#babys first (relatively) big post...

[almalex24]

congrats to the french fry post for getting 5000 notes

[arolesbianism]

Shakes and cries I wanna make Jackie parent hc designs but I can't because potentially one of them is a prevalent character now and her ass has not spoken a single line yet so I both know nothing and can't just start making shit up yet </3333

[digiflora]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘!

ꪆৎ choso ⸝⸝ sukuna ⸝⸝ gojo ⸝⸝ ino wc.

summary. life as a streamer creates all sorts of potential interactions- whether between other creatives, or just some random person in a csgo lobby...

contains! ꪆৎ streamer au ⸝⸝ cosplayer reader (choso) ⸝⸝ some suggestiveness + downbadness lmfao ⸝⸝ nerdjo my beloved

𐔌 gia's notes! ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) woioi chat. i've been on such a 2020 first lockdown nostalgic kick recently im ngl... hence the title of this fic LOL. and lowkey the content too 😞 you can kinda tell that i ran out of steam while writing this... but o well

streamer!choso [@/ch0k4m0] who is relatively well known- technically, for his gaming abilities, though what solidified his online fame was his rather candid commentary, with seemingly no filter between his thoughts and the words that come out of his mouth. that, and his looks which had broken the internet when he had face revealed, catapulting him from a fairly unknown but well loved streamer to regularly getting hundreds of thousands of views on his streams.

his current streams mostly consisted of him working his way through resident evil. viewers could expect to see a decent progression within each stream due to choso not being completely useless at playing the game, alongside his dumb comments diminishing the fear factor of the franchise ever so slightly. and of course, his ever so subtle crush on the character ada wong.

'chat oh my GOD i've never been so in love with some pixels before'

'ada baby please, just one chance. i know that i'm 3d and you're 2d but we'll make it work'

every time a cutscene of her plays, there's an absolute torrent of messages and donations teasing him for his poorly hidden crush, ones that choso takes the time to properly read through during his breaks in the stream. such an occasion happens now, with choso reading out some random comments when a new donation rings out, the text to speech voice that comes with it bearing a demand

'choso you need to look up this account RIGHT NOW and look at the video they just posted'

his brow furrows as he reads the username, deliberating on whether he should actually follow those instructions or if his viewer was just trying to mess with him. ultimately, he conceded to his chat's wishes and opened a new browser window, typing it in.

a mere few hours later after the stream, you found your notifications to be blowing up more than usual. you had posted a new cosplay video earlier today, but even then there was a little TOO many notifications to be your usual audience. you noticed that you had been tagged in an edit, inclining you to click on that before wading through the likes and comments. every time that you received one it was a special kind of joy, with the knowledge that someone enjoyed your cosplays enough to inspire them to make something. you hear the music begin to fade in once the edit loads, though the intro clip has you confused as you don't think that you've seen it before.

obviously, you recognise choso, the handsome and funny streamer who got really popular recently, and one that you have unfortunately joined many others in appointing as your resident e-crush. you weren't big on watching streams, but every time a clip of choso appears when you scroll, you can't help but watch the whole thing, partially for its entertainment value, and partially because of just how cute the guy looked on your phone screen.

so really, it was quite the surreal experience to hear your username fall from his lips as the clip plays on your phone, and you watch the edit in disbelief

'am i spelling this right, chat?'

'and the latest video, right- oh it's, holy fuck-"

the beat then kicks in. clips of your ada wong cosplay flashing across the screen, one final flashbang of choso's face as he watches your video with an almost comical expression of awe. you're left absolutely flabbergasted as the video begins to loop, clicking on the comments to see what the hell was going on

'get in damn line choso 😩'

'BROOOODJFNSJG I WAS WATCHING THE STREAM AND I JUST KNEWWWWW SOMEONE WAS GONNA MAKE AN EDIT WITH THAT CLIP 😭😭😭'

'the stream was like 2 hours ago this edit was so fast wtf'

'it should have been meeeeeee ughhh'

'the way choso scrolled thru her ENTIRE account and then followed her... that man's finally got a crush on a real personnnnn'

that last comment captures your attention specifically, and sure enough, you see his username amongst your many new followers. it pays to get noticed by a popular streamer, you suppose.

and then, to your utmost surprise, you also see his name pop up within your dm requests

@/ch0k4mo: sooo are you in need of a leon kennedy by any chance

the dm isn't exactly suave, but it has its intended effect as you blink at your screen as you process it, finally letting out a squeal of excitement, screenshotting the message shamelessly. your friends are not gonna believe this. and then, only after running laps around your room and waiting for your erratic heartrate to return to a normal tempo, you type out a shaky response.

@/yn: funny that you ask that, cos i had a few video ideas in mind ;)

you can only hope that on the other end of the line, choso is having a somewhat similar reaction to yours.

streamer!sukuna [@/kingkuna] who is notorious for causing chaos online, whether on fps games such as cs and valorant, or even on the more inane roblox games where he makes a living off of terrorising little kids. actions speak louder than words, though the streamer is quick to utilise both when instilling terror on whichever server has the misfortune of having him

'i do this for the love of the game, chat'

'well, that, and because bullying little runts is fun'

all of these actions, streamed live every wednesday and friday, helped to garner sukuna a rather.... distinct reputation.

despite being considered an asshole for all intents and purposes, sukuna had somehow amassed a following, all from his persona of being an online troll.

so this week's particular stream was especially shocking to his fans for all of the wrong reasons.

it started off like any other stream, sukuna casually reading off the odd message in his chat whilst preparing for the stream, retorting some snarky comment that has the chat getting more and more riled up, all with a shit-eating grin on his face.

it was more or less a love-hate relationship between him and his chat, though everyone seemed happy with the dynamic, expecting no less from the streamer.

this stream in particular was particularly anticipated, if the steadily increasing viewcount in the corner was anything to go off of, probably due to the fact that this wasn't quite like his other streams. despite the countless hours of his content, very little was known about sukuna, and as a 1 million subscriber goal, the man had acquiesced to people's demands for a q&a.

it started off as well as it could have, with rather generic questions rolling out. but of course, knowing sukuna's audience (and his lenient moderators), some raunchier ones started to worm their way through

'does it... jiggle when i walk? mods, get this clown out of here'

sukuna rattles through the questions, his fans clearly revelling in his embarrassing childhood stories, in the knowledge that his hair is not dyed, and how he views his streams as training to continue defeating his nephew in fortnite whenever they play together.

and then, finally, the fated question

'kingkuna i have to know for all the ladies out there... do u have a gf??'

it's a special donation message, one that rattles off loud and clear in a way that absolutely cannot be missed, though with the amount of time it takes for him to respond, he may as well have.

'hm, wouldn't you like to know?'

there's a torrent of outraged messages, before a deep booming laugh emits from the man.

'ehhh, i'm just fucking with you. of course i do, she's my forever girl.'

there's another torrent of messages in chat, though they're now oohing and ahhing at just how uncharacteristically sweet the streamer is being. his eyes flit over the incoming messages, his grin widening as his gaze lifts to somewhere beyond the webcam's reach.

there's a silent exchange, no words needed before sukuna reclines back in his chair, his legs spreading as he makes room for whoever's coming into frame.

'she's right here, too. everyone say hi to y/n'

and when she situates herself right on his lap and his arm wraps around her waist, the chat goes crazy. the streamer seems to remember his regular image, cackling at the desperate onslaught of messages eager to get even a morsel of information about the two of you, instead starting to click away at the preparations needed before he ends the stream

'oh would you look at the time, looks like i'll be having to end the stream now. see you suckers on wednesday'

'byeeeee!'

you can't help but chime in, giggling and waving right at the camera before the stream shuts off, and you feel sukuna begin to truly relax into his chair, shuffling you impossibly closer to his chest, hugging you to him and burying his face against you.

'aww, you big baby'

'dunno what you're talking about'

you giggle at your boyfriend's antics, though definitely used to them by now. instead, you get comfy, letting sukuna use you as his personal pillow as you card through his hair with one hand, the other unlocking your phone and you begin to scroll through twitter. #kingkuna1m was already trending thanks to the premise of his livestream, and you can't help but click on the tag, looking through some of the most recent tweets.

'never would i EVER have expected SUKUNA of all ppl to be relationship goals'

'praying on his downfall fr 🙏🙏🙏 he doesn't know how good he has it'

'he's so EVIL for ending the stream like that omfg'

'the way he looks at her IM SICKKKKK ☹️☹️☹️☹️'

that last one comes with a video, a hasty screen recording of those last few moments of the stream as you wave at the camera, though you're focusing on the shamelessly lovestruck expression on sukuna's face as he watches you. it's enough to have you giggling and kicking your feet right in his lap, and he grumbles, his spare hand catching onto your flailing ankle

'quit squirming, brat'

'but you're just so cute, kunaaa'

you show him your phone screen, and it's your turn to study his face as he looks at the video impassively, though he can't hide the little twitch of his lips.

'my camera must be faulty, gotta get a new one'

streamer!gojo [@/sago] who is affectionately known by his fans for being a big fat nerd. it's not like he tries to hide it, the background of his setup decorated avidly with all sorts of posters and memorabilia from his favourite shows and games. compared to other streamers, too, gojo wasn't one to particularly shy away from details of his personal life, his laidback and easygoing persona making it easy for people to become regular viewers of his streams.

on said streams it was commonplace for his chat to ask him questions about himself, and more often than not he would give them an answer- and on one of these such occasions is when he let slip the fact that he had a roommate. and that in itself isn't anything too worldbreaking to hear, but it's the way he almost lights up as he mentions your name that has his fans intrigued.

even more interesting is gojo's reluctance, for lack of a better word, about relinquishing more information about you. how quick he is to change the subject, or act as if he never read the original message at all.

and in an impressive effort which has the streisand effect in strong contention to be renamed to the gojo effect, this only further instils a need for his fans to know everything that they possibly could about you.

it's arguably one of his most well-loved bits with an incredibly long longevity, with a large amount of fanmade compilations of him at least alluding to it

'who's my roommate? i'll let you know when i find out'

'come back with a warrant, fed'

'that's some very personal information there which i would be hesitant to spread online. what do you MEAN i was telling you all about where i grew up 2 minutes ago-'

(you get the picture)

therefore, it's a rare and delightful treat whenever a new tidbit about you is let slip by the streamer. the day that your name got accidentally revealed by him on stream was a day for the books. and of course, since gojo's fans were deranged, your insta account and subsequent face reveal were soon to follow.

and once the cat was out of the bag, gojo seemed to begrudgingly relax about your secrecy. you started popping up in streams a bit more often, usually just a face peeking in to the room of gojo's setup, a sneaky wave that satoru would notice later and grin to himself about. he's got a highlight reel of your appearances on his twitch profile that he likes to rewatch more than he cares to admit.

one time, he even had you sat next to him during a just chatting stream, the two of you shooting the shit. his fans were quick to point out how red the tips of his ears were throughout the whole stream. and how he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars whenever you spoke. and how he kept looking at you like that even when you weren't speaking.

it was never official, but satoru's feelings for you were.. rather obvious to anyone with the time to tune in to his streams. his touchiness regarding you seemed to make a lot more sense now, and became the newest aspect of satoru's life for his chat to ruthlessly mock.

today was just a regular stream- some mindless shooter game that satoru was way too invested in, no mentions or guest appearances of you. until now.

the door opened in the background of the stream- satoru's eyes flick up just before the door even moves, as if he had a sixth sense just for you- and you storm into the room, closer to annoyed than your usual cheery self.

'toru, you forgot to take out the bins. they're being collected tomorrow so don't leave it too late

and just like that, you're gone again. there's not even an ounce of hesitation before satoru is getting up from his desk, headphones coming off despite the yells of his teammates for him to stop fucking around and help them rush a.

chat is making their usual comments, a spam of their love for you and excitement that you've made an appearance. a few keener watchers were geeking over the toru nickname that's sure to make their way into the next y/n and gojo compilation video.

and despite all of this, satoru's heading out of the room.

'my girl's mad at me guys, i gotta go fix it'

and he's only gone for a few minutes, at most. but it's like an implosion of oncoming messages, all scrolling past his screen with no eyes to see them.

gojospinkietoe: FIRST TORU THEN MY GIRL!!!???? OHHHH MY GOD 🥺🥺🥺

iwatchmen: the gojoyn fans are gonna loveeee this

gojoyn5evrrr: SOMEONE CLIP THAT

funnily enough, satoru doesn't even realise the slipup until he's almost back to his room. at least he can blame the blush this time on having to have gone outside very briefly.

it's not exactly the same as his usual slipups when it comes to you- usually, there's at least an element of truth to them, but this appears to be sourced from somewhere deeper in his brain, a lot more of a subconscious desire that he hoped wouldn't breach into the conscious realm.

not until he was ready, at least.

streamer!ino [@/yunglean4ever] who's more of an up and coming streamer.. but he's slowly and steadily making his way up the rankings!! his game of choice is usually an fps, with his default usually being csgo. or something like that. he enjoys the straightforward nature of it. and teabagging his opponents when he's in the mood to be a little shit.

during these livestreams he's met many a different player, some friendlier than the regular silence or automatic irritated mood that most seemed to have- or some russian guy screaming words into the mic that was anyone's guess as to what it meant.

and while interacting with said teammates is always a promising aspect of entertainment, ino wasn't one to remember most of these interactions, save for a few especially distinct ones.

one such occasion is when he meets you. you've got your mic on, which is always more appealing for ino than having to communicate via typing or reading chats, and even better is the almost instant connection that the two of you make. you giggle at his silly username, he indignantly defends his love for drain gang, and the rest is history.

one match played together turns into a friend request, which turns into becoming a party, which turns into playing duos, which turns into goving each other your discords, which turns into many more rounds which extend way after ino ends his stream.

it was merely a start to this new... something, but with the way that ino caught himself laughing a little too hard at your mildly funny jokes, he had a feeling that it would turn into something much more.

so when he boots up his pc the next day, it's not much surprise to him that there's some giddy emotion that he feels when he says a message from you

'wanna play? had a lot of fun last night w u :D'

he couldn't type out a response fast enough to contain his excitement.

⋆˚࿔ jjk masterlist

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ... or, try reading hopelessly devoted to you

[animatewarriorcats]

Beavers! I had this one on file now for a couple years, and was waiting until I redid Dovewing's design to post it haha, whoops. I know the journey books are kind of annoying in warriorcats but the Beavers were an addition I found very interesting! A beaver damn can vastly change the landscape of a river system for miles downstream, so the premise is plausible at least, and it was an interesting way to demonstrate the magnitude of Dovewing's powers of perception to perceive things beyond the capabilities of a normal creature of any kind. I don't know where the beavers ended up going, hopefully they're doing well wherever they ended up setting up their new lodge.

Beavers are actually very docile most of the time. Being the largest North American rodent, they have the instincts of a prey species with not many predators that can easily take on a lodge and come away unscathed. Domestic cats in particular would have a pretty tough time defeating beavers, as adult beavers can easily head to head against Lynx and coyotes, sometimes even Cougars if numbers are on their side. They are most vulnerable in the first two years of their life, which will be spent entirely with their birth family lodge where the protection of numbers increases their chance of survival. In terms of size, They are born about the size of a two month old kitten, less than a pound but about a foot long nose to tail, and spend the first couple months inside the lodge where they can play both on dry land and the water inside a safe enclosure. They grow relatively quickly, by the time they are three months old they will weigh close to 4kg or 8 lbs, already a decent size to contend with a small cat, but still very much a baby. By their age of independence at about two, they can weigh upwards of 30 lbs or nearly 14 kg. Beavers also never reach a growth peak, and can become truly massive, upwards of 100lbs/45kg. The fact that the clan cats were able to move beavers with a patrol of 8 cats is a little bit extraordinary, but we will pretend that Lionblaze pulled some super strength and that's why they succeeded haha.

I have here some photos of beavers, on the left is a hunter with a large specimen to demonstrate how big they can get though I don't love or condone hunting haha. In the center I tried to show how different in size adults and offspring can be, and on the right are three different cats near beavers, all of which seem to be quite young, the top one I know for sure from the youtube channel was just a few months old at the time of this image.

[janeyseymour]

All To Myself

requested by @schemmentisbaby

Summary: Your little girl is getting ready to go to Abbott- not that your wife's coworkers know.

WC: ~3.6k

Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary, your wife, and mother to your beautiful little girl: Grace Marie. Melissa Schemmenti, a woman who rarely talks about herself, so all that her coworkers know about her is that she’s married- and even then, she wishes they didn’t know that. It’s not that she has anything to hide or like she’s ashamed of you, but after growing up the way that she did, she’s learned that keeping her mouth shut about personal information is probably for the best. The fact that people know she’s a Schemmenti holds enough weight as it is.

Your wife has been able to keep it quiet that she has a little girl due to the fact that while she is present on Facebook, and so are you, there are very few people that she has on there. The only people that she’s so graciously allowed to friend her on that social media app are you, her family (yes, Kristen Marie included), and one Mrs. Barbara Howard. Those that are present on your social media aren’t aware of the weight that your last name now holds, having grown up just outside of Philly in the suburbs. So when you post images or updates on how your life is going, it doesn’t much matter, and Melissa doesn’t mind.

The second grade teacher has been relatively successful at keeping the personal and professional lives from mixing. That is going to change though, because Gracie is getting ready to head into kindergarten at none other than Willard R. Abbott Elementary School.

“Hun,” you sigh to your wife quietly as the two of you begin to grasp the fact that Grace is going to be attending your wife’s workplace.

“I just didn’t think it was going to be happening so soon,” Melissa mumbles. “I mean, it’s like she was born yesterday, and now she’s getting ready to enter kindergarten.”

“You’re telling me,” you chuckle. “I feel like we were hearing her heartbeat for the first time, and now we’re getting ready to send our baby to school.”

“Jesus, we’re gettin’ old.”

As it turns out, Grace is more than excited to be heading to school- she’s so excited to see the place where her mother works, and she can’t wait to be a big kid. And luck just so has it that your daughter is placed in her Aunt Barbie’s class.

“I get to be with Aunt Barbie all day?!” Grace squeals out with excitement when you tell her who her kindergarten teacher is.

You can’t help but chuckle at how precious she is. “You do, but at school she’s Mrs. Howard, yeah?”

Your little girl nods her head with enthusiasm. “When do I get to go?”

“School starts in two weeks, but Mommy goes in next week,” Melissa tells your little girl at the dinner table. “And on that Wednesday, they have a special night for kindergarteners to meet their teachers and get familiar with the school.”

“I can’t wait for school!”

“Oh, but I can,” your wife grumbles so that only you can hear her.

The day before Melissa goes back to Abbott for professional development days, she’s a bit more moody than usual. Because of this, your little girl spends most of the day with you. The redhead is stressed beyond belief trying to ensure that she has everything packed into her car to take to the school for the new year. She’s focusing on meal prepping so she can just grab things and go. Her outfit for whatever reason is stressing her out more than it usually would.

“Honey,” you mumble as she stands in your closet staring at all of her shirts. You wrap your arms around her waist and set your chin on her shoulder before kissing her neck gently. She hums as she leans into your affections.

“What has you so worked up tonight?” you prod gently. “Usually you don’t care what you wear to work.”

“I just… these are the last few days where my coworkers will see me as just Melissa, not Grace’s mother,” she admits. “Reminds me I’m gettin’ older.”

“We are getting older,” you remind her. “But that just means that we’re one step closer to retirement, to having a beautiful daughter to take care of us, more years of love under our belt.”

Your wife sighs softly and cranes her neck to look at you. “How do you always know what to say to help calm me down?”

“We’ve been married for years,” you chuckle. “Practice.”

The next morning, Grace cannot for the life of her understand why she doesn’t get to go with Melissa to her new school. She’s gotten herself dressed and ready, adorned with the backpack that is just about the size of her, and her new sparkly shoes.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs as she kneels down to pull your daughter into a hug. “Mommy has to go do boring things at the school. Trust me when I tell you, you would rather stay with Momma and play at home for these last few days.”

“But I want you!” your little girl pouts. “I want Aunt Barbie!”

“And you’ll get me tonight,” Melissa tries to placate. “And I will talk to Aunt Barbie and see if she can come over today after work to play for a little bit, how does that sound?”

That seems to satisfy your daughter who comes bouncing over to you. She curls into your arms as your wife makes her way out the door.

At work, the redhead is happy to see her work wife, but she isn’t necessarily thrilled to be back at work for the school year.

“I saw Gracie’s name on my list for this year,” Barbara whispers to her friend when she’s certain no one else can hear.

“She’s real excited to have you as her kindergarten teacher,” Melissa chuckles softly. “She’s asking for you already. I told her I would see if you could come over after work today.”

“She’ll be sick of me by the end of this year,” the kindergarten teacher laughs.

Green eyes are rolled. “I doubt that. I’m fairly certain my kid loves you more than she loves me or Y/N.”

“You know your little girl has the most love for her mothers,” Barb smirks. “And then of course for Aunt Barbie. I’ll be there.”

“And I’m going to need every hand on deck for kindergarten orientation on Wednesday,” Ava announces. “This is the biggest class to come through Abbott since the 90s.”

“No can do,” Melissa states in front of everyone. “Have business I need to take care of, and it ain’t like you’re payin’ me.” She shoots her boss a look that dares her to challenge.

The principal quirks her lips to the side before rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. “Every hand on deck except for Red Hot.”

After the workday is done, the kindergarten and second grade teachers make their way back to your house. You and your little girl are sitting in the living room reading a book when you hear the front door open and close. All thoughts of the game are abandoned when Gracie jumps to her feet and goes to the door as fast as her little legs will take her. She launches herself at Melissa, who catches her with ease. Then she’s throwing herself at Barbara, who has just barely kneeled down to embrace her.

“How’s my baby girl?” Barbara asks as she kisses your daughter’s head.

Your little girl soaks up the attention. “Good! I want to go to school though.”

“Well, that comes next week, but I’m sure Mommy’s told you about how you’ll get to come see my classroom in a few days.” When Grace nods with excitement, Barbara continues. “And I know at home I’m Aunt Barbie, but at school I have to be Mrs. Howard. Think you can remember that for me, baby?”

“Pinky swears,” your daughter holds out her pinky with a grin.

“That’s my girl,��� the kindergarten teacher smiles as she links pinkies with your little girl. “Now, what are we going to do today?”

Come Wednesday, after a long day of professional development in the morning and prepping for open house on Thursday, Melissa comes home to you and your excitable daughter.

“Mommy!” Grace goes running over to the front door, abandoning her station to help you prepare dinner.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs happily as she lifts your daughter to her hip. “My beautiful girl.”

Grace giggles incessantly as the teacher pecks her cheeks continuously. Then your wife is making her way over to you.

“My gorgeous wife,” she whispers as she kisses you softly. “You’re the best.”

“I’m making your favorite,” you tell her quietly as you lean in to kiss her again.

Grace makes a face at your affections. “Ew, moms. Stop kissin’!”

The two of you roll your eyes in a playful manner. “You know I just love your momma so much,” Melissa laughs that low laugh that you find irresistible. She kisses you again.

“Are you ready to go see Aunt Barbie and your new school?” the redhead asks gently as she sets your daughter back down on the chair you have pulled up to the counter.

“Mrs. Howard,” Grace corrects with a toothy smile as she picks up the spoon to begin mixing the salad again.

Melissa rolls her eyes and pokes your daughter in the belly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

After dinner, your family makes their way down to Abbott. Grace clings to your hand the entire time. At the thought of going to a new school, she was excited. But now that the time is upon her, she’s nervous.

“It’ll all be okay, Gracie girl,” Melissa promises. “You know Mommy wouldn’t work here or let you go here if it wasn’t a good place to be.”

That seems to settle your daughter’s nerves just slightly, but she still remains close to you.

You and Grace walk in and head right to the little check in, knowing immediately where to go. Barbara just smiles and checks off your daughter’s name before greeting your wife who is trailing a few paces behind.

“Melissa!” you hear the boisterous voice of the principal of the school. “You said you wasn’t coming!”

Your wife just rolls her eyes and shrugs. “What can I say?”

The incoming class of kindergarteners are ushered into the gym for a quick presentation of teachers that they might come across throughout the school year. Of course, Barbara is up on the stage with all of the kindergarten teachers, but so is your wife and the rest of her work crew, as well as some other staff members that she rarely mentions.

Once that’s over with, they begin to move the children down to the classrooms that they’ll be spending most of their time in for the year. Grace takes your hand gently and guides you towards the correct line.

Abbott is a special school, you can see that just by walking through the halls. It’s filled with artwork from students, there are several plaques with various award titles on them, the teachers who are helping to guide students around are warm. Aside from the odd lingering smell, you can understand why Melissa works here and has worked here for years. 

Your wife lingers in the room under the guise of just helping out her work wife- it makes sense to the rest of the staff that she would go with Barbara. Grace finds her desk with ease, knowing all of the letters in her name. She squeals with happiness when she sees the few little goodies that Mrs. Howard left on the students’ desks.

“Momma,” your little girl tugs on your shirt. “Sit with me?”

You oblige her request with a smile, settling in her chair before pulling her on top of you. Grace brightens and gives your wife a thumbs up before beginning to color the princess page Barbara had placed there. You can’t help but press a soft kiss to your girl’s temple before looking up at your wife with a smile. She’s absolutely precious. Melissa tries to hide the fact that she was sneaking a picture of the two of you, but it’s no use. Her cheeks tint just slightly red before shrugging her shoulders with a bashful smile.

The rest of your daughter’s class settles in and is allowed to color for a few moments while Barbara and Melissa chat with parents- no doubt answering questions that will surely be answered within the next few minutes.

Your wife’s boss makes her way into the classroom, and she eyes the redhead warily before teasing her. “I shoulda known you’d find your way into Barb’s classroom.”

“Well, she is-”

“I don’ care,” Ava states. She turns to scan the room, and her eyes immediately land on you. She winks.

You have to fight to roll your eyes. It’s funny that she chose you to focus in on, but it will be even funnier when she realizes that she just hit on her shadiest teacher’s wife.

Before the principal can say anything too out of line, Barbara claps her hands together and begins her spiel about herself as a teacher, the classroom that the students will be in, and the school itself.

Grace seems more than content to sit in your lap and color quietly while Melissa nods along to the things that her work wife is saying. She knows it all already, but it’s nice hearing what will be expected of your little girl while she’s in Barb’s classroom.

“And now, while the parents are filling out the paperwork necessary for the beginning of the school year, I figured I might take the students on a walking tour of the areas in the school that they’ll be in,” the kindergarten teacher explains with a clap of her hands. “So, we’re going to practice lining up and walking in the hallways like big kindergarteners.”

She manages to line up the entire class quietly before walking them out the door with Melissa. You sigh and begin to quietly fill out the paperwork for your little girl. It’s a while before you hear footsteps come back into the room, just as you’re getting ready to write down Melissa’s name under the second guardian spot. When you look up, you expect to see Barbara, your wife, and the students in tow. Instead, it’s Ava again, and she’s looking directly at you- you can practically feel her eyes on you.

“Does anybody have any questions about Abbott?” the principal asks.

A few hands go up, but she blatantly ignores them. She points to you. “What about you, angel face?”

Your brow goes up. “I think I’m all good, but thank you.”

“Surely you can’t know everything there is to know about this school,” Ava frowns. “You have to have at least one question.”

“Not that I can think of,” you tell her. If you do think of a question, you doubt she’ll know the answer to it anyway.

“Is that little girl of yours your first one to go through Abbott?”

You nod. “But I know all about this school.”

“Oh?” Ava smirks. “You did your research?”

Instead of telling her that your wife is Melissa, you just nod. Sure, you had done your research and asked your wife about the building, but you know the ins and outs of this school- the things that go on behind the scenes. 

You think that’s the end of the conversation and start to write “Mrs.”, but she makes her way further into the room, and she stands over you sitting at a student desk.

“Where’s the wife?” Ava asks you as she leans against the desk. She drapes a gentle hand over your wrist. “Because I know someone as fine as you has one.”

You look up to her with a smirk before beginning to write down Melissa’s name.

Almost comically, the principal gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. She stands straight up. “You ain’t telling me Melissa is your wife, are you?!”

With impeccable timing, Melissa walks back into the classroom with Barbara and the kindergarteners. 

“I am,” is all your wife states as she folds her arms over her chest and stares down her boss. “Why? You got something to-”

“Bye, y’all,” Ava runs out of the classroom as quickly as she had come in.

Barbara just looks to you with the silent question of if the principal was flirting with you, and you nod subtly.

Your wife sees red for a split second before she makes her way over to you with your daughter and wraps her arm around the top of your shoulders.

“Idiot,” Melissa grumbles as she plants a kiss to the top of your head. “Flirting with my wife like that.”

You reach up a hand and lay yours gently over hers. “She didn’t know because you didn’t tell her.”

“‘Cause she has no business knowin’ about my personal life,” your wife mutters.

“She will now,” you remind her. “Grace is goin’ here now, and you know that Ava’s gonna open her mouth about it the first chance she gets.”

“Which will be once everyone is out of the school, and we somehow get corralled into helping break everything,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

It’s a bit of time before Ava makes the announcement that all families should head out of the building to allow the teachers to get home for the night. But when you think that Melissa is going to try to book it out of there as quickly as possible, she begins to help her work wife straighten up her classroom.

You know that the two of them are quite close, but it is something else to see them working together in silence. It’s like how you and Melissa work- in sync, with ease, naturally.

And then the rest of the group begins to come in, asking questions before they even fully enter the room to see you and your little girl sitting quietly on the carpet reading a book together. Okay, you’re reading, but Grace is touching each word as you read.

You pause your reading as the boisterous group comes in. Their eyes immediately go to you, and they halt their questioning.

“I’m sorry,” a shorter woman, who you can only assume is Janine, speaks quietly. “I didn’t realize you still had a student in the room.”

“They’re fine,” Melissa cuts in before anyone else can say anything. “They’re with me.”

Gregory furrows his brow. “Why would they-”

“Melissa Schemmenti, when the hell was you goin’ to tell us you have a daughter that was going to come to Abbott?!” the principal yells as she struts in. “And that your wife was fine as-” She cuts herself off at the challenging look green eyes give her.

“They’re with me because that’s my wife and my daughter,” the redhead points to the two of you. “Gracie, come say hi to Mommy’s friends.”

Your little girl jumps out of your lap and runs over to your wife, who lifts her onto her hip with ease. “I’m Gracie, and I’m five!” she holds out an entire hand for emphasis. Her smile is enough to melt their hearts.

“Oh, Mel Mel, she’s so cute,” Jacob grins as he high fives your daughter.

“Mi amore,” Melissa jerks her head for you to come over.

“Y/N,” you smile that charming smile of yours as you wrap an arm around the Melissa. “Mrs. Schemmenti, if you will.”

“How the hell didn’t we know about this now?” Mr. Johnson wrinkles his nose. “That’s a load of bull… trash.”

Emerald eyes are rolled. “Because the boss don’t look at the rosters to know who’s comin’ in.”

“I did!”

“Did you?” Janine narrows her eyes as she looks to the principal. 

Ava looks offended. “So what if I did or did not? Overseeing an entire school is hard! It ain’t my fault Melissa never told us she had a daughter!”

“You didn’t tell them about me?” Grace frowns, and she looks a bit wounded by that knowledge.

“Mommy just wanted you all to herself,” your wife promises as she dots a few kisses along your daughter’s hairline.

That seems to placate your daughter, who snuggles right back up to the redhead before yawning. “Aunt Barbie is my teacher.”

“She is,” you chuckle as you smooth down a few of her wild locks. “But at school she’s Mrs. Howard, remember?”

“Mrs. Howard is my teacher,” your little girl yawns out.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Melissa chuckles softly. She looks to you. “Are you about ready t’head out?”

You nod and grab your purse from where Grace will be sitting next Monday. “Well, it was really nice to finally meet you all,” you chuckle out. “I know she’s in good hands here at Abbott.”

The group seems to have more questions for the redhead that is quickly escorting you out, but she ignores them and ushers you out.

Just as you’re leaving, Ava shouts down the hallway, “Girl, don’t think we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout how youse are milfs tomorrow!”

There’s a loud chorus of “Ava!” that can be heard right after. You have to hide the smile. You’re already well aware that your wife is hot.

“Momma?” Grace looks to you with curious eyes.

“Yeah baby?” you ask.

“What’s a milf?”

“Ava is dead tomorrow,” your wife grumbles.

“You love your boss, and your coworkers,” you remind her.

Melissa sighs heavily. “They’re freakin’ lucky.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING REUNITED !!! SEBASTIAN V. X FEM!READER! X MARK W. (18+)

summary: sometimes a cat-and-mouse game of three can last longer than intended.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni), explicit language, mfm threesome, dom!sebastian and dom!mark (mentions rbr!mark and rbr!seb), multi 21, oral sex (m receiving) + deepthroat + facefucking, dumbification if you squint hard enough, double penetration + spitroast, praise kink, size kink-esque, age gap (with mark), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED)

💌re:moony's planner request: "pls more webberxsebxreader preferably smut"

note: i have a couple asks/requests sitting on my inbox for a while and this is the first thing i've written in a while 😭 i'm sorry to disappoint y'all but enjoy regardless xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

even ten years later, she still had them chasing after her. 

working with red bull was anything but easy for her back in 2012, being a 22 years old woman and all. women in motorsports were something of a relatively new topic back then and when she made her presence known in the milton keynes factory, she would have expected things to be hard for her.

well… it was hard for her for a brief moment until a certain australian and german molded her into something more bold, giving her the attention and validation she desired. 

yet she persisted, thinking of them as people who merely wanted her to feel comfortable in the formula one field. she didn’t think much of it before.

until malaysia 2013 happened. sebastian vettel won after he stopped following a team order, causing mark webber his p1 and in the process the ‘multi 21’ controversy occurred. 

she was there to witness all of that - from mark’s radio to sebastian’s interview post-race, even their cooldown room segment. she was there. 

that was also the same night mark finally snapped and bent her over his hotel room bed, with her allowing mark to fuck the frustration out of himself while she whined and cried about how big he was— and how full she felt. 

it didn’t take long for sebastian to hear her whimpering and her pleading, as his room was situated next to mark’s. the german driver came knocking on mark’s door, and sebastian found his cock in her mouth and his hands gripping her hair. 

mark, ever the dominant man that he was, demanded the woman to suck the race winner’s cock and condescendingly told sebastian it was a ‘congratulatory gift’ from the australian. 

that was the last night they’ve ever seen each other in the same bed, but they saw each other a lot in the paddock. 

in 2014, mark left for world endurance while sebastian continued to chase after her - to which she explicitly stated that she wasn’t going to do it again. but sebastian pursued her continuously anyway.

now, in 2023, both men were retired but they always found themselves coming back to the paddock or the pit lane. mark webber had been managing a driver who was a rookie this year, while sebastian couldn’t find himself to leave the scene as he was newly retired. 

both had excuses, but no one really knew the real reason why they kept coming back. no one knew but themselves… and her. 

the ten year build up led to her hotel room by the suzuka track, her tits were splayed out and pinched and caressed by both men and her knicker becoming more damp as they continued to tease her. she uttered nothing but a pitiful sigh, something that had both men groaning in delight.

“god, i fuckin’ miss that whining of yours, baby,” mark nipped her ear, his greying stubble grazing her neck and his grubby fingers nestling themselves between her legs. “miss the way you fuckin’ plead. you miss being handled like this, don’t you?”

sebastian chuckled darkly, his hand finding itself stabilizing her chin as he examined her desperate face. “and you thought those men you’ve been fucking were fulfilling your needs,” sebastian’s german accent thickened as he gave her an amused smile, “we’ve been waiting for this for ten years, liebe.”

it was a blur, having to figure out how she went from sinking down to her knees and choking on sebastian’s cock as the tip hit the back of her throat. she could feel a lot of things.

this included mark’s hand that held her hair up and bobbed her head back and forth. mark crooned sweetly and praised her, “there we go. that’s a good girl. keep sucking his cock like that, baby. you’re doing so good for him.” 

mark nearly laughed when he watched her knees close and clench, fascinated at her submissive state as his eyes looked at her teary ones.

sebastian’s usually-bright-blue eyes were darkening as her mouth took in mark’s length, watching the way her tongue swirled around the aussie’s tip before her nose grazed the hipbone of the older man. 

mark let out a guttural groan, feeling his tip at the back of her throat as she skillfully took him in. he let out a string of curses before he muttered, “good girl. keep sucking me off like that. ‘m gonna fuck this throat of yours, hm?” he peered down at her, waiting for her go ahead and witnessing her nod. 

sebastian smirked as mark’s hips began to snap forward, lewd sounds of liquid escaping her barely empty mouth as she continued to indulge in mark’s cock.

“she can take us both so well,” sebastian crooned to the girl, stroking his cock at the same pace mark fucked her mouth with his length.

a few snaps of his hips after, mark finally pulled her mouth away and allowed her to breathe. she panted heavily, looking up at the towering man and still kneeling before them. 

“think you can take both of us, schatz?” sebastian asked the woman as if she couldn’t comprehend a word anymore. her bruised throat didn’t tell them anything, earning an amused laugh from mark and sebastian. she was already fucked out and she only sucked their cocks. 

mark could remember how desperate she was to suck him off after his loss at malaysia, wanting to please him after he grew frustrated with sebastian’s refusal of order in the track. all mark could think about was how ten years later he was going to feel her again. perhaps even better this time.

sebastian laid on the bed, gesturing for the woman to sit on his cock. 

mark’s hand helped the woman up before slapping her ass, his mouth letting out a smirk when she let out a soft sigh at the impact. 

soon, she sat on sebastian’s lap, sinking down on his cock as she let out a moan, “oh fuck…” 

she adjusted, allowing herself to bounce on sebastian’s cock for a moment before she felt mark move and settle behind her. a splatter of lube escaped its bottle as mark spread it generously, in the process his fingers prodded her back hole as she let out a soft whine.��

mark fucked her with his fingers while sebastian continued to thrust slowly, making her writhe and cry out for the two of them. they really had missed this— her pitiful and pleading moan. they missed making her cry like she hadn’t been fucked hard before. 

“mm… so fuckin’ tight,” mark whispered in her ear, pulling his hand away to stroke his cock and lubricate it. 

she nearly collapsed on top of sebastian when mark’s cock entered her slowly, both she and mark letting out loud moans. she felt so full while mark felt like she was hugging his cock tightly. 

“fuck, mark!” she exclaimed, her head nuzzling sebastian’s shoulder for a moment as she babbled, “so fucking big. god, you’re so fucking big!” 

“you’re so tight for us, schatz,” sebastian murmured and kissed her temple sweetly. “so fragile, we can barely fit ourselves in your holes.” 

“seb,” she whimpered as she muttered, “‘m so full.”

“i know you are, bebe,” sebastian said, humouring her submissive state while mocking her in the process, “you’re so full that you can’t think anymore, hm? all you can do is be a good girl for us because you’re already fucked out.” 

mark groaned loudly, now moving languidly alongside sebastian as the two men thrusted in and out of her holes. she couldn’t do much, she couldn’t even reminisce because of the sensations that she’s lost all thanks to their dominance and their primal urge to fuck her endlessly.

“you miss this, baby?” mark whispered heatedly, now moving rougher as she cried out their names. “missed this body of yours.”

“you had us running after you for years,” sebastian smirked, “now you’re a putty in our hands. such a shame you made us wait this long.”

“it’s a good thing we caught you eventually,” mark added as his eyes found her hands clawing at sebastian’s bare chest while she whined and squirmed in pleasure.

“because we’re gonna make sure you’re not gonna slip away anymore. gonna make sure you’re ours. gonna make sure everyone knows you’re ours — we’re gonna fuckin’ ruin every man for you like we did in 2013.” 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

[mee30p]

Don’t cry

a/n: I used @dixondisease inspo post I’ll link it here go check out them please they are an amazing inspo writer and I hope i did it justice <3

☽ summary: Daryl is frustrated from earlier events in the day when he says something he shouldn’t of and makes you cry.

☽ Warnings: swearing, calling reader names, crying

☽ Word count: short. I’m going to be so honest idk how many words maybe 0.5k?

You didn’t mean to pry, you knew you shouldn’t have Daryl becomes explosive when overwhelmed but you wanted to know what was up his ass today. This resulted in you and Daryl being in an argument again. The fourth one today and it’s only 12:30 PM, Daryl’s had a stick up his ass all day today and it’s pissing you off.

“Come on D, just tell me what’s got you so pissed off?” Your voice is relativity calm, not accusing just worried and slightly tight as you approach him and place an innocent worried hand on his arm his back facing you. That’s when Daryl says something really stupid.

“Would you just fuck off woman? I don’t need your naggin’ ass pissin’ me off more than I already am!” Daryl yells as he pulls you off his arm and spins around to look at you. As soon as he said it he regretted it. Fuck he’s stupid. But he is just so overwhelmed, the new addition to the prison decided it was a good idea to leave the gate open resulting in a dozen walkers getting into the prison field leaving Daryl to clean it up.

His words hit you like a semi-truck, God you knew you were sensitive it wasn’t a secret to anyone. You cried yesterday over a joke someone made about your hair but this was different Daryl never said stuff like this to you. Before you could stop yourself tears well in your eyes and a small choked sob escapes your mouth. You turn your back to Daryl as you clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs coming from you as your shoulders shake and tears run down your face.

Regretting he even uttered a word in the first place Daryl rushes over enveloping his arms around you m from behind while you sob uncontrollably. trying to reverse his doing with soft whispers and peppered kisses on the back and side-of your head. “fuck m’ sorry baby don’t cry… please don’t cry” but it’s far too late you’re already sobbing at his biting words.

“Fuck… shit…. No baby don’t cry please… I didn’t mean it I promise” Daryl whispers as he panickyly kisses everywhere he can reach as he hugs you. Daryl then lets go of you to spin you around making you face him. God. You feel like a total cry baby, you’ve killed people before without shedding a tear but just a few mean words from Daryl you knew he didn’t mean and you’re a mess. Daryl pulls you into his chest his hands threading through your hair and he presses more desperate kisses to your face and head. “I know baby… I know I’m a dick.. I didn’t mean it… I love you” Daryl panics.

Your crying slows down and you sniffles wiping your nose on your winter coat before looking up at your man. You don’t say anything as you look up at the hunter with teary red swollen eyes you don’t need to. He knows he messed up big time.

“M’ sorry Darlin’ didn’t mean it… I promise I love you” Daryl says as he looks down at you pressing a long kiss to your lips.

[ittybittyfanblog]

quick fic/blurb idea i got from a prior reblog—

broke postgrad art student who ‘accidentally’ acquires a sugar daddy by some weird turn of events (?) non-sexual!! (…probably) but essentially, it’s just sylus throwing money at you as his primary love language lol

student loans? ✨ paid off in full ✨

electives/clubs you want to join but cost extra? don't worry about it baby girl, you're in. no questions.

materials/equipment/textbooks you need for a class? oh, look, everything you were stressing over just got priority FedEx’d to your doorstep literally the same day.

debating whether to eat that technically not-yet-mouldy week-old loaf of bread in the cupboard? well, you don't have to, because now you have fresh groceries delivered every three days at five PM like clockwork.

and yes, you get an allowance. daily. and the less you check how much is being sent to your account, the better. (for your sanity.)

maybe sylus buys you a condo near campus, too. after all, he can’t have you taking the metro late at night. unacceptable. not when his smart, very capable girl is dead on her feet after a late shift at that part-time job he still hasn’t convinced you to give up.

smart, capable, and so damn stubborn.

(he’ll just buy the building complex where the charming, little gift shop you work at is located. not that he'll jeopardize an innocent business, nor your employment, lest you get mad at him. ah, he'd figure it out. eventually.)

and he’s not trying to be smarmy about it. not in any way, or capacity, not at all, no. just the simple fact that he can provide for you—that he gets to be the reason you're able to chase your big girl dreams, do everything you want and more—already gets him off like crazy.

sometimes, though… you wonder if you’re taking too much advantage of your....... sponsor's....... generosity. it bothers you, more than a little bit. that he gets the short end of the stick, or what seems like.

so, uh, you try to give him... something in return.

the first booby pic you send him gets an immediate, resounding reply of just: “no.”

your initial, knee-jerk reaction is to be offended—(you sent that willingly, damn it.) if not for the fact that he's the first to like every selfie/photo you post on your socials, and comments stuff like, "gorgeous," "my sweet girl," and a frankly offensive, "prettiest flower out of the bunch," in every group photo you're in, like the kind of odd, senile relative who plays favorites.

(still.)

then, as soon as you graduate, you get hired. immediately.

and you know how, back in the day, artists had these rich ass patrons who paid for everything so they could literally just exist and create? yeah, that’s you now—after signing a non-renewable contract with a frankly ridiculous upfront deposit and a bond agreement that (upon closer inspection) basically states in the fine print that you're more or less ensured to get whatever you want... as long as you don’t work for anybody else.

but hey, job security is rough these days. you'd be stupid to turn it down. really, you're practically living the dream here.

(you just find it kinda weird that page 46 of the document looks suspiciously like a prenup agreement—wait a damn sec, what's this about marriage now–)

[shinigamigloss]

lazuli

✎ two years since the night Leon left you, and today is Leon’s 23rd birthday (yes yes yes!! part two of bye bye baby blue <3)

cw: emotional hurt / comfort, angst, grief, second chances, hallucinations, post-traumatic stress, unreliable narrator, and one more chapter to go! (written with leon in mind in the opening scene of re4r) word count: 2.5k and tagging some lovely people here: @preeyas-world + @carmendanny2 + @senawashere

⌕ part 1 ┃looking for a playlist while reading?

You have been, for a while, in the habit of mingling with the gloom and the rain – either your ally or your persistent nemesis.

Ever since the night of September 30th, you’ve been suspended in an ambivalent state. Insomnia and carmine question marks prowled in the depths of your mind.

The trouble is that your memory, like your very dreams, has grown weary of storing the minute remnants of Leon.

So long has it been since you’d last seen or heard from him that sometimes, even when all alone – or in the midst of friends and interim ‘lovers’ – you’d find yourself searching for him in the measly details of your apartment.

And the flat was a big, bare space.

The bedroom had become a strange void. The lonely, withered corner of the mattress felt too wide on its own. You were very small in that perfect bed, and yet so enormous – like some foolish victim of Procrustes, who should have been cut and reshaped to fit, just to feel whole again.

There were also certain days when you’d find yourself evading people's and coworkers’ probing questions as though skirting bullets.

Queries about the boy you were once engaged to, back in your hometown, would venture into your private matters like razor-edged knives through gauze. Mercifully, the silence that followed a lethargic ‘we broke up’ – spoken to eyes dilating with anticipation – came as ephemeral as the flight of a butterfly.

Friends, relatives, and colleagues soon learned how to retreat into the safety of their own routines, folding away their curiosity like a letter that needn’t be read in the first place.

Many more years rolled by, yet not once did he answer the letters of penitence you sent.

---

Time only ever flies, and all you ever do is wander through the decay of memory.

There begins the first stage of separation, ringing your doorbell.

Recognizing his absence, you suffer the lesions and tears of a once-treasured love, now gathering only grayish dust. All you’ve got left is a proper heartache, followed by sundry seasons of naked solitude.

Nightmares precede a mosaic of nights and intricate dreams that can no longer be manually captured. Phase two comes out of the blue.

You sell the apartment on some peripheral morning, donate what little remains of Leon’s belongings to a local orphanage, pawn the ring that once mattered, cut your hair shorter than ever before, and leave the shelter with a cat.

So, it happens. Leon is no more.

Blessed by the passage of seasons, you grow inured to this new state of reality. A Leon-less life, if you will.

April arrives, bearing its recognizable heat.

It’s a crisp morning with the aroma of damp earth and tentative blossoms. The cemetery is deserted, save for the distant whistling of the brisk wind through the rows and lines of stonework. You still stall around.

There are very many names written on the tombstones.

A bouquet of lazuli-pigmented forget-me-nots in your hand, the petals evanish glum beneath your grip. Always the same flowers. He would’ve liked them, you suppose. A pretty blue had always been his hue.

You once read it with a lump lodged in your chest: the contents of a frosty letter sent by the department. At the bottom, a single signature. No words of clarification. No remission.

Nothing but a grave and a date: September 30th, 1998. The date of the ice-cold night he stormed out of the house you two nursed.

Your fingers splay out to touch the name carved in stone.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Crouching next to the epitaph, you sow your flowers beside him, ritualistically so.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper aloud, although you’re not sure if your hushing has even left your throat. It’s all a misguided venture as it is.

Two whole years. So easy to count. So hard to go through.

And yet, for some odd reason, you never believed that he was truly gone. Not ever, not so much for the sensitive elements of a moment in space.

It may be your mechanism that’s playing a backstage trick on you. Perhaps science has another name for it: a molecular aversion to recognition, a chemical romance with escapism.

Does it matter, and to whom?

Such is the viscosity of your staircase of thought that you barely register the voice beside you, even the second time it demands attention.

“Dying. It’s so strange,” the voice intones, neutral and dry.

What an absurd observation. Who even says that?

No, wait.

Who dares to say that?

Why should anyone seek a stranger’s take on the great hard knocks?

Much as this puts you in a tailspin, you decide not to look up and face the man talking to you. There are weeds growing underneath Leon’s tombstone, and you pluck them out in lieu of bothering yourself.

“Strange or not, it’s the most real thing there is,” you mouth all the while.

“No kidding,” the man carries a glimmer of amusement in his phrasing.

Quietness creeps in between you. The April chill mingles with drifting dust motes from spring blossoms. The stranger, patient and hollow-eyed, waits for you to finish tending the grave.

“Who is this Leon guy again?” he asks.

Why prod, and to what end?

It’s his words, his calm, his stillness – all coalesce into one terminal voltage, a shock so searing that it rends your very composure.

You turn, face twisted into the sourish form it identifies itself with.

He looks back at you. An unfazed kind of smile touches his lips.

It could be right then – that moment when your world collapses in on itself. Your knees give a gross shake. The reflection of the man in your eyes dilates your pupils enormously.

“Hi, love,” he greets heartily, and you blink at the dead.

No dream has ever felt as visceral on the skin as it does now. No dream until today: the middle of April, the twentieth of the month. Leon’s 23rd birthday.

Tearful, as if bullying your brain, which signals your twitching lower lip to halt. A blue color rudely paints the flesh as you worry it.

Love? What love? How come love?

Leon holds out his hand, but you don’t so much as flinch.

He stands there, breathless and tall, as if Hades had granted a day-pass for the dead men.

You’re still falling through the dented tunnel of disbelief, allowing reality to make its grand entrance into the spectacle.

“You’re dead,” you lock your jaw.

His helping hand comes to naught. On your own, you get back on your feet.

“I’ve got no time for this anyway.” You wear an overly stern expression and gesticulate awkwardly to be entirely convincing. Cast out the unwanted from your vision.

Leon sighs in the wake of this. His brows crease with something sedated, whilst the downward curve of his mouth speaks of a telltale concern.

He looks devastating.

His clothes (all dark and ink blue, tailored well to his physique) are disheveled and distinctly perfumed with the pleasant tang of his cologne in the breezy, pollen-laden air around him.

“Maybe I was dead,” there’s a bounce in his voice.

Does he ever hear the things he speaks? How completely impertinent can he be?

“Don’t give me that shit,” you blurt out the first thing that lights up in your thoughts.

“What shit, exactly?” Leon exhorts you to give voice.

“This. Shit. This and that.”

Your gaze wanders to him. The patches of the past on his skin remind you of young bruises: yellow, pallid, and rimmed with green.

He’s as in your sleepless visions: cynical and, above all, blinkered. Maybe if you looked at him from a good angle, you could feasibly see the riverscapes of the things he had been up to. Pity you can’t do such a trick in a million dreams.

“Hmm,” is the most Leon says.

Hot reds pump through your veins. You tell yourself that if you only close your eyes, all should be well. 

So, you close your eyes, reopen them, hoping to be taken all the way back to the earthly population of your dull, mean world. 

“That won’t be at all necessary, sweetheart.” Endearment escapes him through a habitual slip of the tongue. 

Fuck. 

“No, it’s absolutely necessary,” you counter sharply. 

“It’s not.” 

“Why won’t you shut the hell up?” 

In that little snippet of the reunion scenario, the cooling affection of his hand falls from your shoulder and lingers in the palm of your hand. 

“Can’t,” Leon says calmly. “I found you once. I’m not just going to leave you. Not like this.” 

Your lover assumes the shape of your sightline the minute you blink into existence. A larger Leon, with a face marred by the lines of tiredness. Longer hair that has faded to a shade of silken gold. Mocha once fondled his crown, but no longer. 

What your eyes behold is not the sum of what your heart already knows. 

“Bullshit,” your teeth kiss the bottom of your lip; Leon curls his fingers about yours, as if you might slip away from his hold. 

“You can’t be real,” you breathe in deeply, “this has happened before. Happens all the time. You just walk in, piss me off, and walk out.” 

“I’m here anyway,” he returns in a controlled intonation, lest he wake the world around you. 

“I had to come back for you.” 

He brings your hand to the right side of his face. No other layer of skin has felt so genuine since flesh forgot tenderness and, instead, digested the mechanics of sex. 

Cautiously, you take a small step. The gravel underfoot crunches listlessly away. 

“This is a hallucination. That’s all it is. Side effect.” You shake off a chill first. 

“The doctor told me.” You go quiet then. 

Rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, Leon adopts the barest of attitudes. 

“If I were your imagination, I would have a better way in. And what doctor are you—” 

“Stop talking! It is not funny.” 

The admonition strikes a jarring chord. A privilege, even after all these years, to have known him well enough to catch that flicker of mortification sparking briefly across his face. 

This sting – not so readily trivialized. It hurts still. 

He needs to see what an impossibly starless path you’ve meandered since his omission. 

“They said you were dead. You were buried.” You broach the matter; he’s already marrow-deep in your gaze. 

The buried aren’t meant to return, and it’s to the banshee’s dismay that the living should witness what has already died. It’s the rule, is it not? 

Leon’s stare glaciates to shades of electric blues. 

“You think I wanted this?” His question fractures like the snap of a twig at his feet. 

Impulsively, he closes in on you, one more step into your orbit. That’s his vivid tint shimmering in your irises. 

“I was protecting you,” he talks trash under his breath. 

(Classic.)

“By dying?” 

“No,” he rasps, “by staying dead.” 

“Oh, my God! Of course you did. Played the hero as always. Well, Clark Kent, where might your glasses be?” Sarcasm gushes from your tongue, and with good reason. 

How utterly vulgar you can be when you want to be. 

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it really that damn hard to put your trust in me?” he gnashes his teeth. 

“Funny, I remember how you gladly dumped me that night.” 

“That’s the part you know!” 

“And that’s more than enough to hate you!” 

Leon teeters and flutters an eyelid, gobsmacked in the most graphic condition possible. 

The air chokes the soul. Pinpricks of raindrops splatter in the heart of a moment of whirlwind daze. Dappled on his shoulders and dripping on his face, a drizzle catches on his lashes like the dew on cast iron. 

Hell, Leon’s everything aches: his cadence, his posture. His hand twitches in an attempt to gloss something indecipherable and unspeakable. You no longer listen to him. 

Against all sense, you come one step to the fore. You desperately need to be sure he’s the genuine article. 

Halfway through his sentence – “If I had stayed, they would’ve—” your mouth collides with his. Teeth knock. 

There’s no precision to it. No poetry written into the pell-mell kisses. No. It’s rather an open wound under the gelid water. 

His lips are mist-tinged and piteous, but just a touch belated. Yet as your hands reach for his collar and fist the sodden fabric, something inside him gives way. His breath betrays him. Mouth softens, and the kiss burrows deeper with a distant clap of thunder in the sky. 

His fingers clamber up to frame your mizzle-kissed face. Flesh and heat and bone. Salt too. 

He feels it all in the precious jostle of a millisecond into the present. 

At last, the skin honors the color of his touch. 

“I fucked up real bad. Shit, sweetheart. I lost you.” He leans close to you then, severing the kiss. 

His eyes twinkle like they’ve been washed in the storm and then reddened in the incandescent flames. 

You trace a cool hand along the faint arch of his jawline, newly chiseled since the last time your lips connected with his. 

To draw him closer to you is to abrogate every wound that is still healing. 

To pull away would be to abandon the part of you that has never stopped waiting. 

Oh, but this is no fantasy; gone is the brutal game born from the illicit marriage of chimera and sorrow. 

He’s real. 

What a way to get a hit in. What a kiss. 

Like the first breath after drowning, it’s a lovely but cold blue sinkhole. Takes much to last. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe through lips bitten raw. “The letters… they… god. No way.” 

A shallow draft of wind punches through your lungs. You come to a stop. 

“They said… ‘Leon was like this and like that. Very brave, and—” 

Beautiful cursive on blank paper – robotic condolences from men and women in polished shoes – flare up behind your eyes like credits ticking down within the frame of a movie’s swan song. 

Something feels out of sync. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t really understand you when you’re like this.” Leon holds you by the arms with a kind of makeshift smile in some strange sort of shape. 

(Or it’s your fallibility playing mind games again and against you.) 

“Do you also feel the ground moving, or is it just—” 

Your knees give out as if you’re an archaic scaffold. A marionette whose cords have been snapped. 

Leon catches you in the nick of time – but only just. 

Your sepia-tinted filter, already bleeding at the margins, begins to blur his features. 

Leon’s flustered shock hangs above until his visage is brush-stroked in a moonless black. 

[milorealcat]

wilbur soot as your boyfriend ♡

pairing: wilbur x gn!reader

summary: wilbur loves you a whole lot:)

length: relatively short (362 words)

-> constantly sending you cute photos when you‘re not with him, especially on tour. most random shit ever like it could legit be a cool looking rock

-> hand holding 24/7 😭

-> obsessed with making you homemade stuff for valentines and anniversaries, he saw paper roses made out of book pages on pinterest and went down a rabbit hole from there

-> he‘d heavily lean into the idea of promise rings

-> physical touch & acts of service!!! i will die on this hill

-> would match outfits with you on accident… totally

-> absolutely infatuated with you; literally can’t stop staring at you, even when you call him out on it

-> if you even glance at something in a shop, he‘ll whip out his wallet immediately

-> he‘s a big spoon imo but he doesn’t really care as long as he gets to cuddle with you, he would die a happy man snuggled up next to you

-> internally squeals whenever he sees your username pop up in chat. his voice softens a little and he tries to act cooler (it fails)

-> is still so nervous around your family enough though they all love him to bits and basically consider him your husband already

-> speaking of chat, they get a lovely half an hour long explanation of something funny you did just about every stream

-> always puts his hand on your lower back to lead you through places, regardless of if you’re built like a tank or not

-> play a demo versions of all of his songs to you, your opinion means the world to him

-> LOVESSS getting face kisses, makes him go all red and flustered which is a bonus

-> would be the kinda person to talk during a movie, fucking analysing it as it plays

• "oh my GOD!!!! her GIRLFRIEND just drowned!!!"

• "wil… you know i‘m watching the movie too right?"

-> calls you ”darling“, ”sweetheart“ and ”love“ mostly, with an occasional ”baby“ slipped in there

-> will rant about you for hours unapologetically

-> has a framed picture of you two on his desk, as a form of emotional support

first actual piece of writing posted on here 😭😭😭 praying

[pnfc]

what becomes so irksome, when you like platypuses, about the memetic popsci idea that they are crazy freaks of nature, is all these relatively mundane attributes of platypuses become misrepresented and get overblown — when like any animals they DO have tons of unique and interesting features, that don’t tend to get brought up unless they’re in service of a stupid clickbait headline about how they’re god’s crazy prank mutant hybrid animal.

like: yes, their fur fluoresces in UV light. so does the fur of a ton of mammals. it came with your having fur (made of keratin in particular, like your fingernails, though it glows more depending on concentrations of other organic compounds.)

yes, they have stomachs. i posted about that. they're unique in that they don't produce acid -- but "platypus stomachs don't secrete acid" isn't a very exciting headline. so instead it's "platypuses have TOTALLY LOST their stomachs!" which paints a more vivid and inaccurate picture in your head.

see also "platypuses sweat milk" -- their skin produces milk in the way nipples produce milk, but they don't have nipples, just flat areolas over their mammary glands. same of echidnas. the babies suck it up. but this paints some strange misconception that all platypuses secrete milk all over or something -- actually platypuses sweat sweat, fun fact, they have sweat glands all over their body. this is SUCH human rudeness because plats and echidnas are our most anciently-derived branchoff of the non-lactating pre-mammal therapsids, hundreds of millions of years ago: they're echoes of the first attempts of animals to produce nutritional milk to wean their young. what a cool feat, the invention of milk. but since they hadn't developed nipples yet we instead treat this like more proof they're freaks.

and everything has to fit that freak branding. their attributes that are genuinely unique but can't be spun as somehow gross or unnerving, like how their bills let them see electric currents in water with their eyes closed, how they're shaped like metal detectors to pick up electric fields, don't get mentioned as often.

their venom spurs are really cool too, and unique among mammals despite the fact that they used to be commonplace ancestral mammalian features -- but mostly get mentioned in service of the larger racist meme that everything in australia wants to kill you. when male plats are mostly just using their spurs to fight each other over territory, like we all do. like me when i stab people who stand too close to me. we all do it. stop making a big deal about it

[captain-huggy-bear]

Kesselring and going into labor

Requests are open for specific people only, please see my pinned post for details :) Writing Masterlist

"Shit, shit, shit!"

"Michael, calm down. Labour takes hours." You're trying to keep him calm because he's pacing the room, hands in his hair, eyes wild like you just told him you committed a murder. All you'd told him was that your contractions had started, no big deal, they were decently far apart, there was no rush.

"But, what if...fuck, where did we put the bag?" He's search the room like it's gotten legs and decided to go walkabouts, all knowledge of all your pre-prepared plans gone. Gone because he's panicking, because he's going to be a dad soon and you're going to be a mum and this is...fuck life is about to completely change.

"It's in the hallway closet, remember?" Right where you both left it. Right where you'd made sure it was packed a couple of nights ago. Everything you could possibly need while you were in hospital inside it.

"Right, right... Where are your shoes?"

"By the door." Like always, like they've been for the last 3 years.

"Okay, wait here, baby."

It's sweet, endearing, how freaked out Michael is. He's still in his post-game clothes, literally having walked through the door to you announcing that you'd started having what you believed to be contractions. It send Michael straight into panic mode. Suit not taken off, bag still by the front door, shoes still on.

His hair was a mess at this point, hands having run through it so many times that it was sticking up in all directions, a veritable birds nest. Every action is wild, filled with an energy that's anxious, panicked.

"Got 'em!" Even the way he comes back into the room, your shoes in hand and kneels to put them on you, is panicked. His fingers shaking, body juddering with the sort of nerves that you're certain you should be feeling.

You feel calm though. Oddly calm. It's not like you're about to pop the baby out right this minute...labour can take hours, your contractions are relatively far apart and you don't live that far from the hospital either. Maybe you feel calm because it's your body and you're somewhat in control of it? Where as Michael is an outsider in all of this, he has no control and no say in what happens.

"Mikey..."

"Yeah?" God, even his voice is shaky with nerves.

"It's going to be okay..." You reach down for his hand and just hold it and it's like you've put a missing piece back into a puzzle. He lets out a breath, body relaxing a little, forehead dropping to your knee.

"I just want you both to be okay...and I don't want you to be in pain." He's scared. He's scared that something will go wrong, for you, for the baby. He's scared that you'll be in pain, he knows it'll hurt, but he hates seeing you in pain...and he's causing this pain, he's the one who helped you make a baby in the first place.

"I know, baby, but we'll be fine and then you can get me a big stuffed crust pizza as birthing treat." God, you want a big pizza so bad...and those garlic cheesy bites...and some nachos...and big milkshake. All the things you were told not to consume too much of during pregnancy becoming overly careful with the foods you ate.

"I'll get you the whole damn restaurant."

"Oh, don't promise that or I'll hold you to it." This time he actually smiles at you, goofy, more like himself and that makes things better, makes you feel better.

[creampuffqueen]

Pregnancy and Childbirth Headcanons -- Water Tribe

Pregnancy and childbirth are major events, and as such many traditions and customs surrounding them arise. These are some of my headcanons about what these traditions look like in the Water Tribes!

Masterlist -- contains links for the other A:TLA nations, as well as a small list of general content warnings if you feel you may need them

This post will discuss events from conception all the way to the first year of a baby's life. Enjoy!

Arranged marriages are mostly only common in the capital/big cities, and occasionally are done between the children of smaller group leaders. It is seen as an important duty for both men and women. Outside of these instances, most people have free reign to marry as they please

Sex is seen as a private matter between adults, but otherwise there aren't too many taboos surrounding it. Women are not expected to be virgins for marriage, and children born outside of wedlock are treated no differently than those born within. If you helped make the baby, you should help raise it, no matter your relationship status with the other person

Sex is also known to be a pleasurable activity that people enjoy, so both men and women have common contraceptive methods in order to enjoy themselves without the risk of pregnancy. Men will create sheaths out of dried intestinal linings, and women will use a barrier made of soft dried sea sponge

Water Tribe family sizes are typically smaller, with larger age gaps between children. Children are breastfed for around 3-5 years, which can sometimes act as a contraceptive and further control family size

Adoption is fairly common. If a family cannot handle a new baby, it will be adopted by a relative or a close friend. The child will still know its genetic origins and have a close relationship with its biological parents, but won't be raised by them

When trying to conceive, it is considered best to try during the full moon, and worst to try during the new moon. It is believed that pregnancies conceived during a new moon are more likely to result in miscarriage or even stillbirth, as the "waters of the womb" are not ideal

If a couple is struggling to conceive, there is a fertility ritual used. The father will take the baculum bone (penis bone) from an animal he hunted, clean and polish it, and give it to his mother. His mother will carve various symbols and designs into the bone. If his mother is no longer around, the ritual can be done with another older female relative. After the bone is carved, the man will give it to his partner, who will keep it as long as it takes to conceive a child. After the baby is born, the talisman is buried, as it is unique to that child only. Unlike the Air Nomad fertility charms (see blow) this is a closed practice

The Water Tribes experience a baby boom every autumn. Why? Well, it's nine months after the coldest part of the year when everyone is cooped up inside for warmth ;)

While not as extreme or varied as the Earth Kingdom, there are a few customs Water Tribe women should adhere to during pregnancy. They cannot braid their hair (baby's umbilical cord will tangle), walk backwards through doorways (baby will be born breech), or eat raw meat. Typically their partner will also follow these customs during pregnancy, as a show of solidarity

Living in such harsh conditions, it's important that people are able to keep what little food is available down. Nausea and vomiting during pregnancy are taken very seriously. Women who can waterbend can sometimes treat themselves, but those who cannot will be closely looked after by the healers in their village. Waterbending healing can't cure nausea, but it can significantly lessen its effects

Dreams are considered highly important for pregnant women. They are said to give insight as to who your baby may be in the future

Once movement can be felt, it is important that both parents spend as much time as possible talking to the baby, in order to get them used to their voices. Traditionally, when the father talks to the baby he will frequently ask the baby to be born quickly and easily

An expectant mother cannot make her own baby supplies, as that invites bad luck. Baby supplies are passed around families and villages until they can't be used anymore, and anything that needs to be made new will be made by someone other than the expectant mother

Before giving birth, women will get intricate tattoos on their thighs, so the baby has something beautiful to look at as it enters the world

Near the end of her first pregnancy, the other mothers in the village will host the pregnant woman for an evening, serve her food, and share their experiences with childbirth and childrearing to impart as much wisdom as possible

Water Tribe women don't give birth at home. When labor starts, they seek out a waterbending healer. There will usually be a dedicated birthing area within each village, but if there isn't, one will quickly be constructed

Amniotic fluid is regarded as holy, life-giving water. Many people will attempt to catch as much of the fluid as they can, which will be used after birth to bless anything they please

The birth itself is a quiet affair. Typically the only people attending will be the midwife, an assistant if needed, and a close female relative of the person giving birth

Lights are kept dim, speaking is soft and gentle, and everything is relaxed. The mother is encouraged to make as little noise as possible, and instead put all her energy into pushing

Water Tribe births are done waterbirth style. The water can be kept at a constant warm temperature through waterbending, and if anything were to go wrong mother and baby are already surrounded by water, ready for healing by the attending midwife

Babies born with their amniotic sac still intact are considered very special, and seen as good luck. The sac will be kept and dried to be used as a good luck talisman for the baby's life

After the baby is born, a message is sent to the father. Depending on the area, he will then either hunt or slaughter an animal and cook it. The best parts of the animal will be given to the midwife who attended the birth, as thanks

For the mother, the placenta is cooked and eaten as her first meal post-birth

Newborns pretty much stay skin-to-skin with their mother for the first few days of life. Most Water Tribe families co-sleep as well

Mothers spend a few weeks recovering and taking it slow. No specific amount of time is traditional, so this recovery varies from person to person

When the mother feels ready enough to get back to work, the baby is kept with her at all times, carried in the hood of her parka or in a sling across her chest

It is considered bad luck to name a baby before it is born. How can you decide on a fitting name for someone you've never met? A name is chosen after the baby has been around for a few days or weeks. Naming children after deceased relatives is very common

Water Tribe families practice elimination communication with their babies, which is essentially just recognizing the signs that the baby needs to relieve themself and bringing them somewhere they can do so, rather than soiling themselves. Due to this practice, most children are potty-trained by the time they can walk

It is not uncommon for babies to occasionally be nursed by someone other than their mother. Sometimes mothers aren't available, or just need a break, so someone will feed their baby if they are unable to

A baby's first laugh is incredibly special. When a baby laughs for the first time, it is a good sign they are healthy and will live, so a party will be held in celebration of this, with the baby as the "host"

When babies begin eating solids, they usually start out by being given well-cooked bones to suck the marrow out of

When a young boy makes his first kill on a hunt, the meat of the animal will be given to the midwife who delivered him, or her family if she is no longer alive. The bones from this animal will be given to his mother, who will carve a bone choker necklace from them

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please don't hesitate to reblog or comment!

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 10 | 11 | 12

masterlist

it had been days since you and rafe had last spoken, a strange and heavy distance settling between the two of you filled with unspoken words. the once easy rhythm of your conversations was completely lost — you couldn’t quite explain it.

you hadn’t even seen him — not in person, at least. the only glimpses you caught of him were through the small, filtered windows of social media. you often found yourself scrolling past his posts, your heart bubbling with a mixture of longing and frustration. it was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was all you had right now. 

rafe’s story

liked by yourgirlsofia, yourusername and 57 others

it seemed he was doing the same thing: still reacting to your posts from time to time, sending half-hearted likes your way. his lack of comments demonstrated his rejection for connection between the two of you.

yourusername

liked by sarahupdates, rafecam and 4,523 others

yourusername i just wanna dance at the ballet

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jjmaybank you’re funny, you

yourusername 😉

sarahcameron you look so elegant

kiaracarrera wish we could see you dance

yourusername obx ballet studio coming when?

your story

sarahcameron, kiaracarrera and 16 others liked your story

yourusername

liked by rafecam, sarahcameron and 6,742 others

yourusername that’s how it goes

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kiaracarrera the best week ❤️

itscleo love you bae

jjmaybank what if i said you’re the best photographer obx has got then what?

heywardpope you’d be right

johnbr agreed

sarahcameron my queen ily

it felt strange, to feel so disconnected from someone who was seemingly becoming a big part in your life. you hadn’t know him long, but in that time he’d became a prominent presence in your days; your grandmother’s occasional mention of him only supporting that idea. perhaps this is what you got for moving so quickly.

during the moments that you let your mind wander, the emptiness of it all gnawed at you. you wondered if he felt it too — this odd feeling; like neither of you dared to be the first to reach out, bridging the growing gap… and yet it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

a/n: i’m not crying you are…

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe @littlefreak-liz @wdwbts101 @akobx @lossfairy @marleymarleymarleymarley

[regencyrosalie]

biblically accurate modern!husband!anthony hc’s 🤍

first post here ! <3 i hope u love it <3

- anthony “i love my wife” bridgerton trying to go about his daily life when he quite literally wants to stay in bed all day with you.

- anthony is THE lightest sleeper on earth. if you get up at night, you’ll come back to the bedroom and hes just sitting up in bed half asleep like 🧍🏻‍♂️

- speaking of, if you even want to get up, you’ll have to wriggle out of his death grip. he will hold onto you throughout the entire night, and if it’s hot, he’ll make sure to have a hand sprawled across the bed onto you.

- sometimes you have to remind him to back off a little because he genuinely acts like you might die every time you leave the house

- insists you call/text him (preferably call) when you arrive at at wherever you’re going so he know you didn’t get hit by a car or something on the way there

- speaking of, Anthony texts like he he does not understand what a phone is.

- quite literally really only uses his dad’s old desk phone and emails. he owns an iphone 7 that is usually sitting in the back of his bedside drawer for days at a time.

- he loves all of his siblings equally, but Hyacinth has him wrapped around her finger at all times.

- will do pretty much anything for his wife, but is much more firm with his siblings.

- which is why every time they need something and you aren’t around, Hyacinth is sent to give him her best puppy eyes. he folds almost instantly every time without fail.

- genuinely does not really have many “friends” that aren’t also family. he used to in college, but he just doesn’t find it necessary anymore, and also doesn’t have the time.

- he has reading glasses. enough said.

- scared of bugs.

- talks about pretty much everything with Benedict, who he’s probably closest with in his family besides his mother.

- used to play with/take care of Hyacinth as a baby when Violet was grieving.

- sometimes struggles to pronounce big words when he’s arguing and it pisses him off so much he has to leave the room.

- likely has most of his siblings set up with a therapist, but doesn’t get one for himself until his wife tells him to.

- all of his spaces are organized meticulously, usually by color or number order.

- will check to make sure every door to the house is locked at least three times before going to bed.

- which can take up to an hour when staying at Aubrey Hall.

- we all see how he softened in season 3. his siblings tease him about it sometimes, but they’re all delighted. and he couldn’t care less. he thinks he is the luckiest man on earth and rolls his eyes every time he thinks of how angsty he was.

- if you have children, he’s the most loving father in the world. will wear a tutu if the need arises.

- he can’t have you in his office for more than thirty minutes or he gets distracted.

- he didn’t cry for years after his dad died, and now he cries about once a month.

- most animals love him for some reason.

- has nightmares relatively frequently after edmund dies, but they die down as he gets older.

- favorite color is navy blue. changes to light blue once he’s married.

- good with babies and toddlers from when hyacinth was little.

- you make him take breaks while he works everyday, and they become his favorite parts of the day. you bring him tea and sit in his lap and pet his hair, sometimes he falls asleep. he tells you to wake him up but you never do.

- still uses an alarm clock.

- refuses to leave bed until ten am every day.

- smells like sandalwood and cinnamon.

- idk why but i feel like he fucking LOVES sudoku puzzles.

- but dont ever ask him to do a real puzzle thats more than 50 pieces or he may start crying.

- type of mf to read actual newspapers.

- no one in the family has serious allergies, but he still keeps an epi pen everywhere just in case.

[tsukiran]

haikyuu fic recs [ 5 ]

list #1 list #2 list #3 list #4 is here

akaashi keiji. crystal clear

bokuto koutarou. mattress // lovebug // post-match routine

iwaizumi hajime. red (can't marry my fiancé) // milk frother // oversized godzilla tee // of beauty marks // hugs

kageyama tobio. love languages // hating Atsumu to a whole new level

kozume kenma. whys over hot chocolate (Maesi) // better half spotlight // lisstick prank (Maesi)

kita shinsuke. dark red // 7:00pm too good to be inexperienced // you know i'll take you there // jelly jams jelly

kuroo tetsurou. no more hair to pull // a new hope // dry humping // you deserve better

matsukawa issei. dark green (watermelon) // will you like it?

meian shugo. dangerous business // relatively private

miya atsumu. cosmopolitan (bartender!au) // hit different // all i want for christmas (smau - rumi) // blankets // seet giw boo-ful peety

miya osamu. dorky valentine's day date // porch swing and patient hearts // first times // big fat crush // first regular // smells like onigiri // pregnant osamu // slow dancing in the dark

oikawa tooru. blue // dangerous

sakusa kiyoomi. 11:49am wet dreams // contrast // cheating dream // cuddly Yoomi

semi eita. interlude

suna rintarou. midnight blue // talk too much (smau) // we don't do jealous i swear // akito affections // not breaking up (chip) // attention span // the agreement // no kissy (Akito) // did that feel good? // to be loved is to be known // sassy eldest child (Akito) // porn choices // emmy's rintarou // recording

tsukishima kei. the best of it // press start! (smau)

ushijima wakatoshi. hard to cum

bokuroo. a little slow

various. captain-hawks masterlist // the boy is mine // angstober2024 // oh baby - part 2

ran2024. updated 5/21/25