#or something but that might be a little on the nose given then anonymity thing thats supposed to come withh tumblr

[anxiously-going]

Fun ways to know the Level Headed One ™️ is around: You hear someone sigh in exasperation when you glance around an empty room before dropping the single socks back into the laundry hamper.

[mtchee]

My Chosen Beloved - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

In ancient Teyvat, you worship your Lord of Geo as much as the next villager. When you hear that you're cursed by something unknown, your fears are only confirmed when you're given to your Archon as a sacrifice to save your village. Only, it turns out you're not quite the sacrifice you thought you were. OH, turns out, you're to be wedded to your Archon. Except, since arriving at his hidden chambers, you've seen neither hide nor hair of him. Only his pet dragon, Morax, lazes about in the mountainscape to accompany you. Welp, new best friend! Even if it is a sassy lizard. What... What do you mean, he is the sassy lizard...

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kinda chaotic [name], sugestive at the end, arranged (??) marriage trope except he arranged it, Zhongli is a little shit, i think he's slightly OOC im SO sorry, dragonli, young Morax?? but not quite, ancient teyvat au (kind of), swearing, might do a part 2

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[4.0k]

"Cursed!?" You cry out in horror, "I'm cursed!?"

"Not cursed, dear one," The sweet old lady hums, swishing around your cup of left over tea leaves, "just marked."

"Oh, oh good," You feign relief, "so I'm a target."

"Oh hush you," The tea reader swats you over the head, "you fret too much. Besides, there's more I've yet to see..."

You grumble to yourself under your breath, rubbing your sore spot with a pout before sitting and waiting for the rest of her verdict. The woman hums lowly, a content smile on her delicate old features as she keeps her eyes trained on the semi-warm yunomi cup in her hands.

"Ooh, would you look at that," She hums happily, "a crescent star--how wonderful. You will have an unusually large fortune happen upon you..." she swishes the cup once more, "and... ah! And these are... indeed! Health and happiness shall befall you! Though beware, a great sacrifice must you omit in your coming days for this to be achieved."

You sigh to yourself quietly, smiling softly with a shake of your head, "Thank you, grandma."

You place a small pouch of coins atop her tattered, velvet cloth table as you move to stand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She tuts, eyes wide as she stares at your tea leaves, "my child... I see that someone has their eye on you; beware of whom it is that you trust, deary. Not all things are as they seem..."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, and you squeak; you feel your soul levitate.

You gain a cold sweat, "T-Thanks, granny..."

"It's no problem, child!" The old lady beams, positively ignorant of your terror, "come back anytime. It's always such a joy to read for you..."

"Aha, yes. I-I'm sure..." You wince, smile strained, "um... goodnight, granny."

"Goodnight, dear one!"

You're quick to leave the quaint tea shop, placid smile immediately dropping into one of panic. Ever since you'd gone up that stupid magical mountain or whatever, you'd felt these odd shivers down your spine, like someone was watching you.

Constantly.

Or, nearly constantly. It usually stopped when you got to your house--at least this stalker had some decency. 

It certainly didn't help that there was an apparent raid being planned on your village, an attack that you'd all been warned about by an anonymous.

It was a curse of sorts, unleashed by an old enemy of your land's beloved Archon, Rex Lapis. The main city of Liyue is only small at this time, and the adepti, each to their own, have additionally been busy with protecting the various other scattered villages around the land.

You were given fourteen days to figure out a solution. 

Now, there's only three left. 

You shudder, once again feeling a pair of eyes glaring into you from archons knows where, and you let out an angsty huff, crossing your arms over yourself. 

"Great," You crinkle your nose, "now I'm even more paranoid." 

"A WHAT!?" 

Ah, what a wonderful start to the morning, with two days left before the presumed attack. 

The whole village gathers with murmurs of concern, pity, and fear.

In seeing no other way to prevent the attack, the town elder had announced a last resort solution, as provided with help from the adepti.

A sacrifice is to be made and sent to the stone mountains where it is told that their Great Lord and his dragon reside. A sacrifice must be made to their Archon in exchange for protection from the oncoming curse.

And with consultation from Adeptis Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver, you were chosen to be the offered one. 

"You want me to be a WHAT!?" Your eyes practically bulge from your head, and a panic rushes through you, thoughts spiralling as your heart tightens painfully in your chest.

Your outburst garnered further chatter from the rest of the town, some shouting their concern for you, others in protest of the decision made--but ultimately, it wasn't up to them.

The adepti themselves had chosen. 

Your ears rang with a high pitch, gaze hazy as you grew dizzy, struggling to breathe.

You couldn't hear what anyone else was saying--and quite frankly, you didn't want to, nor did you care.

A further immense feeling of fright pierced through you, causing your knees to buckle. It was those eyes again. 

'Dear archons,' You thought to yourself fearfully, 'am I going to die?'

The next forty-eight hours went by too fast, consisting of preparation for your departure, where a group of villagers would later escort you to the mountains and present you at its base before returning home.

And where you would be left alone, alongside barrels of fruit and meat offerings, and baskets of their finest silk and gold.

Then, it would be up to their Great Lord to make the decision. 

And so there you had been, fearful and adorned in opaque silks and fine threads, arms and legs decorated with pretty golden jewellery for an extravagent yet elegant appeal.

Your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, breath uncomfortably stuck in your throat as paranoia and terror consume you simultaneously. The feeling of eyes being burnt into your form had never left, and they had never felt so intense until then.

Staring at the mountain base with your back to the open field behind you, you felt your very soul ice over as a dark shadow swallowed you. You hadn't dared to look back, eyes wide with your skin pricked, breath stagnant as your base most instincts went wild; run.

But you felt you were dead before it had even approached.

You don't remember anything from that point on, only recalling a behemoth silhouette drowning yours before everything went silent and dark.

You had fainted.

But freedom! You cry in your mind, finding yourself awake inside a palace worthy bedchamber. You weren't eaten! Yay! CELEBRATE FOOL.

You notice a soft quilt upon you, its fabric smooth to the touch. Your hands tremble ever so slightly, nerves recovering from being shot. You swallow thickly, unsure of what to expect as you observe your surroundings.

The room is heavenly. Much grander than even the nobles in the nearest city, the room is vast and elegant, with artworks and calligraphy engraved into the stone walls. Cor lapis illuminates it all, along with the plentiful golden intricacies.

An elaborate archway to your left is separated from your room by a semi-sheer curtain, and you can hear the ever so soothing tinkling of water. A bathroom.

Placed along that same wall is a beautiful vanity and smaller archway separated similarly to the other. You can spy a more than generous number of hanging fabrics and neat, polished crates--a wardrobe.

The opposite side of the room displays practically half a library. Gorgeous bookshelves line the walls with ornate pillars and decorative foliage, a grand desk situated nearby with an equally as exquisite chair. The floor is covered by a soft carpet, accompanied by various cosy and inhumanely large pillows.

Nevermind, you must have been eaten, because this looks like heaven.

Mouth agape in bewilderment and disbelief, you slowly slip out from beneath the covers, tip toeing along the cool flooring into the middle of the room.

Your eyes graze over everything, and you're tempted to throw yourself indulgently into the giant pile of pillows just begging to be laid on.

Yet you restrain yourself because where the hell are you.

The large door across from you looks promising.

It takes a good hard push from you before it opens, though once it does the doors part for you effortlessly on their own. You pause, peeking out into the hallway skeptically before actually stepping out.

The door shuts quietly by itself one you're out of its way.

Interesting.

The corridor itself is daunting, both in size and extravagence. One side leads to an archway concealed by a thick red curtain, whilst the other reveals an opening into what appears to be a sun room.

Well, that looks promising.

Like everything else, the area is expansive and elegant. Sunlight bathes everything in a soft, golden glow, and water trickles pleasingly from ornate divets in the high stone walls, following a painstakingly carved path down into a rivet in the ground that outlines the floor plan.

Looking up into the high ceiling, your mouth drops in awe at the crystal clear glass encasing. In an octagonal, dome shape, the largest panes showcase stained glass designs, threading rainbow highlights here and there.

Thriving vines decorate the roofs edge, neatly climbing down the walls and curling around the spaced pillars that hold it all together. The plantation has been carefully placed as to not obstuct or corrode the ornate architecture.

In the centre of the room is a mound of silks and pillows with gold trims and intricacies, a large serpentine figure curled atop the delicate fabrics gracefully as it slumbers.

What.

Pause.

A dragon.

A fucking dragon.

Morax, Rex Lapis' dragon.

And you know it's Rex Lapis' dragon because who fucking else would have a dragon.

Your mouth drops in absolute horror at what you've stumbled upon, and you start to backtrack in silent terror when the slumbering creature begins to shuffle.

You internally curse yourself as the thing emits a sleepy grumble that vibrates the floor before locking eyes with you.

It blinks drearily, lazily yawning and smacking its maws before learning towards you with lidded amber eyes and a grounding purr.

You've been frozen in utter fear for the entirety of its slow awakening, and it huffs warm air into your wide eyed face once its levelled with you.

You let out a frightened squeak, blinking rapidly to recover from the assault while the serpentine creature rumbles contently. It looks... entirely unbothered by your presence.

You can't quite tell what it's thinking, its eyes watching you ever so intently, yet with a peculiar fondness that has you puzzled.

"He.. Hello, dragon," Your voice cracks, and you take a hasty bow to make up for it, "uh! Morax. Um, am I... aren't I suppose to be, uh, eaten..?"

Morax blinks at you cluelessly.

"As, uh, in sacrifice?"

The dragon huffs at you again, though this time much more sharply, as though offended. An odd keen gets stuck in its throat as it tilts its head before shaking out its mane.

Then, Morax leans towards you again with a grumbling coo, as though attempting to soothe you before nudging its large muzzle at your chest.

You stumble back from the unexpected contact, but the being only prods at you again until you gently guide its nose away with both hands. It retreats back into the rest of its curled form, watching you expectantly.

You reach a hand to where Morax had been poking, touching the thick cor lapis pendant situated on your chest in the shape of the geo symbol, secured by a deceivingly delicate looking gold chain.

"Oh this?" You look down at it from your awkward angle, "is something wrong with it?"

Morax lets out a curt grumble, not in warning or any form of vexation, but as a sort of prompt. Not quite.

You furrow your brows, "Then... does it mean something?"

Its grumbles again. Closer.

Your mind blanks, and you stare back at the beast that just blinks at you slowly. It makes no more sounds to edge you forwards, nor anymore mortion to aid your thinking. Instead, it watches you patiently, expectantly. Fondly.

"...You wanna... you wanna tell me?"

Your features flatten when the dragon emits an exaggerated yawn, crossing its massive paws and laying its head down upon them.

"Oh, you've got an attitude, you know," You frown at the mythical thing, and it closes its eyes teasingly in cheek.

You look at your pendant again. It had been provided by the Adeptis, and passed onto the village chief for when the chosen had been annouced. Then it was later given to you at the end of all your preparations, and you've been wearing it since.

Funnily enough, your preparations were similar to those of your wedding traditions--the older women fussing over your appearance while the men gathered gold and jewels to toss and offer up in symbolizing a rich, fruitiful future for the beweddeds.

The pendant is a similar heirloom typically passed from the more forthright intended to their beloved, as a way to show both their devotion, and their will to provide and protect.

The heirloom is usually something that represents the family from which it is given, as the receiver takes on their last name.

But your pendant is the geo symbol, your Archon's insignia.

Holy freaking shit you're wearing your Archon's insignia and it's not a vision.

Your stomach drops.

"O-Oh my god!" The pendant drops back into place on your chest, and you stare wide eyed at the serpent that daringly matches your panicked gaze, "I-I'm our Lord's intended!?"

"You're my one true friend Morax. But don't tell anyone I said that, that's kinda sad."

You distractedly scrub the dragon's scales by his neck, having moved on from his claws. You're dressed in thin bathing silks that cling to your figure from the water, parts of the fabric sheer upon your skin. You're not bothered though, it's only you and the dragon in this huge manor.

For the week or so that you've spent here, you've seen neither hide nor hair of your dear Archon. One part of you is curious as to why, seeing as this is his abode, though the other shudders at the prospect of running into him in person. You're still not mentally prepared for that.

You don't know how to talk to a god! Let alone how to your god--and that's not even mentioning the fact that you're technically supposed to be married to him.

Yeah. You've figured it out now.

No, you had not been sentenced to your death. No pain or any form of violence has been inflicted since your arrival, unless you want to count the dragon tormenting you with the fluff of its tail.

Stupid dragon.

Speaking of the damned creature, you've taken solace in its company. Although non-human, the dragon is a sentient being of its own, and though large and very much built for battle, Morax has been nothing but patient and gentle.

Ever so aware of your smaller being, the dragon has been careful with its every motion, bending its languid body elegently and fluidly to accomidate you. Even in a playful mood, Morax takes great care not to jostle you or startle you so.

You've claimed the overgrown reptile as your best friend in claws!

Morax had preened at the proclamation.

"Has our Lord been taking care of you? I haven't seen him once since I've been here. Do you think I've scared him off?" You snicker, wringing out the soaked cloth in the floral water you're seeping in, "ah, yes. As I am everything he should fear in a spouse. A merciless tongue and a non-existent sleep schedule."

In the furthest depths of this absolutely insanely huge manor, palace or whatever, is an opening in what you presume to be the back of the mountain.

Walls opening into a magnificent waterscape with a lazy lake and picturesque waterfalls, vines and flowers and brush decorating the scene with giant trees overshading parts of the water.

Morax snorts at your accusations, nostrils puffing non-aggravated smoke.

You move on to delicately rinsing the dragon's mane in parts, fingers sifting through the long, smooth fur to untangle any knots.

"Is he kind?"

From its once sleep tempted state, the beast perks up, opening its eyes to gaze at you. Sensing Morax's confusion, you give a tender smile while you brush a hand through its mane and over its scales.

"My betrothed, our Lord," The dragon croons softly, leaning its massive head down to rest its chin on your lap as you chuckle bashfully, "only you and the adepti know what he's really like. When he's not attending his duties, I mean."

You swallow thickly, worry glazing your eyes before being swiftly masked by a ginger smile as Moraz nudges you.

"I just... to be wedded to our Lord is just a fantasy. Who could I ever amass to in comparison to our Archon? I... don't think he will be cruel. But," Your eyes flutter to the side unsurely, "I don't want to live a lie."

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you slow in your movements which begin to cease. The water ripples around you at each notion, the air still and serene. Yet, despite the peace, you feel burdened.

No, not burdened.

Your brows crease in thought.

Perhaps dejected.

Although you have yet to meet, you've been provided with an abundance of wealth. It's evident your Lord is the spoiling type.

Your room is just one example, full of things you love and could lose yourself in for hours, alongside a wardrobe full of clothes you could only ever have previously dreamed of.

And you have the entire mountain to explore to entertain yourself--and it's not as though you were trapped.

You've gone flying with Morax twice now, and further explored the wilderness surrounding with the dragon's protective supervision. If you so truly wished, you could leave these hidden chambers to go elsewhere. To be honest though, you don't trust yourself to be able to find your way back.

The food is plentiful. Visiting the kitchens each morning and night, you find a feast is laden. And during the mid-day when you're hungry, or the late hours when you're peckish, the pantries are stocked in abundance.

A warm breeze caresses your shoulders, and the sound of the water trinkling melodically echoes a tranquil tune.

Morax purrs at you, and your smile saddens as you speak a dismal truth, "I will forever worship our Lord, not just for what he has provided me, but for him in all his existence. Though I admit, my heart will carry the dual burden of heartache."

The dragon blinks at you slowly, before reeling back in all its grace with a low croon. Its eyes are lidded, looking down at you in fondness and something else you can't quite place.

You puff a breathy laugh, reaching up a hand to cup the scales on its cheek. Despite the comically drastic size difference, the mystic being leans into your touch with a rumble.

"Thank you, Morax," You murmur, awed, "but I could ask nothing more from our dearest Archon who has given so much already. I only pray that someday he will find the one with whom he can truly return their affections."

A disgruntled huff escapes from the amber dragon's maw, and it shakes its head before leaning down to carefully press its horned head against yours.

A smile traces your lips, sincere gratitude oozing from your being as your eyes slip shut, nuzzling back against the smooth and damp scales of your mythical friend.

Another kind brush of air kisses your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. From behind your eyelids, a bright flash of light is muted, though you pass it off as naught.

Suddenly though, the scales you had cupped fit much better in your palm, a sensation much softer gracing your fingertips. Your brows furrow slightly as you feel the weight of the dragon's physical presence decrease. The water around you ripples greatly, though the atmosphere itself remains undisturbed.

The winds swoop gracefully as always, musical water cascades still singing their dream inducing tinkles while the scent of the surrounding natural flora soothes you.

You hear a gentle rumble, though much softer than the dragon before you. Your eyes gradually open, slinking up to lock onto the ethereal man leant into your loving caress.

Your gaze drifts to his nose, and then his lips, observing his attire that consists of layers of intricate brown and golden silks that float atop the water's surface.

And then you gasp, meeting eternally wise amber orbs that stare into yours knowingly.

Your muscles tense and your stomach drops, and you stumble back, almost tripping in the water.

At your sudden lurch in movement, the devastatingly handsome man fixes his arms around you, a gavelly chuckle sending a flush of heat to the tips of your ears as he pulls you flush against him.

"Y-You! I--" Embarrassment in all its forms overwhelms you while your beloved Lord himself stares down at you with lidded eyes, exuding elegance and unwavering strength just as he stands.

You don't dare look him in the eye, gaze latched shamefully onto the intricate details laced on the garment covering his chest. Your shame only increases once you notice the opening in the fabric that reveals part of his chest.

"M-My Lord..!"

Humiliation causes tears to prick at your eyes painfully.

But the dragon--his dragon, he is the dragon!

Heavens above, how utterly foolish could you be!?

Weeks you have spent confiding and bumbling about with that damned beast had you spilling the deepest depths of your heart and innermost being.

You would have never behaved in such a trecherous manner had you known it was your Lord! How disgusted he must be with you. How offended he must feel for the ignorant things you have speeled!

You clench your eyes shut, almost trembling in his grasp.

"My.. My most sincerest apologies, Lord Rex Lapis. I-I must avow that for each word I have spoken I never did intend-"

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" His voice is warm and low, a pleasant gravel that slinks into your ears like honey.

Rex Lapis--Morax, your very Archon who is one in the same, pulls himself back to admire you with fond eyes. Though his gaze is ever intense, the emotion he expresses is more than palpable.

His touch is tender, careful but full of longing, "Perish such nonsense from your mind. I, apologise, dear one," He leans down hopefully to meet your gaze, "for startling you so. And for withholding my true self for so long."

You flutter your eyes open, swallowing shakily when he smiles at you oh so adoringly.

"To be honest, I was... nervous. Unsure as to how you would perceive me."

"You? Nervous?" You incredulous tone has him breathe out a laugh.

"Indeed, dearest," You flush at the endearment, able to process it past your panic this time, "it is not everyday you are intended to a God. Now though, I see I should have been the one to welcome you first and foremost."

In contrast to his gentle touches and patient tone, a familiar cheeky twinkle sparkles in his eyes, "To think you thought you were a meat offering."

You blink up at him, horridly aghast at the mention of your initial misgrievances.

Forgetting your prior reservations about him as your Lord, no longer heeding your behaviour to such, you recognise that mischevious glint just as on the first day you had arrived.

A sense of relief floods your being, and you gradually untense in his tender grasp.

Though you're still unwilling to let him off unscathed.

"Who's the one who had me snatched up on such short notice?"

A sense of sheepishness has him ducking his head in self awareness, nodding acceptingly and in apology. A pink tint lines his fair cheeks at that.

But then he glances down at your drenched attire, and his flush deepens as a desire much too long forgone has him turning up his cheek a little more than he normally would.

"Well," He clears his throat distractedly, "who wouldn't at such a delightful temptation, hm?"

And then it's your turn to feel flushed.

Although he had left you lonesome in you first few weeks of stay, he more than made up for it in the coming nights.

And in response to your apprehensions and concern in being wedded to a God, he addressed them directly by providing you with an adoring reverence than even celestia would envy.

And he continued to do so, for the many years that would come.

For he had chosen you; his one and true beloved.

[bullet-prooflove]

The General!Series - Part Four: Moving On: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

A little get well soon gift for my girl @dizzybee03

Tagging: @kmc1989 @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @lxaah11 @librarian1002 

Broken Buttons (feat: Harmon Rabb)- Beau discovers the real reason you broke things off with him.

Messy - Companion piece to Broken Buttons - Beau discovers the truth about what happened that night.

Choices - Companion piece to Broken Buttons and Messy - Beau and you discuss your choices moving forward.

Sitting in court is excruciating but Beau endures it, he endures it because no matter how fucking horrified and nauseated he is, you must feel it tenfold. He can’t imagine what it must be like to sit in front of a room of your peers and describe what that man did to you, to have your story questioned and torn apart, to have someone tell you to your face that you were asking for it. They try to paint you as unstable, the kind of woman who intended to sleep her way up the ladder, whose now crying wolf because she was rebuked.

He almost punches the prosecution attorney in the mouth for the shit he says to you. It’s only Mic Brumby’s iron clad grip on his arm that stops him from launching himself across the table and strangling the man.

It’s the physical evidence that’s the worst.

You had the competency to go to the hospital afterwards, you’d been bleeding, scared when the doctor had seen you. You’ve worked with enough women through your time in Victim Support Services to know the procedures, you needed the morning after pill, medication to counteract anything that son of a bitch might have given you.

The hospital had logged you under an anonymous patient I.D. It’s something they do for victims of sexual assault when they collect evidence, when they’re not ready to file a police report.

It sickens Beau to hear the injuries you’d sustained, he hadn’t realised how violent it was, not until then.

You’re found not guilty of the offense. The jury of your peers accepts that you acted in self-defence when you broke the General’s nose, that you were too traumatised to attend work in the aftermath.

Your case, it opens doors for other women it’s happened to because you weren’t the first woman he did it to, you weren’t even the last. He’s arrested during a charity function for victims of sexual assault and the fucking irony of that astounds Beau.

You spend an hour in the shower after you give your testimony, before you fall asleep on the couch with your head in Beau’s lap. He spends the whole night, his fingers running soothingly through your hair as he begins to plan the next steps.

You’ve told him you can’t stay in Washington, that Admiral Chegwidden has granted you a transfer back to San Diego. There’s too much trauma attached to this place.

He spends the next couple of days helping you pack up your things. You throw away more away than you keep because you don’t want the bad memories following you. Harmon Rabb and Mic Brumby turn up on moving day to help carry the boxes down to the truck. Besides him, they’re the only two people who’s touch you don’t flinch away from these days.

“Thank you.” Beau tells Harm when the two of them are alone in the apartment, grabbing the final few boxes. “For bringing me here, for fighting for her.”

“Don’t thank me.” Harm says, his voice gruff as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares out of the window. “It happened on my watch. I  was there that night, I should have stuck around but me and Mac were going through some shit…”

Harm shakes his head, his jaw clenching.

“It never should have happened.”

Beau sighs, shifting the box he’s carrying to his other hip.

“Ally doesn’t blame you and neither do I.” Beau tells the other man. “If it wasn’t that night, it would have been another. You heard the testimony, once he had her in his sights…”

It was the same with all the others, that son of bitch had enjoyed the chase, it made catching his prey all the more sweeter. He treated every single one of those women like a trophy, something to be hunted down, caught.

“I need you to promise that you’ll check in every once in a while, tell me how she’s doing.” Harmon says, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck.

“I will.” Beau tells Harm as he picks up the remaining box and heads towards the apartment door. “Ally may need a little time but I’ll make sure to keep in touch.”

“She’s going to get through this.” Harm reassures him as they step out into the hallway, he waits as Beau closes the door behind him, locking it up for the final time. “It’ll take some time but she has it in her.”

“I know.” Beau says as he slips the key into the mailbox for the landlord to pick up. “If anyone can make it through something like this, it's her.”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[whoishotteranimepolls]

Fandom Observation Nicknames and Funny Tags: Part Jujutsu Kaisen

To add to my fandom behaviors and trends series. I thought it would share some of the funny or slutty nicknames some of the fandoms have given to their characters because trust me some had me laugh out loud and deserve more attention due to the creativity. Not just the nicknames. The tags have also been something to behold. But just in case that's not your thing, I did put a break in the post so expand at your own risk

Now let me make myself perfectly clear this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me.

So, let's start with Jujutsu Kaisen because that fandom is the best when it comes to nicknames and absolutely hilarious tags. So here are some of my favorites and they have at least one for every character

Kento Nanami: The Linkedin Daddy, The eldest daughter's dream man, " When you're tired of trying to fix him and now want a man that can fix you", The malewife, "The smutty wolf of Wall Street," "A man that could make a housewife out of anyone", Nanami 'i break walls with creeps and kneel for women' Kento," & Corporate Bae.

Gojo: "The unstable himbo", Everything the youngest child has ever dreamed of, The I could fix him (no one can fix him), A little freak affectionate

Geto: The "mentally ill genocidal pookie", "a DILF that fathered so hard he mothered", The middle child's dream man, & Precious baby girl who has done nothing wrong in their entire life (has literally committed terrorism and murder), "my princess with disorders."

Toji Fushiguro: "A horrible father that just happens to be unreasonably hot", Darling dirtbag, Extra wide blorbo, Precious beef cake, it would be worth the STD, hear me out the worm offers some interesting possibilities, my precious darling deadbeat, babygirl, The things I would let him do to me,

Choso: "His sunken eyes and depressed swag have captivated me", my little emo boy, "he is a beautiful angel and i want to sit on his face until he drowns in my p**** juice", pookie, big handsome kitty, baby daddy, mr. rideable nose, 150 y/o virgin.

Mahito: A "beloved princess with a disorder", "When you just want to freak who's objectively a monster"

Sukuna: "When you're down for atrocities", I might not survive but it would be worth it & Four armed daddy,

Yuki Tsukumo: "My tall and buff queen", & dommy mommy with a motorcycle.

I think everyone can tell the fandom favorites and if I see any more in the future I will add them. But I hope at least someone gets a laugh out of these and thank you to the people who put these nicknames or phrases in the comments, tags and multiple anonymous messages received.

And just in case you're feeling called out JJK fandom this is just part 1 of a series. I have multiple other fandoms posts started in the draft box

[pansexual-puppy-pack]

day 4 of @theoraekenapperciation 's theo week 2024: canon divergence!

What if Theo was found by Parrish after Season 6A?

partly inspired by @multifandom-damnation 's fic Heart coming up my throat, think I'm getting worse at breathing !!

Jordan probably shouldn't have been surprised to find the Tundra at its most frequent spot—just west of the Preserve, a couple miles out from where his internal map placed the Nemeton. He turned the cruiser off and approached the truck.

There was a scent there; familiar, but only in passing. This was a supernatural creature the Hellhound was meant to be protecting, but something wasn't right. It might've been the sharp presence of night terrors or fear in John Doe's scent or the simple fact that Jordan couldn't identify what kind of creature this was based on their scent. That was wrong. He was a Hellhound—that was basically his whole thing. He was getting two conflicting ideas: Werewolf and Werecoyote, and unless there were two people in that truck—unlikely, considering the singular, lightning-quick pulse Jordan heard—this might have been one of the surviving chimeras from the Dread Doctors incident last year, which meant only one true result.

Jordan gently rapped on the glass window, immediately waking the kid up.

He groaned. "Come on,"

That voice. Jordan quickly placed it, the conclusion becoming clear in his mind. "Theo?"

Theo Raeken jolted to a seating position and brought his body forward to look at him. "Parrish."

Fuck. Theo should not have let this happen. He hurriedly pushed the hood off his head and started packing up his pillow and blanket. Fuck. Why was Parrish here? Theo had memorized most of the Deputies' and Park Rangers' routes by then, and he should not have been there at that time on that day—it would've been fine if literally any other officer had found him.

He kept an ear out for anything Parrish would feel, think, or say. He probably knew better than to ask what a teenager is doing, sleeping in his car by the Preserve, right? (If Theo saw this coming, he would've parked further within, but he could only take so many precautions. Fuck!)

He'd almost completely cleaned up his backseat before Parrish decided to say something.

"So _you're_ the John Doe that keeps popping up in our system," Parrish said, and—somehow—Theo knew he meant it without judgement, without malice, and—somehow—with understanding.

Theo wanted to beg him not to identify him in the system, wipe the record clean—anything to keep him anonymous in the eyes of law enforcement. The last thing he needed right now was a fine or a sentence; or worse, an impoundment.

Instead, he just nodded. "Apparently." Only then did he realize that they'd been having a conversation separated by the truck's windows, but that never really mattered to supernatural creatures anyway, so he ignored it.

Parrish exhaled from his nose, and Theo could imagine little tendrils of fire following it like a cartoon dragon.

He seemed to be deliberating. Whatever was going on in his mind, Theo really didn't want to stick around and find out, but all he did was crawl into the driver's seat and wait.

"How about," Parrish started, slow, like he was talking to a startled creature—which, honestly, couldn't describe Theo more at that moment. "I take you to my place? I have a spare mattress and a decent space heater."

Theo shook his head. He could find his own way. "I can't—"

—Parrish stopped him with a casual hand. "Just for a night, or..." After a short pause, a decision was made in Parrish's head. It's like Theo could see it.

"...Or I'll tell Scott."

Fuck. He got him—that was the best answer Parrish could've possibly given. (And he seemed to know it, given the scent Theo detected.)

Theo clicked his tongue. "Which way?"

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Nomen Nescio | chapter 1

Out of all of his names, he’s always felt the most comfortable with Danny Fenton. -- Nomen nescio - used to signify an anonymous or unnamed person. Translated from lating, it means "I do not know the name." 5th Installment of the Hey Brother AU

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3]

MASERLIST // Next Chapter → Out of all of his names, he’s always felt the most comfortable with Danny Fenton. It was his identity, who he was and how he viewed himself for a good few centuries. Regardless of how much he’s changed, he’d always believe himself to be Danny Fenton at his core. That the Fentons don’t exist in this universe also means that it’s a handy pseudonym for whenever he wants to remain under radar. Jack Fenton, Mattie Fenton, Jasmin Fenton; all identities he’s assumed in one way or another. Sometimes he’d even parade around as Sam Manson or Tucker Foley. 

(He contemplated going by Vlad Masters for a solid ten seconds before shuddering at the idea. He wanted to remain anonymous, not picked out for having such an obvious villain name.)

After Danny Fenton, he felt most at home with the name al Ghul. It was the name he was given in this life, lovingly chosen by his mother. If it were not for that single fact, he might have discarded himself of the name entirely.

Danyal al Ghul was everything Danny Fenton was not. The prodigal son. The Demon’s Heir. Pride of the League. An accomplished assassin, a proficient killer, the unseen shadow. The name alone cultivated a reputation of fear even without his interference (he blamed Ra’s for that). But it was a name that he’d grown up with. A name his mother chose. A name that gave him a brother. So even if he did not love the name, he still saw some part of himself in it. It was a version of himself he chose to be in this life, for better or for worse.

Wayne was the name that sat heavy and uncertain on his tongue. A name that he did not think of as his own, even when it was offered freely. The name evoked a legacy. Of pioneers, of architects, of doctors, of the forefathers of Gotham in all its smog and glory. Of hope, of justice, of the weak becoming strong to protect those who cannot do so themselves. It was the name of heroes.

And Danny—whether Fenton or al Ghul—was not a hero in this life. In the grand scheme of things, he was barely a hero in the last.

He could be a hero if he wanted to. He had the suit, the powers, and even the backstory. And he was certain worse people than him had turned over a new leaf and decided to pursue the path of righteousness. But the fact of the matter is that Danny didn’t want to.

He’s had that life already. And heroism just didn’t hold the same appeal it once did when he was fourteen and living in a different universe.

But just because he wasn’t a hero in this life, doesn’t mean he’d sit idly by when innocent people are in trouble in front of him.

Shades lowered, scarf firmly wrapped over his nose, and hood up, Danny ripped the emergency doors off the back of a school bus and ushered all the kids out. Just minutes later, a huge chunk of falling debris smashed onto the now empty bus.

Ah, Metropolis. Why did he wanna come here again?

Superman crashed onto the road, leaving a boulder-sized crater into the asphalt. He burst from the rubble unharmed, firing off his laser vision at the giant robot looming in the distance.

Right. It’s because he wanted to see aliens. 

Danny helped the bus driver usher the kids into some nearby safe zone, mostly by making sure there were no stragglers. He kept watch over the battle at the corner of his eye, but paid no mind after Superman bounded into the air, probably leading the robot away from them. 

One of the little kids—maybe a few years younger than Damian—tugged at his sweater. “You were so strong, mister! You just ripped the door right off!”

Danny couldn’t help the grin on his face. He ruffled the kid’s hair. “That’s cuz I eat all my vegetables.”

“Nuh uh! You’ve definitely got super powers or something. Ooh, or you’re an alien like Superman!”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, kid. I’m not an alien or anything.”

Danny scampers off before the rest of the kids start getting ideas. 

He follows the fight as best he could in between aiding in civilian duty, and taking advantage of the chaos to switch up his disguises. It was rare for him to cross paths with a hero when he worked for the League of Shadows, so he was curious at how effective they were in a fight. He’d sifted through the League’s databases when he was younger so he had a basic idea of who the current big names were and their power sets, but it was nothing like watching them battle in real life. 

Superman, surprisingly, kept his distance during the fight. He used his heat vision, cryo-breath, and even resorted to just chucking massive pieces of debris at the robot to keep his distance. Wonderwoman and Green Lantern seem to be doing a lot of the heavy hitting up close, and he thinks he’d seen the Flash zipping around somewhere. 

The robot probably had a heavy stock of kryptonite on it, which means Lex Luthor.

Damn rich people.

The robot fired off two large shells of its weapon. The projectiles flew at high-speeds towards Superman— before suddenly changing course and homing towards…Danny? 

Oh Lex Luthor that bitch. 

Before Danny could even raise his own shields, Superman comes barreling in front of Danny and zipped him away as the shell impacted the earth. Superman let out a low whistle. “Well, that was a close one.”

The rounded shell suddenly popped open, releasing a cloud of green gas. Seconds later, more canisters lodged themselves in the ground around them, covering the intersection in a thick cloud of green smoke. And as if fate didn’t hate Danny enough, a strong wind blew the gas over towards them.

Superman toppled to the ground, doubled-over as he breathed in the gas. Aerosolized kryptonite? How fun.

A couple streets over, Danny starts seeing a bunch of smaller robots roaming around and causing chaos in the streets, further dividing the heroes’ attention.

Danny sighed. “You just had to jinx it, didn’t you?” 

Superman looked at him like he just grew a second head— which hadn’t happened in centuries mind you. Learning how to clone yourself is hard no matter how easy Vlad makes it look. “You need to get out of here,” he shouted between coughs. “It’s dangerous!”

That he actually contemplates leaving Superman here as a hoard of giant spider-robots was enough of a reason to make Danny stay. Those thoughts were the devil talking. And by the devil, he meant Ra’s. “Trust me when I say that you’re probably at the safest place you can be.” Danny slams his palm onto the ground. “By the way, you don’t need air to breathe, right?

“I— well, no, but what are you—?”

A single purposeful tug at his ghostly energy creates a dome of bright green light around them. Those years of solitude gave him enough time to experiment the extent of his powers, both in his ghost form and outside it. One of the very cool things he learned with shields is that he could manipulate the energy and permeability of the ectoplasm in such a way that he could create his very own little vacuum chamber inside. Which meant that he could suck all of the airborne kryptonite out of Superman’s radius. 

There would still be some kryptonite in his system, but at least he won’t be inhaling more of it.

The only downside of all of this is that Danny did have to fortify his own human lungs to be able to keep breathing. He was still technically walking around as a human right now.

“What in the—”

“Oh! Looks like back-up is coming.”

In the distance, the distinct shape of the batwing soars overhead, sending rounds and rounds of ammunition at Luthor’s robot.  There’s an explosion at its front, sending off a chain reaction as both of the machine’s arms are blown off. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a series of numbers right out of his head. (His phones had a tendency to break, so saving numbers just became too much of a hassle every time he had to get a new one.)

 The call picks up on the second ring. 

 “Hey Bats! Your little superfriend over here got gassed with some kryptonite.” At the corner of his eye, Danny just sees Superman mouth what in the world under his breath. No swearing? Really? Huh, must be the boy scout in him. “He’s safe, but I’d rather you take him off my hand before he starts asking questions.”

(His sharp hearing picks up Superman’s mumbled “I don’t even know what questions to start asking.”)

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other line, before he eventually hears a strangled sigh and a raspy “Copy that, just stay there. Don’t move.”

Danny hangs up and pockets his phone. “Welp, better hang tight Supes, because your knight in shining…kevlar? (I think it’s kevlar) is coming to pick you up soon.” He steps out of the dome he’d created, picking up a fallen metal baseball bat from the ground.

“Wait— ok, putting aside the fact that you somehow have the Batman’s phone number, I am 100% sure he told you to stay put.”

“Yeah, well…” He twirls the bat in his hand, thinking back to that one mobile game he’s been enjoying. “Rules are made to be broken.”

He takes a swing at the nearest spider robot, hard enough to dent the titanium skull. 

***

Ten minutes and thirty-something smashed robots later, Danny flagged down the Justice League to pick up their wayward companion. 

Superman—who begrudgingly stayed put inside the ecto-shield because a) he couldn’t leave, b) even if he could the kryptonite gas just refused to disperse, and c) the League looked like they were wrapping things up soon anyway—breathed a sigh of relief as Flash created a vortex that cleared the air. 

“Thanks, Flash.” And then turning to Danny, he flashed those pretty pearly whites and put out his hand to shake. “And thank you, too, for all your help. Though I don’t think I managed to catch your name there, son.”

Son, son, son. There was a time when Danny was newly born into this world where he flinched at the word, too unused to being called anyone’s son after his parents passed away. 

(At the ripe old age of 92, passing within seconds of the other because Jack and Maddie had been attached at the hip ever since they fell in love. Much to Danny’s surprise, a whole symposium of scientists came to attend his parents’ funeral. He’d always pictured his parents as the weird and kooky scientists no one outside of Amity took seriously. Sure, they revolutionized the entire world’s view of science and the afterlife and essentially found a way to make interdimensional travel possible, but they were his parents.)

(Jack: his dad who drove recklessly but always somehow avoided getting his license revoked, who made a fudge so delicious it could be classified as a sin, and who never failed to be there for Danny whenever he was down.)

(Maddie: his mom who knew a thousand ways to break someone’s bones with just a paperclip, but couldn't cook a single unburned or irradiated meal to save her life, who nurtured Danny’s love of space and helped him build his first flight module.)

(He loves Talia, he really does. She’s his mother, but Maddie and Jack were his mom and dad. Like he was first and foremost Danny Fenton, he has, and always will be, their son.)

Danny doesn’t flinch at the word now. 

It’s one word, and it’ll hold about as much meaning as he lets it.

He kicks the head of his bat off the ground and swings it to rest at his shoulder. “It’s no problem,” he says, completely ignoring Superman’s angling for his own name. “I was getting bored of sightseeing anyway.”

“Sightseeing?” Flash let out a laugh. “You must be fun at parties if your solution to getting bored is smashing robots into bits. Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. New meta?”

Danny tilted his head to the side and shrugged, letting them interpret that answer however they wanted to. It was always fun seeing what people came up with to explain, well, him. 

“So this is your first time in Metropolis, then?” Superman asked, eyes narrowed. Not that Danny was thinking about it, wasn’t Superman’s day job a reporter or something? He could see the gears turning in the other’s mind, pulling out that proverbial red string on the corkboard to piece all his information together. “It’s…not exactly the best first impression of the city, but I’d like to welcome you anyway.”

Danny shook his hand firmly, but didn’t tap into his well of superhuman strength to make a point. “Well, might not be the best but it sure is the most exciting first impression I’ve had. It’s the first superhero fight I’ve seen this close, you know!” He didn’t know how much,if any, Superman already knew about him. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really know whether he cared if Superman investigated him or not.

It could go either way. Dany wasn’t a threat to Superman, and there really isn’t anything that Superman has that Danny would go to great lengths to fight for. Bruce had already given his permission to see Damian whenever he wanted. And with Danny’s own…let’s say semi-calculated heart-to-heart, Bruce was unlikely to change his mind about Danny anytime soon.

He’s learned a lot about public personas since his debut days as Phantom. Bruce was a sentimental person to the core. The paradigm of Danny being some lost, wayward child that was hesitant, but willing, to someday join the family was a hope too alluring to discard so easily.

(Danny didn’t lie when he told Bruce he was bad at planning in advance. But just because Danny’s bad at long-term plans, it doesn’t mean that he can’t capitalize and build on an advantage when he sees one. Call it the al Ghul in him. The Wayne in him, even.)

“Really?” Superman pressed. “I would’ve thought you’d seen plenty in Gotham.” “A Gothamite?” Flash perked, face suddenly inches away from Danny’s to get a closer look. Danny barely resists the urge to pat his face to check if his disguise was still on. “So he’s one of B’s kids? Strange, I don’t recognize this one. Unless he got a new one— which, y’know, is kinda par for the course here. But really where does he keep finding all of these kids?”

“I don’t find them. They find me.”

Flash nearly jumps ten feet in the air at the sound of Batman’s voice coming from behind him. “Jesus christ, Bats! Where did you come from?” 

Danny raised an eyebrow and pointed to the Batwing that’s been hovering above the skyline a little ways away from them. “You seriously didn’t see the giant fighter jet over there?”

“Well clearly not!”

Batman turns to Superman, business as usual. “Are you alright? Any lingering effects?”

“Oh just some weakness but it’ll be gone in a jiff. I got a lot of help from your…friend? Friend, over here.”

Batman grunts, looking Danny up and down for any injuries. There were none, of course. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Danny set the bat down on the ground, leaning his weight against it. “Got bored. Got curious. You know how I am when I’m curious.”

“Does your mother know that you’re here?”

Danny’s eyes widened. “She told you?”

Talia specifically requested that Danny not be sent on any missions in or near cities claimed by heroes. Specifically heroes with a strong connection to the Justice League. More than likely it was to deter Batman from finding out their connection to each other until the time was right, but when it comes to Talia, one could hardly say. 

Batman raised a brow. “So does she?”

“Of course she does. She always knows where I am even when I don’t tell her. Probably had me microchipped or something, I don’t know.”

Superman and Flash sent very concerned looks towards them. Danny waved off their concerns with a laugh. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. She doesn’t do that.” 

At least, Danny hoped Talia didn’t do that. There was an unnervingly high likelihood that Talia would have placed a tracker on him at some point, but Danny would rather not think about the possibility. Ignorance is its own form of bliss after all. 

Flash cups a hand to the side of his mouth and whispers to Superman. “I really feel like we’re missing out on something over here.”

Batman grunts again. He inclines his head at Danny. “Would you care to introduce yourself?”

Which brings Danny back to the dilemma he’s had since his rebirth: what name to go by. That’s the problem with having too many names; they can be attached to various distinct and overlapping identities that it’s difficult to choose which one is the best to go by. 

It’s nice to know that Batman wouldn’t dispute him if Danny decided to give a fake name.

Wayne was an immediate no go. He could already see it now: the shock, the surprise, the curiosity, and next thing you know within twenty-four hours the whole Justice League is knocking at his door to learn more about Batman’s new kid. Even if the sound of Danny Wayne didn’t make him uneasy, he still wouldn’t go for it. Yeah, no thanks.

Al Ghul would probably be closer to the truth, but it was a dangerous option to make. The League of Shadows were still a formidable group with a lot of enemies from both sides of the moral spectrum, and Danyal al Ghul had a reputation that would mark him as an enemy on sight, Bat or no Bat.

Which left Fenton as the safest option. It was an unknown name with no added complications. Hell, he didn’t even have to go by Danny if he still wanted some anonymity.

But…

It was one thing to use the name with strangers he’d never see again. Giving that name to people that were connected to him to some degree felt…exposing. He’s never even shared that name with Damian, and he’s closest to Damian out of anyone. 

Which left one option. 

Just fucking with them.

Danny gives an exaggerated bow. “The name’s Nathaniel Edward Mortimer Olysseus, at your service.” He winks. “Well, not for much longer now, anyway.” 

And then he drops a smoke bomb, leaving behind a confused Flash, and an equally amused Batman and Superman.

***

OMAKE:

It’s later on when The Flash is recounting the story to Wonder Woman—and by the small chuckle she gave at the name—did Flash realize the mystery man’s trick.

“Olysseus is one of the many variations of the Greek hero Odysseus,” Diana explained. 

Nathaniel Edward Mortimer Olysseus.

N.E.M.O.

Nobody.

Flash buried his face in his hands. “Can’t believe I fell for that. Should’ve known he wouldn’t say his actual name.”

Superman shrugged. “What can you expect? He’s a Bat.”

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT/FEDERATION MAGAZINE: OCTOBER 2011

SMACKDOWN Q+A

The LOCKSMITH

Daniel Bryan submits to our most probing questions, and reveals the secrets to surviving a detached retina, escaping deportation and starting a catchy crowd chant.

BY JOHN MIHALY PHOTOGRAPHY BY MARIUS BUGGE

Your submission maneuver rarely fails to make foes tap out. Think it might be time to re-name your version of the LeBell Lock to something a little more Daniel Bryan-centric?

No. I like referring to people who’ve built this industry. There’s not enough of the history out there anymore. It’s like all of that’s been pulled back. So I hope to continue calling it the LeBell Lock. That said, I am a submissions expert, and I certainly have more than one submission maneuver in my arsenal. You’ll be seeing more of them very soon.

Compared to the ups and downs of 2010, this year has been a huge success for you, culminating with your Money In The Bank win. Did your first year in WWE teach you anything that the Indies never could?

Just that you have to adapt to every environment you’re in..but I’ve been doing that my whole career. I never expected to be fired and then rehired two months later. I certainly didn't expect to become the U.S. Champion so quickly after I was rehired. Wrestling here is no different from wrestling in Japan for the first time: You have to get your bearings, and you have to wrestle that style. Here, you have to adapt to things like live televised matches.

What’s the one biggest sacrifice you made during your journey to WWE?

That’s hard to say. But one thing I definitely hope will never happen again is losing hearing in one of my ears. I ruptured my eardrum, but I never got it fixed. That’s something that can be easily fixed, but as an independent wrestler, you can’t take time off, so I just kept going. Plus I can barely see out of one eye because I detached my retina back in 2007.

Sounds painful! But no worse than spending time with The Miz. Did you know that you actually have something in common with your former WWE NXT “mentor”? You’ve both been hosed out of a match at WrestleMania.

How did you react when you were bumped off the card at The Show of Shows?

I go with the flow with a lot of things. Obviously, it was upsetting. Nobody told us beforehand or pulled us aside and said, “Listen guys, we’re sorry.” That was the most disappointing thing. And of course, I wanted that ‘Mania moment. You’re not going get it in a pre-show match. But, once I slept in the trunk of my car, so it wasn’t the end of the world. 

You collect vinyl records, you don’t own a TV, and you spend a lot of time reading. Is it safe to call you “The Lo-Fi Superstar”?

Well, there’s just so much mental pollution out there. I was rooming with a fellow Superstar, who will remain anonymous. He was watching TV and said, “Aw, there’s nothing on.” So he tossed me the remote. So what did I do? I turned off the TV. He complained, “Why are you turning it off? What are we going to do? Just sit here in this silence?” I said, “Yes, yes we are.”

No TV, no alcohol, no meat…what vices do you have, other than making opponents tap out?

That’s a loaded question. Maybe I think too much. It makes it hard for me to sleep. William Regal always likes to say, “Once you don’t start sleeping, then the carnival starts.” I don't have a lot of vices, per se. I have a very clear mind, and I fall asleep very easily at night. It’s staying asleep that’s the problem. Once I'm awake that first time, I'm done. 

What’s a tasty vegan dish that every nose-in-the-air omnivore should try?

There are so many. My favorite place to eat is the Red Velvet Cafe in Las Vegas. It’s got regular food, it’s got vegetarian food, and it’s got vegan food. Anything that’s on the menu they can make vegan or vegetarian. Their namesake, the red velvet cake, is a cupcake that’s vegan. I’ve given it to nonvegans and they say it’s the best red velvet cake they’ve ever had. It’s unreal. They tell me it's only 180 calories. I don't buy it for a second, because you pick it up and it’s so dense, but then you think, “Well, the stuff in here isn’t made with cow fat,” so maybe it’s true. 

You might be the most positive Superstar in WWE, as far as dealing with the daily grind goes. How do you keep your head up while on the road 200-plus days per year?

In WWE, it’s very easy for people to say, “Oh, this sucks” or, “Oh, I'm beat up.” In the Indies, you’re also beat up. You’re just making a lot less money. If you’ve been wrestling in the Indies for 10 years and you get here, nothing seems bad. I’ve had to literally sleep outside of a door because I was locked out of the place where I was staying in England. I've been deported. I was going from Japan to England and I didn't have a work permit, so when I got to England, they said, “We have to deport you back to Japan because that’s where you came from.” I said, “Going back to Japan does me no good, because then I don't have a work permit to get in there, either.” So I had to pay for a flight back to Los Angeles. But in the meantime, they stuck me in this room with all these other people being deported. They asked me, “Where are you from?” I said, “I’m an American.” And then they said, “Oh, you should have lied, man.” It was kind of scary. I was stuck in Heathrow Airport for 24 hours.

Lastly, your followers were infamous for delivering a rather un-PG chant whenever you entered the ring. Any less crude chants you might suggest they shout out these days?

“You’re going to get your freakin’ head kicked in!” It’s based on a British soccer chant. They have the best chants. It’s just one of those things I heard and I thought, “I’m going to try and get this started at a wrestling show” And I did. People were having a hard time with the beat, but eventually they got it. Once it came out on DVD it just spread. It’s funny how things spread so quickly. Have you read that book, The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell? It gives a really good explanation about how things just like that chant gain popularity. Give it a read. 

[sunsetofdoom]

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

[grimaces] I am really good at dialogue! And complex choreographed scenes (sex, fighting, body language, blocking) aren't absolute hell for me to write, for some reason, which I'm given to understand most writers struggle with. I love them. It might have something to do with how I see everything happening more like a movie.

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

It changes a lot with character voice. I try really hard to match the voices of the character's POV, so I have to get good at different voices really fast with each new hyperfixation, lmao.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

(Answered here)

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I keep being torn about wanting to find people to talk about The Owl House with, and wanting to stay buried in my hole of anonymity because that fandom sounds like a trash fire. But I'm disconcertingly in love with all the fucked-up characters that they introduced and then gave rapid character development to so that I didn't get nearly enough of them being grasping wrecks that I could put into pringles cans and shake. So. Have a story concept where I basically tip pre-character-development Amity, Hunter, and Willow into a big jar and then pound on the glass.

Willow leaned on the wall outside the throne room, staring at her shoes, waiting to be called and introduced. It was like the first day of school, only much, much worse. She swallowed, hard, willing her stomach to settle down. At least at school, there were familiar faces, however unfriendly. Here, she had nothing and no one; under the vaulted golden ceilings, she’d never felt more alone in her life.

Her head whipped up at a noise, on the jump. Relief rushed her- the one familiar thing in the whole world was that golden mask, and the boy behind it. “Hi,” she said, barely more than a whisper, as the tall silhouette of the Emperor's Golden Guard strode past in the crossing hallway. He was probably too far away to hear it, but that was fine. He’d be in there when she entered, and she could look up and find him.

Improbably, he stopped, the mask coming to face her with a blank stare. He carried his staff slung over one shoulder, almost casually; why would he carry that around in what was basically his house? The gold mask was a little unnerving, but Willow looked right into the slitted eyes and waved anyways.

Checking over his shoulder, he turned, coming over to her. When he was sure no one was looking, he tipped the mask up, resting it under the cowl so she could see his face. Pale and angular, with serious eyes, he checked her over with a concern so intense it felt like anger.

“Are you okay?” The question was more of a demand.

Willow tried to make herself smile, and failed. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she admitted.

Hunter’s face softened, and he bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said, fiddling with his hands. “I get that, too. You don’t. Uh... usually.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “That helps.”

He wrinkled his nose at her. “Just remember,” he said like a lecture, “Walk like you’re better than everybody in that room.”

“'Chin up, shoulders back,'” Willow quoted him from the flight here. “But- I don’t feel like I’m better than anybody.”

Hunter shrugged, the staff bobbing up and down on his shoulder. “Um. I- when it’s... hard. I like to, um. I try to look at somebody I do know I’m better than. And pretend they’re the only one there. So.” He smiled, sheepish, the gap in his teeth visible and making him look his age for a cheerful moment, and when she looked at him skeptically, he cast his eyes to the floor. “...Usually it’s Kikimora. She’s pretty pathetic.”

Startled into a huff of laughter, Willow glanced back to the huge, heavy doors. “I don’t know...” she said, her smile fading.

He tilted his head, contemplating. “The Blight girl’s in there. With Darius. You’re a lot less of a suck-up than she is, I can tell you that.”

Willow laughed, bitter and cold. She pictured Amity’s perfect snub-nosed face, looking down on her for years. Very cruel, and very... small. A girl who cried when her older siblings bullied her, but couldn't wait to turn around and needle somebody else in retaliation.

Yeah. Willow was better than that.

(fic writer asks)

[dark9896]

Do NOT [Raju x Reader]

This fun little fic was requested by anonymous 😤

You were sitting on the office couch, generally ignoring how Zapp was tormenting Leo... again, scrolling through your pictures when you felt something press against your shoulder.

"What the hell is that?"

Zapp's arm invaded your space to forcibly move back a couple pictures. Try as you might to shake him and pull your phone from view...

"No-oh-oh f&cking way you trained under that floating dish cloth." He scoffed, "Not having a picture like that. So what's the catch? Don't tell me you have a crush on that... thing."

You groaned, pushing Zapp away, "Nose down before it gets cut."

Zapp started to grin like the Cheshire cat when Steven started barking orders. A blood breed had made their presence known in the subway again. It was all hands on deck.

A fight like this in such a confined space was never easy, but luring the blood breed out into the open was almost impossible. And being the bait for such a task had you on edge so badly. By hook or by crook, you managed it. Only to be cut off by a very upset Raju as he pulled you behind himself.

Oh boy, you'd been trying to keep your relationship with Raju secret from the rest of Libra, but this would be one huge red flag. Given Zapp's outburst earlier.

Though with the blood breed reduced to ashes before anyone could catch up, and Raju not wanting you to be the telephone for any whimsy that the rest of Libra might have in store. He was attempting to leave when Zapp started kicking up a fuss.

"OI! RAT AND A HALF!!" That just made Raju's blood boil, "YOU GOT AN ADMIRER!!"

Raju couldn't contain his curiosity. Turning to see Zapp pointing at you and then get sucker punched to his back, Raju couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Though he would have to get you to consider leaving Libra. Yes you were a talented fang hunter, but if they were just going to have you in danger like that all the time...

Raju would take things into his own hands....hand.

[glorytv]

you are now watching saerintv.

huh yunjin, twenty2, cis female, she/her.  ───  3, 2, 1 — action!  everyone, we’re here at jincheon national training center, and this time i have with me our national gymnastics team’s very own hwang saerin. you might know them for being a 2019 worlds gold medalist in uneven bars and a longines prize for elegance recipient, but if not, don’t worry. they’re here to field all your burning questions. let’s dive right in.

thanks for joining us today. so, tell me… 

what does it mean to you to represent the country on the world stage?

"cliche to say 'it means a lot', but... it really does," she starts with a chuckle, "i've literally been working towards this since i was born, so. i know some people will say i don't deserve it since i was chosen before and ..." she hesitates, exhaling through her nose before continuing, "ghosted everyone, and i don't have an excuse for that. not a good one, at least. i'm super thankful that i was given a second chance, and i'm gonna make it up by coming home with a gold medal."

what strengths do you believe you bring to the national team?

"so south korea isn't really known for gymnastics prowess, right? and that's because we're too focused on playing it safe. it makes sense considering how rigid of a sport this is. but i don't do that. i have a power that we've been lacking before, i like to push the boundaries, and i like to be a little bit dramatic. you can't do the same thing and expect different results, y'know?" and she gives a brief wink.

amazing. addressing a sensitive issue now: the rumors on “105fm.” could you shed some light on any concerning rumors you’ve heard about yourself?

leaning back, she rolls her eyes at the mention of the gossip account before crossing her arms, "... i guess. there was some post talking about how i was kicked from the team after drug use and all i could do was just laugh at it. like one, i was not kicked from the team, and that's something you could easily verify; two, drug use? we're drug tested all the time, that doesn't even make sense. i don't need that stuff to be great, thanks."

… and, i’m sure your supporters want to hear your thoughts. 

what was your initial reaction to the anonymous gossip account targeting national teams training in jincheon?

"i mean ... shock of course. but while some things on there have turned out true and, y'know, actions have consequences, a lot of stuff on there too is false and that's unfair. i'd be livid if i through my entire life away to perfect my craft and it came crumbling down because of hearsay. but i feel like people don't care about that because they just want to see drama and that's really ... sad." she shakes her head, "do better."

i see, i see. i’m afraid that’s all the time we have. thank you so much, congratulations, and best of luck to you and your team. to wrap things up, can you give us a quote?

"don't stand in my way."

writer info: adore, 25+, she/her, cst

[hops-hunny]

When He Sees Me

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.3k

Request: N/A

Summary:(Y/n) always thought she was too rational for love, until she wasn’t. (Based off of the song When He Sees Me from Waitress)

Warnings: Slight negative thoughts and angst but vast majority fluff and pining! Oh and positive use of the word fat.

A/N:  Fred is a little OOC in this?? But I honestly just imagine him as the type of guy to be sorta whipped if he really falls for someone.

I stick with real things

Usually facts and figures

When information's in its place

I minimize the guessing game

(Y/n) had always been a rational girl. In her younger years at Hogwarts, as all her friends began to giggle and blush at their crushes, she kept her nose in her books. Although she was curious of what they were experiencing, the thought never lasted long in her mind due to what her mother had told her from a young age.

(Y/n) was about the age of 6, sitting on the floor near the couch as she colored humming to herself softly. She had noticed her mom was in a bad mood due to her being sprawled out on the couch many upon many empty bottles of alcohol littered the table. She wasn’t sure why her mother was so upset but ever since they had seen her father at the park with her babysitter last week her mom had been in this mood and her father hadn’t been back.

“(Y/n) dear, promise me something.” her mother muttered to her half asleep. The girl turned around smiling at her mom. Her mom gave her a weak smile back as she pet the top of the girls head. “Never give your heart to a man. He’ll only leave it in pieces.”

At the time, the girl obviously had no clue what she meant but the older she got and the more she saw the people in her life get their hearts broken time and time again she had developed a clue. So, she simply focused on anything that wasn’t romance. School, plants, knitting, you name it and that’s what she gave her attention to. Even though it wasn’t a conscious action, it still affected her deeply.

I don't like guessing games

Or when I feel things

Before I know the feelings

How am I supposed to operate

If I'm just tossed around by fate?

Like on an unexpected date?

Although her friends described it to her many upon many of times, she still found herself absolutely clueless of what feelings of love was like. That's why when she saw him, she was confused by what was happening.

“Oh he’s simply lovely! He does this funny little things with his hands where-” Although (Y/n) was focused on her coursework, she was still listening to Diane as usual. She liked to listen to her friends retelling of experiences with lovers, soaking it in like a cheesy romance movie. She looked out the window needing a quick break from her work. Her breath hitched quietly as she placed a soft chubby hand over her heart feeling as it raced wildly in the chamber of her chest. Her body had a tingling sensation all over that she had never felt before as she felt herself get dizzy.

“W-who’s that?” she said in an airy tone, causing her friend to follow her gaze. There he stood, laughing and joking around with his friends pushing each other around. His ginger locks blew in the wind slightly and his skin glowed in the soft afternoon sun. 

“You mean you don’t know who that is? That’s Fred weasley! He’s like one of the most popular guys in our year. I can’t believe you just asked that.” She snickered some, teasing her friend. She stopped once she noticed the girl who was usually quick to snap back was unusually quiet. She smiled softly at her expression, noticing that look in her eyes. Whether (Y/n) knew it or not yet, she was absolutely enamoured with none other than Fred Weasley.

“I don’t like him. He makes me feel funny.” she said, however the way she looked out the window still said otherwise.

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know, just funny.”

“Like laugh funny or like funny funny?”

“Obviously not laugh funny, are you an idiot?” She asked, glaring at her blonde friend. She looked out the window once more. She noticed him look back causing her to gasp, eyes wide with shock. He winked at her causing her to scoff, pick her things up before shutting the library blinds and run off to who knows where.

Diane laughed to herself as she began to pack her own stuff up to go after her friend. She sighed before running quickly out the library to catch up.

“Ah, young love!”

-------------------------------------

With a stranger who might talk too fast

Or ask me questions about myself

Before I've decided that

He can ask me questions about myself

He might sit too close

Or call the waiter by his first name

Or eat Oreos

But eat the cookie before the cream?

“For the last time Diane, I’m not talking to him!” she said, slamming her book closed as she tossed it on the table in front of her. Her, Diane and a few of her other friends found themselves in the common room as they usually did on friday nights talking and gossiping about anything that came to mind. Today’s topic of discussion was the girl’s apparent “crush” as they called it. Considering she had nothing to base off of whether that’s what the funny feeling she had mentioned earlier in the week was, she decided to trust her friends in them saying that’s what it was.

“What? Oh come on, give me one good reason why you won’t.” Molly said, facing her friend her sharp green eyes boring into (Y/n)’s (e/c) ones. 

“Oh I can give you a PLETHORA of reasons why not!” the (y/h/h) girl exclaimed as she stood up. She began to pace, trying to rack her brain for good reasons on why not. “Aha! What if he butters both sides of his toast? Or-or what if he asks me too many questions on why I’m talking to him? Or if he’s as popular and well known as you say, what if he takes that as an excuse to ignore personal space boundaries and gets handsy?” 

“He’s a teenage boy, not a serial killer. Someone’s been watching too much muggle crime specials.” Molly said as she rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned back into the couch. (Y/n) glared at her friend, letting out an exasperated sigh as she facepalmed. It wasn’t like she didn’t wanna do anything about these feelings. She most certainly did. Whatever would get rid of them the quickest is the route she wanted to take.

“Well, you could always let him know another way!” Ronnie said as they looked up at their friend. “You’ve got so many skills and talents, why not take advantage of it?” Although Ronnie wasn’t very talkative, whenever they opened their mouth they always said something that made perfect sense.

“As per usual Ronnie, you’re the voice of reason. Merlin bless Ronnie for all of eternity!” (Y/n) exclaimed dramatically as she got on her knees, pretending to worship her friend like a god. 

--------------------------

(Y/n) had been doing just that, making herself known to Fred without making herself known. The (y/h/h) girl had wanted to be anonymous about it, leaving things without her name however Diane pointed out the fact that (Y/n) had “the presence of a ghost” and that “even ghost had more of a presence then her” which meant that even if she did attach her name to the things left Fred would have no idea who it was. Because to be frank (Y/n) was, well, a nobody. 

She noticed this little ‘talent’(if you could even call it that) first year when her teachers would mark her as absent despite her being in the front row of the class and having some of the highest marks. She seemed to fly by unnoticed by all but her small group of friends which they all found funny, especially with Diane being one of the most popular girls in their grade if not all of Hogwarts. 

So, she started off small. She’d leave little notes for him in places she knew he’d find them, usually his first or last class of the day, and his seat in the great hall. She would watch him as he’d read them, flushing sometimes as he read them. However, his usual response was to read them out loud to George, bragging about how a pretty girl was leaving him notes.

“Ah listen to this one, Georgie! ‘Here’s a quidditch tip for you Fred. I noticed that when you’re on your broom you have a habit of going to the right which is why you often get stopped. Try switching it up sometimes! However, that’s not the only thing I’ve noticed. Somehow despite being in that dorky quidditch outfit, you still look just as fit as usual. Yours truly, (Y/n).’” He smirked at that part, a chorus of ‘ooo’s from his friends.

“Although she may be blind to say that, she does know her quidditch! Sounds like a catch if you ask me. I’m surprised she didn’t go for me, the better twin.” George said, choking on his toast as Fred smacked him on the back of the head.

Diane nudged her friend, glancing at her. She laughed as she saw her friend’s round face buried in a book to hide the overwhelming amount of shyness that was overcoming her. Even though this had become a regular thing, she still couldn’t stop the way her heart would race every time Fred would read one of the letters aloud. 

To avoid the notes becoming repetitive, she started to switch it up every once in a while. Baked goods, hand knitted scarfs and gloves, even flowers with meanings behind them made their way into Fred’s ownership. However, the more things he got the more not only him but other people became curious. Who was (Y/n) (L/n)?

But what scares me the most

What scares me the most

Is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it?

What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?

What happens then?

If when he knows me, he's only disappointed?

What if I give myself away, to only get it given back?

I couldn't live with that

Molly was currently trying to catch up to her soft friend, a sympathetic look on her face. “Why not? I think you should just go up to him and tell him! So many other girls have tried, claiming to be you.” she said, catching the other girl’s attention. She bumped into her as the (h/c) girl abruptly stopped. She turned to look at her friend with tears in her eyes causing her to look down at her agape.

“Do you wanna know why I haven’t just gone up to him yet? Do you really?” She said above a whisper as she looked up at her tall friend, silent tears making their way down her cheeks. “It scares me. It scares me even fucking more than what I feel for him does. Fred is just so..he’s funny, talented, popular. Who wouldn’t want him?” she choked out, looking away. “What if when he sees me, he doesn’t like me? Whenever he reads my notes or gets one of my gifts he always mentions how beautiful (Y/n) must be.”

“(Y/n)...”

“Let me finish Molly. When he says that, he probably means some tall leggy blonde like Diane. I’m just me.” she lets out a dry chuckle, sniffing as she wipes at the tears streaming. “Sure, I find me beautiful, you guys find me beautiful, but the world doesn’t. I don’t look like anyone he’s ever been with before. Fred is always surrounded by tons of gorgeous women. If he saw me, he’d only be disappointed. If I gave myself to him and he rejected me, I couldn’t live with that. Now I see what my mom was talking about.” she said as she walked off leaving Molly confused by the last part of her statement. She frowned hearing her friend’s words but she knew her better than to chase after her when she was upset. She turned the other way, walking quickly in hopes she’d make it to her lecture not too late. However, a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye didn’t go unnoticed but it did slip her mind when she saw her friend later.

So, I'm just fine, inside my shell-shaped mind

This way I get the best view

So that when he sees me, I want him to

(Y/n) sat in the library at a table by herself. It was a friday, usually she’d spend this time with her friends in the commons. However, after the never ending pestering to just talk to him, to face him she told them she wasn’t feeling well and that she’d be retiring early. It wasn’t a lie, she had completely planned on getting some much needed rest but as she lay in bed tossing and turning her restlessness turned into frustration leading her to read a bit to clear her mind. Reading was what she enjoyed doing when she wanted to clear her mind or simply escape the insufferable reality she was living in. But after she found herself reading the first line to chapter three 10 times she placed her bookmark between her pages, looking out the window.

It was if the universe was taunting her from the sight in front of her. There he stood, talking to another girl from their year. She couldn’t recall the girls name but it wasn’t that important, she was beautiful. She sighed as Fred laughed at something the girl said, patting her head before walking away. ‘It’s better this way. He can’t see you which means he can’t reject you which means you won’t get hurt’ is what she kept telling herself. However if that was the truth, then why did she feel so empty inside?

-----------------------

(Y/n) laughed along with her friends as they sat in the empty common room. Everyone from their house was Merlin knows where at this time as they all shared their intimate horror stories.

“Oh come on, that did NOT happen.” she said through laughs, eating another chocolate from the box on the table. Her cheeks hurt from the amount she had been laughing. Diane was in the midst of telling what happened during her recent sexual endeavor with some guy from her herbology class.

“I swear he did! His face was green and everything! Next thing I know he was blowing chunks off the side of the bed. I offered to take him to the infirmary but he didn’t hear me through his tears so I just made my exit as swift as possible!” she said laughing as well, face red from how much she had laughed through the telling of the story. They all continued to howl with laughter, someone else’s laughing triggering someone else to laugh even more. (Y/n) was the laugh one left laughing as her friends all began to grow quiet. 

“G-guys? Why’d you stop? Who’s next?” she said, looking at Molly who was on her left and Ronnie who was on her right. 

“Um, don’t look how (Y/n) but Fred Weasley is coming this way.” Diane said, causing the girl to stop breathing briefly.

“W-what?!” she whispered loudly, eyes growing wide.

“Yeah and um don’t freak out, but he’s looking directly at you. No pressure though!” Molly said, giving her a rough pat on her back as she offered the girl a smile. The (h/c) haired girl glared up at her. As Fred grew closer, their voices grew quieter.

“Why wouldn’t that make me nervous?!” she said through gritted teeth as she pulled on Molly’s curls causing the girl to let out a quick ‘ow!’. She chuckled nervously. “Well, we have nothing to worry about! It’s not like he knows who I am!” she said as she relaxed some, closing her eyes as she leaned back. She heard footsteps stop in front of her causing her eyes to shoot open as she looked at the ground. Huh. Those shoes didn’t look like Ronnie’s shoes. Matter of fact, they didn’t look like Diane’s either. Or Mo- oh no. She looked up, arms folded across her abdomen self consciously as she looked up at the man in front of her. She couldn’t help but take in his appearance.

He was in a white shirt, some spots see through from what she assumed was a mix of sweat and water. His flaming hair was mostly dry but damp in some spots and he adorned a pair of sweatpants that made him look quite godly in her opinion. If she had to guess, he had just gotten back from quidditch practice. It was weird for her to be this close to him intentionally. The only time she found herself close to Fred was when they’d walk past each other in the hall or when their classes would go by each other due to a required location change for the lesson. Therefore she had never been able to see the freckles on his knuckles, the barely noticeable acne scars that adorned his forehead, or even the way his Irish spring’s shower gel smelled oh so heavenly.

“I’ve been all around the castle for weeks, months even. I think the main reason it took me so long was not only the fact that I haven’t really seen you up close before, but all the other birds claiming to be you. It was like that one muggle film, what’s it called? Cinderfeller?” he pondered for a moment looking off.

“I-it’s Cinderella.” Ronnie chimed in, giving him an awkward smile. They were all quite stunned. Although they all knew that this wild goose chase couldn’t go on forever, they didn’t expect it to be Fred of all people to approach first. They were sure (Y/n) would reveal herself on her own time but it seemed that they weren’t the only one’s getting impatient with the girl’s excuses and whys.

“Right, thank you. So I set off, making a list of every girl in our year in the castle- with the help of George and Dean of course- and we spoke to quite literally all of them. It was easy to weed out the fakes because they couldn’t answer questions related to some of the gifts I had received. So by the process of elimination that leaves you, love. Are you (Y/n)?” He said, crouching down to her level. As hues of brown met hues of (e/c) it was much too intimate for the girl to handle. She sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“W-well I am a (Y/n). I’m sure there’s plenty of others in the castle!” she retorted letting out a forced laugh, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. Was the common room always this warm? 

“If I recall correctly, weren’t you bragging the other day about being the only (Y/n) in the castle? You said and I quot-” a quick stomp of (Y/n)’s foot on Diane’s caused the blonde to quickly stop whatever she was in the middle of saying. Fred looked down at the (h/c) hair girl with a quirked brow and knowing smirk. She was caught red handed. Without another word, he quickly pulled her off the couch with ease, dragging her along with him. She tried protesting and looking at her friends for help but they all simply waved and smiled at her, making kissy faces and noises. ‘Idiots’ she thought as she rolled her eyes. Fred continued to guide her, the path to where they were going looking awfully familiar until they arrived at the astronomy tour.

“Listen Fred, I just wanna say I’m sorry. I know you were probably expecting (Y/n) to be someone who looks like Diane, or hell, even Molly’s dumbass but I’m not. I’m just me.” She began as she walked to the edge, looking off the balcony. “I know now that you’ve seen me you’re probably disappointed. I’ve seen the girls you hang around all the time and they’re bloody gorgeous and-”

“So are you.” he whispered, causing her to whip her head around quickly.

“Pardon?” she responded with glassy eyes. The girl wasn’t too sure why her eyes began to water from three simple words. They weren’t the usual three words that cause or evoke such an emotional response but they felt like the missing piece of a puzzle. Her eyes followed the lanky guy as he walked over to her, tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear as he interlocked their hands. Long, skinny and defined calloused hands meeting her soft thicker but smaller ones.

“So. Are. You. Beauty is such a fluid thing. There’s no one way to be beautiful, lovely. Museums have many unique and beautiful forms of art and so does life.” He let his hands wander on her sides, gliding up and down her love handles, waist, and hips. He took one of his hands to tilt her head up oh so gently. “If you were a sculpture, you’d be made of the finest of marble by the most talented of sculptors. Hell, if I wasn’t so bloody bad with art I’d sculpt you myself but I don’t think I’d be doing you much justice. It’d be a monstrosity.” he said, shuddering at the idea of him doing anything art related. (Y/n) found herself giggling at that.

“If only you applied this verbiage to your coursework. Perhaps you’d actually be doing decent.” she remarked as she continued to laugh. Fred gasped a bit before joining in as well with his own laughter. As the laughter died down, he lifted a hand caressing her cheek, thumb sweeping across the smooth skin. She found his eyes to see they were filled with adoration. “Fred Weasley, are you whipped for me?” she spoke softly as if she had said it any louder, that he’d simply disappear.

“I have been since the first time I saw you.” He responded, his own cheeks flushing a bit with a light crimson. She looked at him puzzled a bit before her eyes widened slightly.

“You remember that? That was months ago!” she noted. He grinned at that, pulling her closer.

“Of course I do. Imagine my delight when I found out that beautiful girl who slammed the blinds shut on me happened to be the girl my heart was slowly going out to with every note and kind gesture you sent my way. Merlin is definitely on my side.  Although I must be honest,” he looked away for a bit before lookin back at her. “The list was a huge help, but I also couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the hallway that day. However I knew then wasn’t the right time to approach you, I assumed you would’ve just been more upset over the fact I was eavesdropping a bit.” he mumbled. She opened her mouth to question what conversation before she recalled what she had said to Molly that day in the hallway.

“Let me finish Molly. When he says that, he probably means some tall leggy blonde like Diane. I’m just me.” she lets out a dry chuckle, sniffing as she wipes at the tears streaming. “Sure, I find me beautiful, you guys find me beautiful, but the world doesn’t. I don’t look like anyone he’s ever been with before. Fred is always surrounded by tons of gorgeous women. If he saw me, he’d only be disappointed. If I gave myself to him and he rejected me, I couldn’t live with myself. Now I see what my mom was talking about.”

“Hearing you speak so lowly about yourself upset me quite a bit. I wanted to plan out what I was going to say a bit more and also make sure it was actually you.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear me say those things about myself. I usually don’t say such things like that, I’m very confident in the way I look. To me, fat and ugly aren’t synonymous but I know everyone isn’t so open minded.” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I’m also new to this whole feelings thing. You’re the first guy I’ve ever had feelings for.”

Now, it was Fred’s turn to become speechless. He couldn’t believe his ears, he had the honor, no, the privilege of being the first guy to be such a sublime goddess of a woman? He felt his ears heat up and he knew he had to look absolutely ridiculous. “I don’t blame you, I am one hell of a guy!” He said, flexing his arms as he flashed her a cheeky grin. (Y/n) scoffed some, shoving him away as she rolled her eyes playfully. She pondered for a second before standing on her tippy toes planting a kiss on his cheek...or at least that’s what she had planned. Fred being Fred turned his head last moment wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed his lips into hers. She gasped softly, chills running up her spine again as her body tensed.

Even this was her first time having a kiss, she could tell this was a feeling she’d be craving nonstop. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling Fred down to her height. The ginger boy smirked into the kiss, trailing his hands all along her soft frame practically melting at the feeling. His hands snaked their way down to her ass, cupping the pillowy flesh between his large hands causing the (y/h/h) to moan softly. The Gryffindor pulled away, biting and pulling her bottom lip along with him.

“So, I have a question for you then…”He started, pressing his forehead against hers. She felt the warmth of his minty breathe hit her face as she looked into his eyes expectantly. “Do I really have a tendency to go to the right when I play quidditch? Because in my opinio-”

“Fred! Really?!”

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.1

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 3700

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly. 

This is not a beginning of a steamy story; given the reason you’re hanging out in the dark, even a make-out session is honestly the last thing you want to fantasize about right now.

But that doesn’t mean that the nice stranger cannot make your day much better. 

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, attempt at humour, language

You were on the verge of screaming – or crying, you honestly weren't sure anymore. But you knew you were done. You had worked your fingers to a bone just to get here; to become a little bee in the most famous hive in Manhattan. Stark Industries. The Stark/Avengers Tower. The beacon of the New York skyline. The dream coming true.

Yeah, not so much.

You hadn't expected super-important assignments – after all, you were just an assistant to the head of one of too many departments – but God, you had not expected to be handling coffee so often. To be running ridiculous errands. Your degree from MIT should actually mean something here! If nothing else than that you were not just some pretty face and that you fucking didn’t deserve the treatment you were receiving.

And that was the root of trouble, really. You could handle making your way up, it would be tiring but not surprising, it was pretty much what you had assigned for.

But you had not assigned for the sexist comments, disgusting innuendo and for the grabby hands of your sleazy boss. Thomas Gregory was a fucking nightmare of a man and you swore that you were quitting if he called you a ‘Dollface’ or slapped your ass one more time.

And that was how you had got here, into this very moment; hiding in a dark supply closet like a creep with two cups of overpriced coffee in a cup holder and a piece of organic carob-nut muffin.

You weren't about to come out any time soon, because you simply knew your boss still would be a pig and give you yet another reason to hand in your notice and you had fucking wanted this job for so long, worked for it so hard and sacrificed too much that you just couldn't make yourself to quit no matter how much your skin cringed and your stomach rolled over every time Thomas Gregory touched you. It was so frustrating you wanted to scream.

Or cry, you still couldn't solve the dilemma. Maybe both.

You barely registered the hurried footsteps – and then the door was yanked open, you glimpsed a tall blond male figure and suddenly there was dark again. Except there was one more body in the very limited room of the closet, making you press your back onto the shelf.

Something rattled with your movement and the newcomer hissed a barely audible ‘Be quiet’ as two columns of muscles that were probably his arms framed your head leaning onto the very same shelf, so you could both fit in here.

The little order leaving his lips broke the last seal inside you. You were tired, frustrated and were receiving enough humiliation as it was, you did not need some random guy invading your hideout, barking orders.

“Look, mister, if you have any problem with me trying to make a little space for you in this tiny-ass closet, I recommend you to-”  

“Shh!” he hushed you and you thought you had never heard someone whisper so urgently; at least it sounded less bossy than before. It did not mollify you though, because this guy actually had enough impudence to-

“Don't you dare to shush me-!”

A hand went to cover your mouth and you let out an exasperated mumble of curses, while his voice continued.

“Please, just— I'm sorry, please, don't make a sound, my friend is trying to set me up and-”

Your eyes went wide and he suddenly fell silent. Before you could question his methods of shutting you up, his exclaim or the pause, and ask him to be so kind to find another closet, another male voice sounded somewhere behind the door.

“Come on, Steeeve. Man, don't be such a prude. Lillian is a great chic, okay?”

The man – the friend, you assumed – seemed annoyed and you couldn't believe that Steve had not been kidding you. He was actually hiding for the very reason he had offered you. You nodded as you heard the stranger behind the door move and the hand covering your mouth hesitantly disappeared.

“It's just a lip piercing, don't be such a tight-ass. It can actually be quite fun, you wouldn't believe what a girl can do with such thing…”

“Gross,” you commented soundlessly and you could feel your companion’s eyes burning a hole into your head in silent agreement.

“Goddammit, Steve!”

The voice and the footsteps slowly disappeared in the distance and you… you were face to face with a stranger named Steve in a limited space of a dark supply closet, his breath tickling your scalp, his cologne very much assaulting your nose; at least it was a pleasant assault.

“I'm sorry for being so rude. And thank you,” his voice caressed your hairline gently and hearing his suddenly polite tone and evaluating this whole situation, you could barely hold back a giggle all of sudden.

“You're welcome, Steve. How long has this been going on?”

“Two days-” That didn't sound too bad, he could probably take a lot more- “-at this level. With Lillian. It was Emily before that and Angelina before that. In smaller scale, it's been happening for about four months,” he recited dutifully as if he was reporting a status to his boss and this time you couldn’t help it – you giggled.

When you could feel the wounded gaze he gave you, you obediently made a sympathetic noise.

“Aww, poor you, your friend supplying you with no doubt great relationship material…”

“That’s what he said! But I don't want a relationship material. I don't want any material, not even his… one-night stand material. What does that mean anyway? These are women he's talking about, not a material-”

You let out a tiny pleased sound at his exasperation, which shut him up. You wondered if it was your turn to speak – it was hard to tell, supply-closet conversations weren't exactly your area of expertise.

“Kudos for that thinking,” you noted after short silence and the darker shadow of his figure tilted his head. “Did you try to tell him that you weren't interested…? Of course you did, why am I asking, that was a stupid question…”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, I got a little… carried away. It just… it's like talking to a brick wall.”

You hummed in sympathy again and the room fell into silence once more.

It was ridiculous how much your mind started working over hundred percent, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. The best you could do was:

“Hey, you want a cup of overpriced organic coffee? I happen to have two.”

The needy noise that let his lips was downright pornographic. Or maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, the strange environment finally getting to you.

“I knew I smelled coffee here! I thought I went completely insane.”

You couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, you knew the feeling all too well.

“Nope, your senses were not playing tricks on you. Help yourself. It should be around your left hand.” A rustling of a paper bag. “Oh. That's a carob-nut muffin – with carob instead of cocoa. You can have that too, I won't need that.”

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why are you hiding in a supply closet, with a muffin and two cups of expensive coffee nonetheless? And may I hand you one?”

“Such a gentleman. Thanks,” you murmured and accepted the cup. You weren't lying about not needing it – you wouldn't. Because you were about to quit; it was inevitable.

You sipped the warm liquid, its taste as bitter as the reason behind your actions.

“So?”

“I'm hiding from my boss.”

Your voice must have sounded terrible, because his own softened at the confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because if I bring him his coffee and muffin, he'll probably call me his good girl and— and slap my butt and-”

“I beg your pardon?” he growled, like honest to God growled, the strange sound warming your scalp.

And it was the righteous outrage in the sound he let out, the reaction that you needed, someone agreeing with you – a stranger, who wouldn’t feel obliged to do so just it was a duty of being a good friend to you – that made the levee break. Suddenly tears were streaming down your face, anger and humiliation, and your breath was hitching in embarrassing hiccups and the dark space felt so anonymous and safe at the same time that you didn't even care anymore.

“And if he does that I’ll have to– to quit, because I-I'm so fucking fed up with his dis-disgusting hands and si-sickening voice voicing his lizard thoughts a-and I ca-can't quit goddammit, I worked so fucking hard to-to get a job h-here and-”

You didn't realise your hands started trembling until the cup disappeared from them, placed back on the shelf, and a pair of much bigger and warmer hands gently enveloped yours, his body shifting just a little closer as he lost the support that had been keeping some distance between you.

“Hey, hey, shh, it's gonna be okay…” his voice washed over you soothingly, sounding almost at your ear.

Still, there was space between your bodies, a respectable distance – as respectable as possible in the limited space. It was as if he acknowledged it could make you uncomfortable – which probably wasn't exactly hard to figure out, given what you just told him.

“I'm sorry,” you sobbed and cleared your throat afterwards in attempt to compose yourself. “I didn't mean to load that on you, my problems are none of your concern-”

“Like hell they aren't. Sexual harassment on a workplace is everyone's concern, or it should be,” he grunted. His hands tightened their grip, not uncomfortably – reassuring. “This okay?”

You smiled through your tears. This Steve guy was really sweet to you. You almost forgot what it was like to be treated with respect.

“Y-yeah. Thank you for-- for asking. That was really nice.”

He huffed. “It should be a normal human decency. And I did grab you before that, sorry.”

“Something tells me you would let go if I said no more vehemently.”

“Of course I would.”

You gave him a watery smile he couldn't see and tried to calm your breathing completely. His thumb caressing your wrist helped. You wondered which department he was from; if his skills in comforting came with a job description or if he was a natural.

“Have you… have you tried to fill in a report?” he asked hesitantly, making your heart stop.

Oh yeah, you had. It had ended up in a shredder machine, because Thomas had spotted it. He had made you do it yourself, standing over you and watching, claiming the complaint had been baseless and it would pointless to hand it anyway, because he would explain the HR how it truly was. That you had made a move and he, the good father and husband he had been, politely turned you down, which turned you vengeful.

You whispered the story to Steve, your voice trembling, more tears escaping and you could immediately tell he believed you – because his grip grew steely strong, his teeth grinding.

“This is wrong. You should have never been forced to work for a man like him– objectifying you, touching you, threatening you, that's just--- you should talk to Tony,” he blurted out in the end and you frowned.

“Who's Tony?”

You had checked the whole HR department via their website when doing your research. You couldn't recall any Tony.

There was a short pause, broken by Steve's confused voice. “Stark.”

You blinked, wondering if Steve was joking. He didn't sound like he was joking, which was strange, because so far, he had seemed to be a smart and reasonable man.

“There's no way I'm scoring a meeting with Mr. Stark. And it's not like he’s dealing with things like that.”

“...Talk to Pepper then. I doubt she has bigger than zero tolerance for harassment,” he exclaimed confidently as if talking to Pepper Potts (this time you assumed whom he was talking about – did he call all of the big bosses their first name…?) was an option for a regular human being like you. Realizing that all over again though, that was tough.

“While I believe that’s her policy, it's not like I can just walk into her office.”

Steve seemed to consider that, while his thumb was still drawing patterns on your skin, almost subconsciously.

“I think you could. But if you're worried it might take a while and you’re scared to go back to your office now, let me walk you. I can explain him that every employee deserves to be treated with respect,” he offered finally, deadly serious, yet still sounding kind.

Your heart swelled. A guy you just met (in a supply closet, a good story to be narrated at parties, you supposed), suggested to help you out, no hesitation. God, wasn't he just too pure for this world?

“I… thank you, Steve. But… while you do have an impressive frame, I think it would only get worse. I think I'll just enjoy this extremely hipster coffee, which I'll later have to pay for no doubt and… and go face my boss to hand him my resignation. There are plenty jobs, right? I can as well serve coffee in a café,” you said with a sad smile, letting your hands slip from his comfortable hold.

“That's not right. Especially if you worked hard to– not to mention it's a matter of principle. You run away once and… running is a very hard habit to break,” he whispered, as if a secret, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip when the truth of his words washed over you, along with the way he spoke; with such a strong believe in principles that should stand a standard. It… he made you forgot your own trouble for a second as you let yourself get lost in him. In the way he treated you, the protector's persona, yet not forced. He had suggested you to ‘let him come with you’, not even a note of command in his approach. This was not a man seeing an opportunity to be a hero when spotting the damsel in distress; this was a man who believed in what was right and wanted to fix things that were apparently broken. You wished there were more men like him, selfishly wanting one of them to be your boss.

“And men like these – they need to be put in line,” he added darkly, snapping you from your daydreaming of a better world. “Let me come with you. I'll—I’ll help you fill in the forms, walk you to HR. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

For all the comfort the dark had offered you so far, you wished for a little bit more light now, enough to see his face, his eyes. You knew they would be burning with honesty, you were sure of it, maybe a little rage aimed at a man who dared to treat another human being the way he did.

The offer was so tempting. But just imagining the security escorting Steve from the building for wanting to help you was enough to put out the fiery need to accept. It was ridiculous to care so much about his well-being after what could be minutes of knowing him, but no one could call you out on it. And if they did, you could always play it cool with ‘matter of principles’; good people only deserved good things.

You carefully reached out, hoping to find his hand again. Your heart skipped a beat when you brushed his thigh instead, but at least his hand was right next to it. He released a surprised breath when you took it into yours, way smaller one. You bit your lip when leaning in a little, blindly trying to meet his gaze.

“You’re a good man, Steve. I’m sorry your friend is giving you a hard time, you don't deserve that – even though I'm sure he means well. If you ever want to get him off your back...” you wavered at the ridiculous idea, but hey, why the hell not, he had offered to help you out first, “you can say you're seeing someone. Give him my card. I'll confirm we're together – he seems like a kind of a guy who would check.”

Shocked breathless laugh erupted from his chest and you assumed you hit the nail on the head. You fished out one of your business cards, handing it to him and releasing his hand then.

It was time to leave and face your fate, but Steve didn't make any attempt at moving out of the closet.

In fact, he seemed to examine the card for a while and then he quietly read out your name. You gasped in surprise. How the hell could he see anything? You could barely make out his silhouette!

“How-”

“I'm used to working in dark spaces,” he muttered absently. “Would you really do that?”

Slightly taken aback he was considering your offer, you nodded, only to realize he couldn't see it--- actually, he probably could.

“I would. Hell, I think I could handle one uncomfortable dinner with your friend vetting me,” you added, slightly amused at the idea. When you could hear his shocked exhale and wanted to take it back. “I didn't mean to-”

“Let me come with you to your office,” he repeated like a broken record and you frowned at the sudden change of topic.

“What-”

“It could throw your boss off your back for long enough for you to deal with the complaint. If you would be comfortable enough to play my girlfriend for a dinner time, why not now?”

Your eyes went wide and you almost choked on air.

“I-what? I told you it would probably only make it worse-”

“It will work.”

“How can you be so-”

The door yanked open and your eyes were hit by an unpleasantly sharp light, making you squint.

“Holy-” a ridiculously familiar voice you couldn’t place breathed out. “Wilson! I found him! You’ve gotta see this!”

You wanted to see the owner of the voice, but your view was completely blocked by the broad chest of your companion.

So you at least raised your head to meet Steve face to face so to speak. You couldn’t see much, your eyes still adjusting; with the light shining from behind him, playing a mysterious game with his blond locks, framing his impressive figure, he looked like a freaking angel, beautiful and righteous, bringing justice, yet wrapped in an aura of peace and serenity. You barely kept your jaw from falling on the floor.

You kept staring, focusing on his face, and slowly started realizing that his features too, were familiar. Mortification was creeping up your back as the puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating a horrifying picture, making you wish for the Earth to swallow you.

The voice from behind Steve’s back resolved the last doubts you had about your temporary mysterious roommate.

“Wouldn’t peg you as a get-freaky-in-a-closet kind of guy, Capsicle.”

You wanted to immediately protest that you had definitely not been getting freaky in the closet, but your brain was still frozen because of the big revelation – that you had just been comforted, hell, that you had just offered to be a fake date to Captain America.

You simply stared at him, unbeing able to hold your jaw from falling anymore. Because– because-- oh god.

Now it made perfect sense that he thought Thomas Gregory would be intimidated… by the idea of harassing Captain America’s girlfriend. You couldn’t really blame Steve for being sure it would work. Also, it kinda explained why he called Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts their first names – they were on the first name basis.

Which really was the least relevant thing right now.

A bashful smile appeared on Steve’s lips, a little guilty perhaps, and you just… giggled at the absurdity. You couldn’t help it. You had just spent minutes in a supply closet with Steve Rogers without having a single clue about it and while you didn’t do anything heated as someone would assume, it was one of the most amazing minutes of your life.

You must have looked like an idiot or something, because he chuckled too, completely ignoring another male voice growing in volume as the newcomer approached.

“Holy hell, man! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”

At those words, Steve tentatively took your hand with an encouraging smile and led you out to the hall. You were met with two pairs of curious eyes examining you from head to toe. You lowered your gaze, now fully aware of the fact they belonged to Tony Stark – the Iron Man – and Samuel Wilson – the Falcon.

Well. Now the ‘party story’ finally got the right juice.

“Then don’t, Sam, because it’s not what it looks like,” Steve replied to his match-maker friend and took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tighter. “Tony, this woman would like to report harassment on her workplace.”

Your head snapped to Steve’s face with panicked gaze. What the hell was he doing?!

Tony Stark made a noise of disapproval.

“Couldn’t you try harder so she wouldn’t complain about you?”

“Tony,” Steve addressed him, his voice solemn just like his expression, which clearly surprised the billionaire. “I’m serious. It’s not about me. Her boss is the reason why she was hiding here.”

Without commenting any further, Steve handed him your business card and Mr. Stark hummed. You weren’t brave enough to look up. Was he going to wave it off? Was he going to fire you?

He said your name, making you gulp in fright. You had to look up now and you really didn’t wanna, too afraid of what you’d see. You were shocked to meet with a searching gaze, but not a mean one.

“It is true? Is your boss giving you trouble? Making sexist comments? Worse?”

You felt tears in your eyes, utterly taken aback by his sensitive tone, the inviting light in his eyes. It was too much to bear and you wanted to escape the kind gaze; and he wouldn’t let you. You only managed to nod when you felt Steve’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

Mr. Stark sighed, adding a dark ‘goddammit’, and returned Steve the business card.

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

Part 2

I know, I know, Steve is a little bit of Knight-In-Shining-Armour here, but it made sense to me O:-)

Happy weekend!

Thank you for reading!

[t0wnspersonb]

Kiss it Better (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hello I just read your fics about Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto and I really liked them 💞 So I was wondering if you could write a fluff fic where tsukki gets embarassed trying to make the first move you can also just add things to your liking If you don‘t want to that‘s totally okay I‘ll be waiting for your upcoming fics thank youuuu 🧡

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Omg that’s so funny because my next story was literally going to be just that! I had a lot of fun writing this one and might do a part two with some *cough* smut *cough* just like Kuroo, everyone is lowkey a Tsukishima girl. I hope you like this anon! 

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Word Count: 2,293

Summary: Tsukishima has always liked you, but you’ve never noticed his advances. A trip to the nurses office might change your mind. 

~~~~~~~~

You liked to think that you were friends with the tall blonde sitting behind you in class. 

 But sometimes…

 Thunk. 

 Sometimes…

 Thunk.

 Sometimes you really wanted to fucking strangle him.

 Thunk. 

 “Can you stop kicking my chair!?” you hissed, staring at the smirking middle blocker.

 “My foot slipped.” he replied coyly, causing your scowl to deepen. 

 Before you could retort back to him the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You started packing up your stuff, grumbling to yourself about how rude Tsukishima was.

 “Don’t you want to walk to the clubs together?” He called out to your leaving form. 

 You huffed turning around to see him and Yamaguchi looking at you.

 There were times when Tsukishima didn’t annoy you, and those were the times you would walk with them to your after school club activities. 

 You were part of the photography club, which was on the way to the gymnasium that held their volleyball practice. 

 But again, you only walked with them when Tsukishima wasn’t being an annoying little prick.

 Today definitely wasn’t one of those days. He had been bugging you all day. It went from his annoying comments to him poking at you harshly, and then to kicking your chair.

 You weren’t sure if it was because he was bored and had nothing better to do, or if it was because he actually didn’t think of you as a friend. Or because he was just simply an asshole.

 Maybe it was a combination of all three, you didn’t know.

 “No way.” you sniffed, sticking out your tongue to him. “I don’t want to walk with you anywhere today. If it was just Yama-kun then I would. But not if you’re there. Stupid.”

Tsukishima visibly looked annoyed at your statement. 

 “Y/n-chan.” Yamaguchi called out, raising his hands up as he looked at both annoyed expressions. “You guys should try and get along yeah?”

 “Be quiet Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima sighed, moving to walk past you. “If she wants to be childish then just let her. I’m surprised she even got into this class.”

 “I’m surprised Yama-kun is even your friend.” you fired back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I bet you aren’t even good at volleyball.”

 Tsukishima paused, and then before you could even register what had happened, he was leaning down, incredibly close to your face and to your body. You could physically feel his body heat radiating into your own. His hand resting on the doorframe, preventing you from leaving the room.

 “Why don’t you come by and find out?” he said slowly, ignoring the panicked squeak that escaped Yamaguchi’s lips. His gold eyes were piercing into your own, but you couldn’t see any anger in them at what you had said, you couldn’t see an ounce of annoyance either. But there was something else there, something you couldn’t place.

 Ignoring your hammering heart and the heat creeping up into your face, you shoved his arm away scowling. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll take pictures of you sucking and have an article published in the school newspaper about you being a terrible person and sucking at volleyball!” you huffed stalking away from the tall first year angrily.

 You ignored the calls of Yamaguchi and just focused on heading towards your club.

 Today was definitely one of those days where you wanted nothing to do with Tsukishima.

 The relationship you had with the middle blocker was incredibly strange. One minute you guys were perfectly fine with each other, and next - well it was exactly what had just happened.

 Tsukishima scoffed as he watched your retreating figure. But he couldn’t deny the fact that your reactions were incredibly lame, but incredibly cute.

 “You shouldn’t tease her like that Tsukki.” Yamaguchi sighed. “She’s never going to like you back if you keep making her mad like that.”

 Tsukishima didn’t say anything as they continued their way to the gym. 

 Everyone knew that he liked you. It was incredibly obvious, and Tsukishima always made sure to make it incredibly obvious.

But it wasn't obvious to you.

 The one person that it mattered to the most.

 You were frustrating and amusing, stubborn and incredibly smart, quick-witted and incredibly beautiful.

 The entire package.

 And Tsukishima wanted you to be his.

 But you were too fucking dense to realize that.

 And quite frankly, he was getting sick of it. For as smart as you were, you were incredibly thick when it came to stuff like that it appeared.

 It frustrated him to no end.

 Usually what he depicted as playful flirting you thought as him just being downright mean.

 It was a constant cycle, neverending. 

 It was ridiculous.

 Actually scratch that. 

 This was ridiculous.

 It had been a couple of days since that last encounter, Tsukishima deciding his chances at winning you over would probably be better if he stopped his teasing for a little bit.

 But right now you were nodding your head rapidly in understanding as Hinata talked to you. You were there during one of their practices, to take photos of them. A project that you had to do for your photography club. Takeda-sensei had given you permission to be there to snap pictures of the team.

 “- And then I go boom!” Hinata exclaimed bouncing around.

 You smiled at his antics. “That sounds incredible Hinata! Do you think I can take a picture of you doing your crazy jump?” you asked, holding up the camera for emphasis.

 But before he could utter an answer, Tsukishima interrupted. “We have to start practice, you can just take pictures then.” he said to you, glancing at you briefly. 

You rolled your eyes at his aloofness and apologized to Hinata who was protesting loudly at what Tsukishima had said. “He’s right Hinata, I don’t want to impede on your guys’ practice so just pretend like I’m not here and I’ll take as many pictures as possible.”

 Reluctantly he agreed and everyone continued the practices Ukai had asked them to do before splitting up into different teams. They were doing a match.

 You were honestly in awe as you watched them play. You didn’t think that volleyball could be so… amazing. You had teased both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima about how boring the sport was.

 You were so wrong.

 You had almost forgotten to take pictures, you were so captivated.

 But what had surprised you the most, was Tsukishima. You had never seen him so… concentrated? So serious? So… so attractive?

 You felt your face flush, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. That was ridiculous. You had never been attracted to the middle blocker, you found him annoying, a completely arrogant, unnecessarily tall asshole, and… and he was incredibly good looking.

 What was wrong with you? How could you even think of something like that? How could you - “Watch out!” your eyes went wide as a volleyball came hurtling at you with rapid speed.

 Your eyes squeezed shut, readying yourself for the impact.

 Only it never came. You heard a loud grunt and opened your eyes to see Tsukishima clenching at his fingers, the ball rolling away from his feet.

 He… he protected you from the ball. 

 Tsukishima’s pointer finger throbbed in pain, he knew it wasn’t broken, but the nail had torn just a bit, blood seeping out of his wound.

 He wasn’t sure what possessed him to move, he knew that Nishinoya was closer to you, he knew that he was heading towards the ball to stop it from hitting you. But his body just moved after he called out his warning.

 “Oi Tsukishima are you okay?” Tanaka asked running up to him, several of his teammates surrounding him.

 He removed his hand to reveal his bloody nail, causing you to gasp lightly.

“I need to stop the bleeding. I’ll go to the nurse.” Tsukishima said quietly.

 “Let me help you.” You blurted out immediately, causing all eyes to be on you now. “It’s my fault you got injured.”

 The tall blonde nodded, and both of you left the gym quietly.

 “He’s got it bad huh?” Tanaka smirked, staring after you guys.

 “I hope he can confess properly.” Yamaguchi sighed.

 ***

 The walk to the infirmary was incredibly quiet, awkward almost. But it was just your luck that the nurse was nowhere to be found.

 “You can go. I can take care of it from here.” Tsukishima said quietly.

 You shook your head. “No. You got hurt because of me. At least let me help.” You started to take out the necessary equipment to help disinfect and wrap his finger. “Go ahead and sit down.” you said gesturing to the bed.

 Tsukishima didn’t bother arguing, silently sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely.

 Even sitting down, he was still incredibly tall. The top of his head just below your chin. You held your hand out his expectantly, he sighed quietly before placing his much larger hand in yours.

 Carefully you cleaned up the blood and began wiping down the wound with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. The smell stingy your nose, but the atmosphere around the both of you was quiet, calm almost.

 His hand dwarfed your own, his fingers long and elegant, and surprisingly soft against your own touch.

 Tsukishima couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying this immensely. You stood incredibly close to him, slightly between his parted legs as you worked. He could smell the soft perfume on your skin and the laundry detergent you used on your clothes.

 It was a wonderful smell.

 Maybe… maybe now would be a good time to tell you… right?

 “I’m sorry Tsukishima.” you said quietly, wrapping his finger. “If I wasn’t there you wouldn’t be in this position.”

 “It’s fine. It’s nothing serious.” he said, equally quiet.

 “Does it hurt?” you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly as you stared into his gold eyes.

 Tsukishima could feel the blush rising in his face, you were just too cute. The way you looked concerned about him. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

 “It might hurt less if you kiss it better.” he said. He couldn’t resist, this situation was incredibly ideal to him.

 You looked incredibly confused for a moment before taking his hand and gently pressing your lips against the tip of his injured finger.

 Tsukishima felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, his face burning at the sweet gesture. And even though his finger was wrapped up, he just knew that your lips were incredibly soft. His other hand came up to press against his face, the backside of his hand covering the lower part of his face in embarrassment. 

 “What’s wrong?” you asked frowning, you had just done what he had said. Your heart was racing for some reason though, you weren’t sure why. 

 Tsukishima couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed your wrist and tugged, pulling you into his chest, and then flipping you over onto the bed, his upper body hovering over yours.

 Your face was completely red, you thought your heart was about to pop, he was way too close and his face held nothing but seriousness.

 What did you do?

 “Tsukishima-” “Quiet.” he demanded.

 You snapped your jaw shut.

 You watched him take a deep breath in before speaking. “You are the most infuriating person I know. You’re stupid and you don’t pay attention to what’s going on right in front of your face.”

 Your nostrils flared slightly in anger. “Well right back at you asshole!” you grumbled back.

 He rolled his eyes and moved his face closer to your own, causing you to quiet down once more.

“But despite how incredibly dense you are, you’re smart, you’re witty, you’re stubborn, you’re hardworking, you’re pretty -”

 You have never been more confused in your entire life. Did he just insult you and then compliment you? Did he just call you pretty?

 “ - and I literally can’t take this anymore.” he pushed up his glasses just a bit. “I’ve given you so many hints, made it so ridiculously obvious, and you still don’t understand you dimwit.”

 You frowned further at his insults. 

 “I like you.” He said, “I’ve liked you for a while now. You just have never noticed. I want you to go out with me.”

 He couldn’t handle the shy expression on your face after his confession. The soft look on your face, and the dark red blush coating your cheeks. His eyes flickered towards your lips, and he started to lean closer. Your soft hands came up and gently rested against his chest, but you never pushed him away. Your eyes fluttered shut as you prepared yourself for what was about to come next.

 You could feel his breath hitting your face gently, causing your lips to part as you readied yourself -

 “Tsukishima! Everyone wanted me to go check on you and -” the door opened suddenly, and Hinata stood staring at the scene before him.

 Tsukishima whipped his head around with a hard glare at the orange haired male who had gone pale, and then had turned dramatically red at the sight before him.

 You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment at the position you and Tsukishima were in. 

 “I-I’m so sorry for interrupting!” Hinata screamed and slammed the door.

 Tsukishima sighed, deflating slightly before removing himself from on top of you. He ignored the blush in his face as he stood up, looking back at you still laying on the bed.

 So incredibly tempting.

 “Wait for me after practice. We can walk home together.” He said simply before leaving the infirmary.

 Did you… did you just get yourself a boyfriend?

 You hoped so.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Promise Me Your Heart

a follow-up to Good as Gold.

Geralt has never voluntarily brought someone new into his life and for a long time, he wasn't sure how to go about it. Eskel has been with him almost as long as he remembers. Vesemir too. Even Lambert has been around since very early on, but Jaskier? Jaskier still feels new even after all these months. But they're making it work and Jaskier has so much patience that some days Geralt doesn't feel like he deserves.

He had expected things to be a disaster, but they're not. Even his inexperience with relationships and Jaskier's total lack of knowledge of anything monster- and survival-related, things are... good. Geralt is happy.

Then he's contracted to protect a wedding party from a pack of drowners that's been hanging around.

It's a good job. Simple enough and they're offering good pay to ensure the beasts aren't seen by the party guests, but Geralt is hesitant. There's not a scrap of doubt in his mind that he adores Jaskier. He's totally useless out here on the Path, but he tries and what Jaskier can get a grasp on he does well and he does often.

But Geralt sometimes worries that Jaskier's unhappy. Lately, he's been catching him looking pensive, scribbling things in his notebook but never seeming to present a song or poem like he normally would. Perhaps Jaskier has a journal as well. When Geralt was young and struggling to deal with emotions he was told he shouldn't have, Vesemir gave him a journal. It was a relief to be able to get all of his emotions out without having to share them and he wonders if Jaskier is doing the same now. He loves Geralt, so maybe he doesn't want to admit that this life isn't what he expected. Maybe he wants to return to Hagge but doesn't want to hurt Geralt's feelings. The thought of it makes his chest tight, but Geralt hasn't been able to bring himself to mention it.

Because what if Jaskier does leave?

Geralt wants him to be happy, but the thought of losing him now... he doesn't even want to think about it. So taking him to a wedding feels like rubbing a life in his face that he will never have.

When he tells him about the contract, Jaskier is delighted, at least outwardly, but there's a tense scent of worry just below the surface that Geralt is nervous about. He frowns and it earns him a swift smack on his arm before Jaskier presses up against his chest.

"Stop sniffing at me," he scolds, "I know you're doing it. I worry every time you take a job and you can't do anything about it. I love you, my darling. I don't want to think about my life without you, but here you are running off into danger every other moment." Geralt opens his mouth to speak, but Jaskier interrupts. "Ah-ah, I know. It's your job, but I'm still allowed to worry." He tips forward, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's lips. "Now, let's get you into that armour, hm?"

Jaskier has become an expert at helping Geralt into his armour - and even more an expert of getting him out of it again later. The next few minutes pass in a blur and then Jaskier kisses him goodbye to go and play at the wedding and Geralt is alone again.

He throws himself into the hunt, clearing his mind of any doubts and insecurities. Because he knows how to do this. He can get this done and protect those people - and Jaskier. Whatever Jaskier wants can come later; he'll deal with it in its own time.

But as soon as he's finished - and has thrown himself in the river to rinse away some of the gore - he returns to find Jaskier in the centre of a circle, playing his lute and beaming. This is where he belongs. Geralt forces up a smile and crosses toward them, keeping an eye out for the mother of the bride. She holds his contract and he'd like to be on his way as quickly as possible.

He finds her with little trouble, talking with a group of people and he stands off to the side to wait. She's quick about excusing herself and she pays him extra and promises to pay Jaskier for his performance as well. It's unusual to find someone so generous and Geralt says as much, but she assures him he has earned it for protecting them.

Once everything has been sorted, Geralt slips away.

The woman has offered them a room in her house, but Geralt prefers the anonymity of an inn or the forest floor. Reluctantly, he accepted her offer to pay for the room. And he's grateful for it now, able to just return to the room and collapse without bartering or worrying about being turned away.

He strips out of his armour in the doorway and steps into the waiting bath. It was poured this morning, so it's cooled down, but he warms the water quickly enough - and it's warmer than the river in any case.

Evidently, Geralt doesn't realize how exhausted he is, because the next thing he knows, Jaskier's hands are in his hair and when he opens his eyes, the room is dark except for a few sparse candles.

"Hey, shh," Jaskier whispers as he bolts upright. "It's just me, love. You must have been tired."

He’s emotionally tired, more than anything, but he doesn't say anything. He warms the water again with igni and lets Jaskier wash the remaining muck from his hair before getting out. Jaskier leads him to bed and strips down to his skin before climbing in after him. Geralt clings to him, tucks his head under Jaskier's chin because if their time is limited, he wants to enjoy him as long as he can. Jaskier cuddles closer, holds him tighter, and for a long time, it's silent.

"Geralt?" he asks after some time. "Are you awake, love?"

"Mm."

"Do you ever... want something but you're afraid to ask for it?" he scoffs at himself almost immediately. "Never mind. I know you do. How do you... deal with it?"

Geralt's chest tightens. He's been waiting for this, but he still doesn't know what to say, how to act. All he knows is that more than anything, he wants Jaskier to be able to find the kind of happiness he's given him.

"If you want to go... I understand. I would never keep you here if you're unhappy." Jaskier pulls away immediately and Geralt knew it was coming, but it still feels abrupt and painful.

"Geralt, I- I don't want to go." His voice is low, he smells scared.

"I want you to be happy."

"I am. Geralt. I don't want to leave."

"You looked so happy this afternoon. At the wedding. Surrounded by all those people."

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh and slips his hand into Geralt's between them. "My love. I was happy seeing the bride and her new husband, the love they shared. I was happy because I thought... maybe we could have that, too?"

"You know I love you," Geralt whispers and Jaskier smiles soft at him, leaning up to press their noses together.

"I know love, and I adore you. I- Geralt, I want to marry you." Shock and delight rush through him in equal measures and Geralt isn't quite sure what to do with himself. He stares blankly for a moment while Jaskier looks at him. "Um?" Jask tries. "Say something?"

"No one would marry us."

Jaskier sighs. "Geralt, I know my upbringing means I'm supposed to marry for money or power or some such nonsense, but-" Geralt cuts him off with a soft kiss, cupping his jaw. He really does love that Jaskier doesn't even consider the obvious.

"Not because of your family, Jask. Because I'm a Witcher. No one would willingly bind another person to a Witcher."

"Then we'll have to do it ourselves." Before Geralt can even reply, Jaskier is slipping out of bed and crossing to the other side of the room and his bags.

When he returns, he's holding a length of blue silk in his hand and Geralt recognizes it. He leans up on one arm, focused on the cloth in his hand and Jaskier smiles as he climbs back up onto the bed.

"I thought you might remember this," he grins and Geralt can't help the way his pulse picks up. Apparently, Jaskier notices because straddles Geralt's hips and dips down to kiss him. "Marry me first," he whispers, "and we can do whatever you want with it later, hm?"

"Okay," Geralt breathes and Jaskier beams at him, kissing him quick and hard again before sitting up.

"I need your hand," he says and Geralt offers it freely. Jaskier winds their fingers together and twists the silk around them, tying it in a knot below their joined hands.

Geralt doesn't know much about marriage, but he knows enough to know this isn't exactly the way it's done. But maybe that's better. Maybe going against tradition is more appropriate for them anyway.

"As this knot is tied," Jaskier starts, "so are our lives now bound. The promises we make here tonight strengthen our union; they will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth. Do you- do you still seek to enter this ceremony?"

"Yes," Geralt whispers and his fingers tighten around Jaskier's.

"Do you promise to be a faithful partner in life? To love me without reservation?"

"I will." Geralt pauses and Jaskier nods. "And you?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to stand by me in times of joy and of sorrow?"

"I will."

"I will," Jaskier echoes. Gently, he unwinds the silk and runs his thumb over Geralt's fingers. "I don't-" he cuts himself off, pulling one of the rings from his left hand.

It's plainer than the others and Geralt has never quite understood why he likes it so much, but Jaskier holds it up, showing him the ring of buttercups on the inside of the band.

"I bought this for you so long ago I'd forgotten about it. But I was afraid to give it to you then, so I wore it myself as a way to keep you close. I want you to have it now." He slips it onto Geralt's finger and it fits surprisingly well.

"How long?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Long enough."

"I don't have one for you."

"That's okay," Jaskier hums. He takes one of his other rings, the one Geralt knows to be his favourite, and slips it off.

"Let me?" Geralt asks and Jaskier gives it to him. He takes Jaskier's hand and he doesn't realize how badly he's shaking until he slips the ring over his finger, pressing it down into place. Jaskier clasps their hands together and leans down to press his forehead against Geralt's. "I think you're supposed to kiss me now," Geralt hums.

Jaskier laughs as their noses bump against each other, then he kisses him, long and soft and sweet. When he pulls away, he doesn't go far.

"My husband," he whispers and something warm and possessive spreads through Geralt's chest.

"Husband," Geralt repeats, testing the word on his tongue. He decides he quite likes it.

[mello-jello]

Don't we all agree that Hange loves to play pranks on Levi? I'm pretty sure the most fucked up joke she made was when she pretended to sacrifice to save humanity and being burn alive? lord, Levi was so pissed off! It tooked like 3 years to finally forgive Hange and they finally living in a small cottage in the forest. How do I know this? Cause I'm their handmaid.

omg anon, how does one get that job? I will do it for free! I would PAY to have that job.

I realize Tumblr is collectively over the BBC Sherlock, but can you just imagine Hange with a stupid pencil drawn on moustache, trying and failing SO HARD to lighten the mood?

Maybe Hange needed to lay low? Maybe the Yeagerists has eyes on Levi, and making contact with him would have put him at risk?

oh no...

UhHHmm... hang on, I made this into a whole thing:

It’s midday and yet the sky is dark. Thick storm clouds circle above, threatening torrential downpour at any moment. The ceremony was good, all things considered. The 104th all gave short speeches about their beloved commander, which was nice. The priest was a little religious but kept the service pretty well non-secular, which is what Hange would have wanted.

Levi on the other hand, would have loved some sort of reassurance that this wasn’t the end. He would love to be able to believe in a heaven, where Hange is spending their time in complete bliss and will be there when it’s his time. He wants to believe there is any sort of omnipotent being in control of everything. He wishes he was capable of that kind of thinking.

And yet.

Everyone has left by now, and Levi’s not sure how he’d been standing there, staring at the freshly laid soil below a headstone. Fighting back tears, he speaks aloud, a last ditch effort to communicate with God or whatever. How does he know for sure Hange’s not listening anyway?

"Hange,” his voice catches as he had been clenching his jaw all day.

“I… I was so alone and I owe you so much. But please, there's just one more thing... one more thing, one more miracle, Hange, for me? Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it. Stop this..."

Levi felt silly. Talking out loud to the dead never appealed to him before, why would he start now? He dropped the bouquet of flowers he was gripping too tightly onto the grave and turned to leave, just as the rain started to pour.

---

Onyankopon, Gabi, and Falco can sense Levi’s depression. It stems from more than the loss of Hange, it comes from everything Levi has ever lost in his entire life. There is no need for Levi to fight anymore. No more distractions. The lack of distractions is what makes living on so difficult.

It’s been three years since that fateful day, and the trio wanted to do something on the anniversary to take Levi’s mind off of it, even if just for an evening. Levi was bitter and cold as usual, but he knew they were just trying to help, and he did appreciate it. So reluctantly, he agreed to a movie and dinner.

He never even needed to shave before, but Levi had grown quite an impressive moustache during this time. The kids seemed to like it, they said he looked distinguished. Levi figured it would also help get attention off his scars.

Gabi and Falco were particularly excited for the movie. It was a musical comedy, of all things. Levi surprised himself by actually kind of laughing at it. He enjoyed the caramelized popcorn, too. At dinner, the 4 of them sat around a fancy table and Levi listened wholeheartedly as the other 3 discussed the movie. At one point, Gabi had shot soda out of her nose from laughing too hard, and Falco was teasing her about it.

Levi was about to interject with a snide remark, when he was suddenly interrupted by a particularly terse waiter.

“Sir, I think, you’ll find this vintage to your liking”, they said in an accent Levi had never heard before, while shoving a bottle of wine in his face. Levi was pissed, as the bottle so rudely brought up unpleasant memories.

“Tch, no.” Levi said as politely as he could muster through his teeth.

“It ’as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new,” they said, as if purposefully ignoring him. Levi was actually having a good time tonight, why did this guy have to be so pushy?

Keeping his locked forward, Levi said again, “No, thank you.”

The waiter switched sides, now on Levi’s left, which had the eye he could see with. Onyankopon gave Levi a sympathetic look as the water continued, “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware they are staring into ze face of an old friend.”

“No, look seriously,” Levi finally breaks and looks up, “could you just-”

Levi’s face drops. His entire body jolts impossibly rigid, as he stares with an expression of utter disbelief.

Hange. Hange was the waiter. They dipped a napkin into a glass of water, and wiped off the fake mustache from their top lip. “Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters,” they said in their normal voice.

“Levi?” Gabi asks, and Levi is suddenly aware that he forgot to breathe. He forgot to blink too. He feared that if he moved in any way, Hange might disappear.

He turns his head to Onyankopon, then his eyes fill with tears and he ducks his head momentarily before he stumbles clumsily to his feet, shaking the table in the process. He looks at Hange again, who then extends their arms, as if expecting Levi to hug them.

“Hange?” Oyankopon questioned, incredulously.

Levi looked down at the table, breathing heavily before locking eyes with Hange again.

“Hey, does your rub off, too?” Hange gestured to Levi’s facial hair, to which he did not find funny. His gaze was slowly turning murderous.

Falco put his hand on Levi’s arm. “What-?”

“Well, long story short,” Hange explained, a little awkwardly. “I’m not dead.”

Hange stares into Levi’s eyes as they slowly realize that this was a bad idea. They start feeling guilty. “It was a bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. I could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny. Okay, it’s not a great defence-”

“I SAW YOU!” Onyankopon broke through their rambling.

“Oh, no-

“YOU DIED!”

“I just checked, and no, no I didn’t!”

Levi made a fist and pounded the table, nearly spilling all their drinks and drawing attention to them. Hange looked around nervously, but Levi did not care, although he whispered, “three years.”

“Okay, Levi, I’m suddenly realising I probably owe you some sort of an apology,”

Levi took another, deliberately deep breath and asked, “how?”

“Just… okay, one question! Let me ask one question,” Hange asked. They pointed to Levi’s moustache, “Are you really going to keep that?” They blurted out in laughter for all of 2 seconds before Levi launched at them. They both crashed to the floor, Levi on top of Hange, trying to throttle them.

[kissme-hs]

𝒩𝑒𝓌-𝐵𝑒𝑒 {𝒸.𝑒}

Hey guys! It’s been a while since I wrote, I’ve been fucking busy with exams and final semester but ya girl is done now so expect fics often. You can always request or if you just want to talk don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask! Here’s a little something based off the following request :)

Anonymous asked:  Chris Evans one shot chris family visits in quarantine after you guys just had your baby girl and it’s just cute watching chris mom cry thanking them for an beautiful grand baby! so the reader hugs her and it’s just cute

Warnings: None. Dad! Chris and bunch of fluff.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem! Reader

Being blessed by a baby girl was everything for you both. Chris always wanted to be a father and ever since you gave birth to your little princess about two weeks ago Chris hasn’t stopped being grateful to you. Every morning he’ll wake up before you, make you tea just the way you like, cut you fruits and bring you in bed. Man didn’t even let you move a single thing. He wanted you to rest as much as you could. Even though the baby was delivered normally and by the grace of god it all went rather smoothly, Chris just wanted you to not worry about anything.

“Good morning baby” He chirped entering your shared bedroom. The smell of the spice tea filling up your nostrils as you stretch your arms, opening your eyes the first thing that came in view was your loving husband, standing there holding the tray. He wore a pink t-shit and a pair of sweats, the reflection of the t-shirt tinting the apple of his now shaved cheeks, after the birth of the newborn Chris immediately shaved his perfect fluffy beard because he read in one of the books that facial hair could irritate the sensitive skin of the baby. And no being able to give his sweetheart a kiss was the last thing he’d want. Seemed like 2010’s Chris era was back.

“Morning husband” you smiled sitting up to which Chris responded by setting the tray on side table and supporting your back with the palm of his hand. A soft chuckle left your mouth as you shook your head. Dad Chris was definitely extra caring and loving. Kissing your forehead Chris walked over to his side of the bed and put the tray on his lap.

“You know I’m feeling normal now baby, besides just a little soreness in my boobs” you smiled running your fingers through his soft hair and cupping his cheek, feeling the radiating warmth of you palm against his skin Chris nuzzled his nose further in the plushy skin of your hand.

“Hmm let me spoil you honey; you’ve given me the greatest gift of all. Please let me take care of you”

“But sweetness you already take care of both of us, though I might have given birth to our new one, I can never forget my first big baby” You said making his laugh out loud as he brings you closer by your chin and places a sweet long kiss on your lips.

“I love you”

“I love you too” you whispered against his lips before pulling away. His eyes sparked with the new responsibility that just came over him few days ago. Not wanting it to go away ever you remembered the day you told him you were pregnant.

“So, do you want to take break now or after the baby is born?” you asked him closing your book s he froze in track while getting under the covers of the comfortable soft bed.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean the parenting leave baby, munchkin is all set in mama’s belly” you smiled wide as you placed his hand over your belly biting your lower lip waiting for his reply. And not to your shock, his eyes instantly teared up as he attacked you with a big hug, sobbing softly in your neck making you tear up yourself. Chris always desired a family and now it was all happening, he was going to be a dad.

Pulling away he wiped his tears and lifted your t-shirt up to reveal where your love rested safely, not showing yet. He pressed his lips to the soft skin and closed his eyes letting his lips linger for a few seconds.

“Hi bubba, daddy is never leaving your side. He’ll be here now and after you’re born. I love you already my sweet love”

The memories still remained fresh after 10 months.

After a while you finished and even though you told him you were, he insisted to go clean the place and then start preparing lunch before Lisa, his mother arrives to visit the newborn. Giving in knowing the man would do what he wants regardless, you let him do so. Once you took a shower and got ready you went to your daughter’s room who was wide awake sucking on her fist probably because she was hungry.

Cooing you picked the little bundle of happiness and brought her downstairs where her father was busy stirring the sauce for now almost ready meatballs. With apron tied around his waist, his backing facing you as you stood there admiring him with your daughter in your arms. Post pregnancy emotions were no good than the previous once you had while the baby was still in the womb. Seeing his arms flexing with every move and his perfect round ass through the grey sweatpants made your mouth water. Only if you were granted the permission to have sex by your doctor, the head you would’ve given the man.

“Smells good sexy” You said walking over to him and slapping his peachy ass.

“Hey outta kitchen. You know you girls aren’t allowed inside for a few days baby” He said washing his hands and wiping with the hand towel he had placed on his shoulder before softly pushing you out of the kitchen until you were in the living room.

“babe come on, we just wanted some daddy time!! Right peaches?” you kissed your daughter’s nose which she instantly scrunched with the cold contact of your lips with his warms nose making Chris laugh. Bending down he kissed his baby’s forehead and then pecked your lips before the doorbell caught your attention.

“Mum’s here” He announced marching towards the door and engulfing his mother in a big warm hug. Walking over to her you did the same followed by Lisa rushing to wash her hands and taking the little one from your arms. Her heart filling up with adoration and love looking down upon her grandchild. You smiled softly at your mother-in-law before leading her to the living room where she could get comfortable and warm by the fireplace.

Out of all the months new bee decided to join the family in midst November in heavy snow. But you were glad, you would celebrate the Christmas as a family of three.

“She’s beautiful sweetheart” Lisa smiled as the little one wrapped her fingers around her granny’s index while she was being fed. Once you all finished your lunch it was time for the baby so here you were all four settled, comfy in front of the fireplace and crackling wood with soft music in the back.

“Thank you Ma” you said before placing the baby on your shoulder to burp her after she you’re your nipple getting sleepy. Her eyes dropping close.

“Here, I’ll burp her and put her to bed” Chris said standing up from his comfort and taking the baby from your arms before placing her on his shoulder and rubbing her back and making his way over to her room. The soft sound of Chris humming could be heard down the hallway. You were too busy in appreciating the man when the muffled sniffles caught your attention. Lisa wiped her tears with her thumb as you rubbed her back.

“Mum you okay?”

“Yes honey, just overwhelmed. I cannot thank you enough darling. You’ve made my son the happiest he’s ever been” she smiled cupping your cheek and placing a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes picked up tears with the motherly love she radiated. And now becoming a mother yourself, you understood how much your child’s happiness matters.

“No ma, I love your son to death to not give him what he deserves” You smiled pulling the old lady in a hug kissing her cheek.

“He’s all I ever wanted”