Here is a moodboard I made for @hysteriium (formerly known as clownsxclowns), based on her newest fanfiction, Something Bold and Something Blue. It’s about The Joker attending a wedding with the reader, taking place on a beach on the outskirts of Gotham.
Welcome back, love. We’ve all missed your wonderful content.
I LITERALLY CANT EXPRESS HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME AND FOR BEING THERE AND FOR BEING SO ENCOURAGING ABOUT MY WRITING! YOU’RE ALWAYS SO HONEST AND HAVE THE BEST IDEAS I LOVE YOU
As someone who grew up with the og Saturday cartoon I will say I’m not the biggest fan of the Netflix Winx show.
Bloom is not a likeable character in fact I’d hazard at comparing her to Denethor but that’s just me. Whatever. There’s some other stuff that could be potentially problematic, but I binged all of season one so it’s safe to say I like it - as a separate piece of work.
I WILL FUCKING SAY THOUGH. The best fucking scene is watching Farah, Saul, and Ben commiserating over some agave juice and war stories and acknowledging that these fucking teens think they’re so sneaky when these beautiful old fucks were in fact the ones that broke those rules first.
The thing that makes this worth it is the profs.
Please, Netflix, if you’re gonna give us anything more - give us more of that
today we’re thinking about Deku and his stundere wife .
Cw: Black fem reader, afab anatomy, light smut-like its mostly fluff but there’s the smallest sprinkle of smut, body descriptions.
Izuki Midoriya loves his mean wife.
No one can understand why he’s been with someone who seems so agitated with his existence for so long , but he really does. And you are mean.Always snapping at him about one thing or another .
He didn’t run an errand on time.
He forgot to take the dog out this morning.
The lawn isn’t mowed.
Popping him in his forehead because he didn’t pick the kids up from school or drop them off for clubs.
To other people you seem insufferable.
But for Izuku, its what other people don’tsee that’s got him so hooked.
They didn’t see way your brown eyes went as wide as saucers when he got down on one knee , or the the way your usually strong , steady voice faltered when you said yes (reluctantly of course)
or how your face lit up the first time you held your firstborn after pushing through eight hours of labor like a fucking champ. Beautiful brown lips curling up into the most delicate smile he had ever seen in his life.
Other people never get the privilege of hearing you rant about your favorite tv shows , spiky voice unusually calm. (Deku would never say it upfront , but he never knows what’s going on in any of the shows you like, no matter how many times you explain it to him, the only thing on his mind being your adorable voice.)
For as long as you’ve been married , he still dosent think He’s ever heard you say you loved him. You might have mumbled it once while he was dragging you to bed after you had too many drinks at a Christmas party but he isn’t too sure.
But the thing is ,Deku dosent need to hear you say you love him to know that you do.
He feels it in the chaste kisses you leave on his temple as you leave for work , early in the morning when you think He’s sleep. He never is.
He can taste it in the wonderful foreign dishes you have waiting for him on the dinning room table every day when he returns home from his hero agency, battered and bruised. Before you , he was sure his favorite food was Katsudon, but now its whatever you feel like blessing his palate with.
He sees it in how understanding you are, Never jumping down his throat when hero work keeps him busy ,not even when he misses anniversaries , or birthdays, or first days of school.
He knows you love him because of how tight you wrap your hands around his torso, tear streaked face planted in his chest , shaking because “you thought he might not make it home tonight.”
His entire body drips in your love when He’s balls deep inside your perfect cunt, the feeling of connection so sacred and warm, he thinks if given the chance , he might never leave. Your manicured nails scratching lines on his back, cutting deeper than any insult you could ever spit at him.
Yes, for Deku its what others don’t see that truly matters, because for all your nitpicking, fussing and borderline domestic abuse,
A night out with Ben, coming home in fits of giggles and stumbling to get through the door. Ben has his hands around your waist, he holds you close so you won’t fall over your own feet. Tonight he’s decided to take it easy on the drinks and lets you have the fun after a rough week.
Ben leaves the door unlocked; Joe’s coming soon, he promised he’d be back with pizza pies and French fries. Your hands are on his shoulders, his fingers playing with the straps of your feels, freeing you from the prison of the pointed prisons. You wiggle your toes in celebration.
“Come on, pretty girl, let’s get that makeup off your face,” Ben teases. Your eyes are lined with smudged mascara and eyeliner. With a lazy, goofy smile, you follow him into the bedroom.
He pushes you onto the bed before he disappears into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with your makeup wipes. He kneels in front of you, your hands running through his hair. “Can I get a kiss, baby?” you murmur.
“One kiss, love. You’ll get more after we clean you up, I promise,” Ben responds softly. He leans in, his lips capturing yours for a few seconds before he pulls away. “Close your eyes, baby.”
Eyes fluttered shut, he carefully pulls your lashes off. Your left lash on your left hand, right last on the right side so he’d remember which is which when he puts them back in their packaging. So softly he wipes off every bit of foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, bronzer, mascara, and eyeliner. He knows the bits he didn’t get, he’d get when he pulled you into the bathroom to wash your face. You giggle when he tenderly pats your under eye and he smiles.
Ben places your lashes in the packaging before he helps you slip off the dress and helps you into one of his shirt and your pajama pants. With your hands intertwined, he pulls you into the bathroom.
“You’re going to have to help me here, baby,” he whispers. Ben brushes your hair back and pulls it into a messy bun. You turn the facet on, splashing your face and wait for him to rub the facial wash into your skin, removing every remaining bit of makeup and grime from your pores. You splash off the soapy foam and he pats your face dry, his hands patting your moisturizer in and applying your chapstick because he knew it was a ritual of yours after wearing matte lipstick.
“thank you, baby,” you thank him tiredly. His lips press to your forehead and he quickly changes himself before he leads you back to the kitchen where Joe sits, a slice of pizza hanging from his mouth.
Imagine a nice embrace from your f/o. It is comforting, warm, welcoming, safe. You both feel a sense of protection and contentment knowing that you can both enjoy the presence of each other without the pressure to change yourselves. You are loved, appreciated, accepted. You make them feel this way too.
