on top of her legs. They eat for a bit but as the sun begins to set, Tom scoots in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She lays her head on his shoulder, both were watching the sun set and watching the pinks, purples, and oranges, paint the sky. “You know why I surprised you with this date?” “Because I was having a bad day and you wanted to make it better?” “Yes, but no. I’ve been planning this for a while now, you having a bad day was just a coincidence,” he laughs. She lifts her head up, her chin now resting on his shoulder, a puzzled look sketched on her face,“ then why?” Tom sighs and stands up, holding his hand out for her to grab. She grabs on to it, he lifts her up and they both stand there, hand in hand. “ (Y/n),” he says, kneeling down. She backs up on him slightly, mouth parting. “ We’ve been together since year nine, and we still are till year thirteen! Which is amazing how someone can stay with me for so long. You are my first love, and I want you to be my last.” He takes a small box out of his pocket,“ (Your while name), will you marry me?” A tear rolls down her cheeks and Tom lifts his hand up wiping it for her. Waiting for her to answer, he takes the ring out and holds it out to her,“ darling, I kind of need an answer.” She laughs and wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “Of course Tom.” She bends over and tackle him with a huge hug, causing him to fall over. While Tom lays there with her on top of him, she gives him a long, lovingly kiss. “So you finally listened to Beyoncé,” she giggles. He laughs, sitting up, pulling her onto his lap. “Yes- well, almost.” “Almost?” “Well if I like it I should’ve put a ring on it right?” He holds the ring out in front of her eyes,“ you haven’t put it on yet darling.” She covers her mouth and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, giggling a bit,“ oops.” She holds out her left hand for him to put the ring on. He slides it on, kissing the back of her hand gently. “So I guess we have our plans after graduation now, don’t we?” “I guess we do,” he smiles. With her hands on his cheek she says,“ I can’t wait,” before leaning in to kiss her fiancé.

She’s So Lovely - Trent Seven (Epilogue to Not Another Happy Ending and Make The Most Of It)

Originally posted by dumbsmartboy

I wasn’t going to write this but I wasn’t too happy with how part 2 ended. I promised myself that I’d give her and Trent a happy ending, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve written her dad as a complete dick towards Trent (I’m really glad not to have one like this one. Seriously, I’ve written this guy to be pure douchebag asshole). Think of this as my ‘thank you’ gift for reaching 200 followers.

The little playlist of songs that helped me write:

Tags: @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @wrestlingnoob@alexahood21 @imnobodiesbitch @logandemico @glamlover87 @baleesi @shieldgirl95 @na-nou83 @morgancorbin @lilmisscrisis @rollinsdar @damnbuvky @blondekel77 @imaginingwwesuperstars @mandi512 @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @imagineall-the-fandoms @oreillyskyle @thegenericluchadora @laochbaineann @rabidwrestlingfan @theholyfallenangel @nerdandwwegeek (If anyone wants to be added, let me know. If anyone wants to be removed, I won’t be offended lol)

The morning after their reunion, Trent woke up early to make her breakfast. She whined when she felt him get up but was hushed, a gentle kiss being pressed to her forehead. She joined him in the kitchen an hour or so later dressed in one of his shirts, the clothing absolutely drowning her with it’s size. His breath caught in his throat because he never thought he would see her like this again. Even with her messy hair, tired eyes and bruised neck (granted, those were his fault but he definitely did not feel guilty about them), she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. His phone had been blowing up all morning with messages from Pete and Tyler who were both letting him know that she had run from the wedding. In response, he gently pulled her to his side and raised their joined hands, taking a photo on his phone with the other hand. Ten minutes after sending the photo, he received a message from Tyler, a video attached. It was of the two younger men yelling at the camera about how it was about time that she sorted him out - they were sick of him asking how you were constantly.

They got back to the way they used to be almost instantly; never losing grip on one another’s hand as they walked down the street, her sitting front and centre at shows (which worked out pretty well in tag matches with Tyler as he would shake hands with fans on one side of the ring, Tyler on the other and they’d meet in the middle where she would high-five the younger man and Trent would pull her into a passionate kiss for good luck) and silly little romantic gestures from both parties. Such gestures included her leaving one of her wristbands in his bag to wear in the ring on the rare occasion that she couldn’t go with him to a show. He nearly took a guy’s head off with a clothesline when the bastard pulled it off of his wrist when he had him in a wristlock. Tyler had to hold Trent back despite secretly wanting to knock the other man’s teeth down his throat, knowing how difficult it could be for his friend not to have his girl with him, that the wristband was his way of having a piece of her close by and this prick had crossed the line by taking it. Trent had his own gestures for her, of course. He liked to bring her a postcard back from every new place he went and write something he loved about her on the back. She had a whole box full of the cards and they were some of her most treasured possessions. Pete would never admit it but he found it adorable that his friend was so persistent, making sure that he had purchased a postcard for his lady.

They were happy. Her father? Not so much. He despised Trent. Both of the couple remembered the day that she introduced him to her parents back in 2015 with a strange fondness.

Trent had shown up at her parent’s home dressed in his best, yet casual, suit, with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of white wine in his hands. She greeted him at the door, her mother not too far behind. Both wore grins. He handed the flowers to her mother who gushed about how he was so charming and handsome. His girlfriend swears to this day that she saw a blush on his face, no matter how much he denies it.

Sitting down for dinner, her father began his interrogation. It started off simple. He told him that he was from Wolverhampton, he was, at the time, 34 years old, the normal stuff. The question of what he did for a living should have been normal too but unfortunately, her father was less than happy. He had seen his daughter watching these wrestling matches when she was home. The last thing he wanted was for his precious angel of a daughter to be anywhere near the ‘scum’ of the wrestling world. The look he gave Trent was one that can only be described as vicious. Trent was just about able to ignore the snide remarks being directed towards him and hell, he knew Pete wouldn’t let the comments made about him get under his skin so neither should Trent. It was when Tyler was brought up that he finally snapped. Tyler was only 18 and like a little brother to him so, like any older brother would if he heard someone chatting shit about his younger sibling, he whacked him in the jaw. Her mother didn’t even try and stop him, knowing full well that her husband deserved it.

She didn’t know that he still had the engagement ring from the bedside table. He knew he wanted to propose properly but he also wanted to make it special. He had thought about maybe doing it after the UK Tournament, possibly in the ring. A ring in the ring? Kind of cute. God, she had been so proud of him when they found out he was going to be in the tournament. It had been a couple of months since they had gotten back together, just before Christmas, all of her stuff had been moved back into their small apartment. She had walked in on him crying after hanging up the phone.

“Babe, are you okay?” She called, walking into their shared bedroom. He was sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders lightly shaking.

“Yeah. These are happy tears, I assure you.” He turned his body to face her as she sat down next him. This was going to be amazing, not just for him but for the both of them.

“Why are you crying? Oh god, did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, love. I um…I just got off of the phone with someone about a really incredible thing that’s happening next month. It was…It was Triple H,” She covered her mouth with her hands, eyes already starting to tear up, “The WWE are holding a tournament to crown the inaugural WWE United Kingdom Champion. And they want me to be in the tournament.”

He couldn’t help but cry and now they were both in tears, holding one another. The pride rushed through her in waves because her man was finally being recognised by the biggest promotion in the world, all of his hard work had paid off.

“I am so proud of you and everything you have achieved. Tyler and Pete are going to be so happy for you.”

“I think they might get a bit jealous.” Less than a minute later, Trent’s phone buzzed twice, “Well, I don’t have to worry about that now. They both got a call too. British Strong Style is coming to the WWE.“

Obviously, Trent didn’t win the tournament. He didn’t propose either.

When he finally did, he had the help of the Bullet Club. Kenny, Matt and Nick were over in the UK and just so happened to be facing British Strong Style at FIght Club Pro. The Young Bucks were more than happy to help Trent. After all, lady was like their sister.

Following one hell of a show, Trent was able to have the use of the ring for a little while after the crowd had gone from the warehouse. Matt and Nick had to convince Y/N that they and Kenny wanted to go through some of the moves she had been working on. Luckily, she bought it and stuck around after the show.

Technically, they weren’t lying to her as they did start off by helping her with moves and it took about ten minutes before Trent worked up the courage to get in the ring with them. She was running the ropes at the time and definitely wasn’t expecting to turn around and see Trent on one knee, box in hand, both of the Jacksons with smirks on their faces.

“You bastards. You fucking tricked me!”

“Oh, shut up and listen to what the man has to say.”

Everything went quiet, other wrestlers crowding in the doorway to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

“Sorry about the ruse, darling. It’s taken me a little bit of time to figure out how to do this and with The Elite being over here, I thought this would be a good time. The very fact that you let me back into your life after the crap I put you through made me realise just how lucky I am. I get to go out and do what I love, all the while knowing that you’re back here for me to come home to. I would let the boys superkick the living shit out of me rather than do anything to hurt you ever again. And I know that we may never have a normal life because of what I do but I don’t think a ‘normal life’ is very us. So…if you’ll put up with me for the rest of our lives, Y/N Y/L/N…will you marry me?”

“Of course I will! Yes!” The sound of applause and cheering faded as Trent slipped the ring onto her finger and she pulled him into a kiss.


And that’s how they ended up here. They didn’t want to wait to have a big wedding, instead opting for a quiet affair with their family and friends. Her mother had come, refusing to miss her little girl getting married. Y/N had her ‘brothers’ walk her down the aisle, just like she wanted, and Trent had Pete and Tyler as his best men. He knew that looking into her eyes as she stood across from him, both having said their vows, he would go through everything again as long as it led to this.

A short and sweet reception and a taxi ride back to their stupid little flat was all that they wanted. They spent the rest of the night laughing and smiling, dancing around their living room to silly pop music.

“I love you. I always have.”

“I love you too. I always will.”