but i've had this in my drafts for so long sigh

10 Tips for Writing (Good) Smut

so. let’s do this.

About a year ago, I had to read a book for my school’s summer reading assignment called How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster. It’s not a bad book, pretty decent actually, but there was this one chapter about sex scenes in literature. And one of the first sentences was along the lines of “writing sex is boring.”

and I did a double-take. Bc in my experience, that is absolutely not the case, and if you do find yourself bored while writing smut, then you’re not doing it right. See, Thomas’s main argument was that there’s only so many ways you can write sex scenes, because there’s only so many sex acts you can choose from. (My boy Thomas is clearly a vanilla dude, but let’s not hold that against him.) 

But one of the most important things to keep in mind while writing smut is that it’s not necessarily just about the act itself. So while Thomas is right that there are limits as to how many ways ppl can have sex, he failed to realize that writing sex is about a LOT more than that. And I’m gonna prove it to you.

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(You Turn Me Into) Somebody Loved: Connor/Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: All things considered, you’re probably not the first person to find your soulmate after spotting their signature on somebody’s cast. The magic of that moment doesn’t fix everything, but it fixes enough.

Word Count: 6616

You had pictured the first day of your senior year more times than you could count. You envisioned making the familiar drive, walking into a school you knew like the back of your hand, and finishing high school with the same people you started it with. The beginning of a year full of stress and fun and college applications and parties.

None of those visions looked like this: sitting in your car outside of a new school half an hour before the first bell, your thighs sticking to the seat while you tried to work up the nerve to walk inside. Your nails scratched at the leather of the steering wheel while you took a few deep breaths and let yourself run the numbers again. You ghosted your hand over the name scrawled just under your collarbone, the one that had appeared like clockwork on your sixteenth birthday. The one that belonged to your soulmate.


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Irreplaceable (Pt.1)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jimin X reader

Fandom: BTS

Summary: “Would you do whatever it takes to make someone fall in love with you?”


Originally posted by softjvngkook

Your eyes laid heavily on the white wall behind the sleeping body next to you. As they scanned their way down you stopped, catching a glimpse of his sleeping face. The face you could practically stare at for hours, analyzing every crease and little mark. His eyes peacefully laid shut, puckered thick lips closed shut, and his messy blond hair, were all things that came together in what seemed like a masterpiece. A masterpiece wrapped up in the most beautiful white sheets and the sun just barely shining through the windows onto his bare upper body.

A small crack of a smile was placed on your lips as you reached a hand out to stroke his face with the back of it. 

“I had to fall in love with you, didn’t I?” You whispered to yourself, moving up to his hair.

Your hand collapsed onto the bed as you continued to look over at him. He was close enough that you could feel his body heat, but at the same time you felt as though he couldn’t have been further. You let out a sigh, sitting up in the bed, searching for your clothes that had to be somewhere on the ground. You threw the blanket off of you, standing up as you spotted them. 

The movement from you waking up must have woken Jimin up as you heard a low groan midway through sliding your dress back on.

“Morning, babe.” Jimin let out, stretching his arms over his head as he still lazily laid in his bed. 

You turned your head only slightly over your shoulder, smiling over at him. 


Jimin tried his best to sit up, resting his face on his palm as he used the other hand to rub his eye. 

“You’re leaving already?” He questioned, seeing you fully dressed, clutching the same pair of shoes from the night before.

“Well, it’s not like you won’t ever see me again. Just call me whenever you miss me~ I’m only a few minutes away.” 

Jimin sat back, smirking. “What if i’m missing you already?”

The obvious lie struck you so hard you had to stop yourself from clutching your chest. With a fake smile you walked over to him, feeling his soft hand grabbing at your wrist. His thumb gently caressed over it as he stared at you lovingly.

“Jiminie, I promised Yoongi I’d hand out with him for lunch. I was going to head over to the studio and we woke up late. It’s already 11:00.”

“Do you like him more than me?” He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

The string of jealously in his tone stuck out to you, you knew he was the jealous type but he never acted that way towards you. You wondered if he had been hiding it this whole time, falling for his trap once more. 

“You know I don’t like anyone else more than you.” You assured him, dropping the shoes that were in your hands. 

He bit his lip,holding back his smile as you propped your body above him, allowing his hands to find their way comfortably on your sides. 

“That’s good to know.” He whispered before pulling you into a kiss. 


Yoongi sat at his desk, scrolling through the same bullshit on his Twitter feed for the past hour. It wasn’t until he heard you call out his name that his head snapped up, finally relieved from what felt like his eternal wait. 

“Y/N. You’re late.”

You pulled the bags of food from behind your back, smiling at him brightly.

“Yeah but I got your favorite~” You sang, setting the plastic bag of food down on the coffee table. 

Yoongi lazily sat up, taking his feet off of his desk as he turned in your direction. 

“Where were you this morning? I texted you a few times because I thought you blew me off.”

The question had you rethinking about the events of this morning, still being able to smell the scent from Jimin’s room as you wore a shirt you may or may not have taken with you. It had your lips already perking up into a smile, biting your lower one. 

“I was busy trying to pick out what to bring you and then traffic was really bad-.”

“Bullshit.” He sighed, opening the containers of food.

It took seconds before he stopped mid- setting the lid down for him to look up at you again. The glare in his eyes was enough to make your shoulders flinch but you looked away, pouting. 

“Y/N. Seriously? You said you’d stop.” 

“Maybe I changed my mind.” You defended, still avoiding his gaze.

“This is toxic and you know it. I’m not trying to control you, I’m trying to help you. This is only going to make things worse, I already told you how he really feels. You’re just something to keep Jimin busy.” Yoongi warned, finally placing the lid down on the clear coffee table.

“You’re wrong. I confessed to him like a year ago and he wouldn’t be saying the things he does now if he didn’t actually mean them. He sounded jealous when I told him I was hanging out with you. Then, he told me he would miss me when I left.”

“Because who else would he fuck? Look, he’s not a bad guy but he thinks you both have this weird mutual friends with benefits sort of thing. You actually falling in love isn’t part of it. Plus he knows I’ve been telling you to stop messing around with him.” He groaned.

You sat there quietly, watching as Yoongi snapped apart his wooden chopsticks from the wrapper. He was already digging into the food, probably starving from waiting so long for you to show up. You knew he was right but it felt wrong to even admit it in your mind. You didn’t want to give up.

“Y/N. We both know he says a lot of things to make you happy but he’s still seeing other people isn’t he? He’s not in love with you.”

“Yet.” You mumbled under your breath.

“He just doesn’t want to settle down and I respect that. I’m fine with things the way they are now, anyway. I just want him to know that i’m there for him even if it’s like this. He’s really stressed lately.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well who isn’t? Respect yourself and stop giving him whatever he wants like a child. I don’t care if he’s out there hurting other people but I don’t want him hurting you. You’re important to us even if he doesn’t care.”

It was hard for you to even picture cutting it off with him, he was there for you when things got hard, just as you were for him. You were friends with all of them so long you could barely recall the first day you had met, knowing that it was in fact because of Yoongi. Jimin just had this feeling that engulfed you every time you met eyes or heard him speaking your name out loud. You refused to think that he would even think of throwing your friendship away because he thought you were easy and part of you was right. He didn’t think you were easy but sometimes he would end up using you on days that felt the hardest. But who didn’t do that? 

“I care about you too. It’s just hard…Yoongi. I seriously, think i’m in love with him. I’ve never wanted to be around someone so much. I never wanted to do things like I would with him. I miss him when he’s not around me and I jump at any chance to go over and see him. I know it must look pathetic but I just- I’m afraid if I let him go, it really will be over.”

Watching you start to tear up made your best friend grudgingly put down his plate, coming over to sit next to you. Yoongi slung his arm over your shoulder, letting you rest your head on him. 

“I know. I’m sorry I can be harsh sometimes. I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know? You deserve someone you can actually give you what you want. It’s his loss and he’ll realize it sooner or later.”

While Yoongi attempted to comfort you, you felt your phone vibrating in your lap. As you leaned your head down to see the same, you realized what perfect timing he always had. Jimin’s name could be read on the screen as well as his text. 

 Jiminie ♥ : 

               “I know you said you were headed to see Yoongi but I’m also at                             the company if you wanna come see me”

Listening to Yoongi, for once, you placed your phone face down on your lap instead of answering right away. You sat up, having Yoongi’s arm slide off of you, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.

“You’re right. I’ll make him see how much he wants me even if he doesn’t right now.”

Burnt Into Ashes (OCs, sickfic, part 3)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5 (final)

By the time Elliott got to the restaurant, Liam was waiting for him with an unbridled glare. Elliott half expected a slap in the face when Liam strode toward him - it had never happened before, even during their worst fights heading into the breakup, but Elliott wouldn’t have put it past him.

“You’re late, Chapman,” Liam snapped, though Elliott thought he saw a flicker of…something in his face. It might have been sympathy, but it disappeared so quickly that he could just as easily have imagined it. “What do you have to say for yourself, then?”

Elliott opened his mouth to reply, to tell him he was sick, he shouldn’t even be here to begin with when he wasn’t scheduled, but he didn’t have a chance to form so much as a syllable before his nose twitched. Liam was the last person he wanted to sneeze around, but he didn’t get a choice in the matter as he hastily twisted to the side.

hh’EHGKTzISSH’u!” Wincing, he emerged from his forearm, trying to blink away the pounding ache that spiked in his temple. His throat burned, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without coughing.

Liam recoiled, and in his haze, Elliott couldn’t tell whether it was out of disgust or…other reasons. “Good lord, keep that to yourself, will you?”

Elliott scowled and cleared his raw throat. He tried to pretend the comment didn’t sting - he supposed he should’ve expected  it. “Tryi’g. You’re the ode called mbe id. How lo’g ab I worki’g, adyway? You ndever said.”

Elliott knew he was pushing his luck, but Liam, for once, did not admonish him for his bristly tone. Instead he seemed to genuinely consider it. “Through the lunch rush, at least, and quite probably through dinner as well. I suppose I did say you could do half, inconvenient as it is…”

“Id–idcodvediedt?” Elliott stammered, incredulous.

“Yes,” Liam said briskly. “We are short today, as I said. So I’ll need you as long as possible.”

Elliott stared, mouth hanging open. He wasn’t sure if it was the fever or the shock of Liam blatantly ignoring how ill he was that was muddling his head, but either way, he didn’t have enough time to sort out his thoughts before Liam spoke again.

“Get to work now, will you?” With that, Liam turned on his heel to wait his own tables, leaving Elliott standing, stunned and shivery, in the lobby. He wished more than anything that he could keep his sweatshirt on while he worked, but alas, he hung it on the hook in the coat room and clocked in before trudging to his section. He was freezing, and it made him cough each time the tremors tore through him.

As he rattled off the specials to the couple at his first table, he kept stumbling over the words, trying not to stammer or sniffle. In the end, he wasn’t sure how much they even heard through the thickness in his voice, and he didn’t care. He had to sneeze so badly that he barely scribbled down their orders and took their menus before he wheeled around and buried his face in his elbow.

hh’GSsSH’mpf! hnh’nKGTZSHh! h-hh-hAH! AEGKJISsSHU!” Trying to hold them back did absolutely nothing but make the last of the triple harsher and wetter. He bit back a groan as he straightened, increasingly aware of how badly his body ached and how much he wished he could just sit down.

“What did I say about keeping that to yourself?”

Elliott jumped, snapping his head up to find Liam in front of him, arms crossed. Elliott didn’t have the will to argue, and his words came out feeble and hoarse. “Told you, I’b tryi’g. Y’kdow I cad’t stop theb like–” Like you can.

Liam’s frown deepened, though he glossed over Elliott’s unfinished reminder as if he hadn’t heard it at all. “Be that as it may, I won’t be losing customers because one of my employees is–disgusting–around the food.” He tripped over the middle of the sentence, and Elliott knew what he’d meant to say. Sneezing. He was sneezing around the food, and Liam still had trouble saying the word in public.

“Either that or spe’d half the day sdeezi’g id the bathroob,” Elliott muttered with a tired sniffle. “A’d you’ve already mbade it clear what you thigk of that.”

Liam appeared to be considering his employee’s predicament, lips pursed in a thin line. He soon made it clear, however, that this was not the case. “Regardless, have some courtesy. You can do as you please later.”

“Rhh-huh’IGHJShihSsH!..right…” Elliott breathed, dissolving into a regrettable bout of coughing. God, he wished Liam weren’t such an arse. He’d give just about anything for a bit of rest and a hot cup of tea. It would at least soothe his throat, which had been destroyed by the single sneeze.

“Did you even bother to take anything this morning?” Liam asked, clipped and irritable. If Elliott hadn’t known better, he might have mistaken it for some sort of abrasive concern. But of course, Liam had to be long over him. It had been months, after all.

Elliott balked at the question. “Nd-doh,” he admitted, sheepishly. “Forgot.”

Liam sighed, exasperated. “Of course you did.” He turned to leave without a hint of sympathy, nor an offer to let him off - as if Elliott expected either. “Just don’t pass out on me, alright?”

Elliott had taken to absently massaging his temple with the heel of his hand, and though he was sure he might fall asleep if he stood still too long, he replied with a mumbled, “Woulded’t dreab of it…”

Despite what he said, Elliott couldn’t shake the bone deep exhaustion that had him dragging through the entirety of lunch. He did his best not to look as miserable as he felt, but if he accomplished even a fraction of the attentiveness he didn’t have, he would have been amazed. Three times he wrote an order down wrong and had to stumble back to the kitchen to exchange it, each time earning him a grumble from Liam and a look of pity from anyone in the vicinity. Twice, he was asked why he was there, and when he offered his reasoning, his co-workers were stunned that even Liam would keep him there looking as awful as he did.

Elliott himself did his best to avoid the mirrors in the bathroom, especially when he ducked in to succumb to another sneezing fit. He didn’t need to make it worse by seeing how terrible he looked with his own eyes. It was enough to read the looks on everyone’s faces, ranging anywhere from poorly concealed disgust to deep concern.

Still, he managed, for the most part, to keep pace with the rush until near the end when a series of dizzy spells overtook him. He was aware by now that his fever had risen, and while he tried to ignore it, it was wearing him out. His shirt stuck to his back and he shivered each time a draft hit him. He was on his way back to a table, bearing a tray of drinks when he caught himself stumbling sideways. He caught himself against the wall, but in the process sacrificed the tray and its contents to the floor with a loud CLANG!

Someone came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, hey, are you alright?” It took him a minute to realize it was Gabriel, one of the restaurant’s newer employees - a tall, lanky fellow about Elliott’s age, and kind as anything. Elliott was grateful for the steadying hand as he tried to straighten and regain focus through the fog in his brain.

“Y-yeah, I’b fihh-huh–IGKtZIhSSH!” The sneeze cut him off, and he was immediately bracing himself against the wall again, bent almost double. “Hehh-hh’EHJSsSHISH! hah’AEGHSsChU! hih’yIGHTSsSCHU! h-haehhEIJhSSCHISSH’uh!” Gabriel kept a steady hold on his arm, and if Elliott were honest, it was half the reason he didn’t sink to the floor then and there. He brought his free hand to his face, covering clumsily with the back of his wrist when the sneezes kept coming. “h-hih’IhJSCHISH’U! huh’UHKgTZISSH’h! hah’AEHJSZHISHh! huh’EHGKTzISSHU!

Each one was explosive and had him curling in on himself. He couldn’t take a full breath between, and even if he could, breathing hurt after all the coughing he’d done over the course of the day. He couldn’t even attempt to stop the sneezes, they were so forceful, so insistent, so merciless.

Gabriel’s hand left his shoulder, and for a moment, Elliott was sure he would fall over. He tried to open his eyes to see where his co-worker had gone, but each time, he had to slam them shut again. “hiEHh–EHZhJISsSH’U! huh’UHkGTZSCH! Hh-h-hehh! IDhJzSSCH’u!

Just as Elliott was considering letting himself drop, the hand returned, and this time with another that pressed several paper napkins into Elliott’s own. He hadn’t thought about it until now, so wrapped up was he in remaining on his feet, but he desperately needed them. He crushed them to his face as the fit finally tapered off, blowing his nose in the aftermath. The ordeal left his head spinning, and Gabriel steadied him when he swayed.

“Are you certain you’re okay?” Gabriel asked. “I don’t have a car, but I can call a cab for you.”

Elliott had time neither to answer nor recover before another voice cut in.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” Elliott blinked in an effort to clear away the fuzzy blackness at the edges of his vision and found Liam, gesturing to the pool of drinks on the floor. “What are you two doing? This isn’t the time for tea and cuddles, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He pointed at Gabriel with a sharp jab of his finger. “You - clean that up while I deal with him.”

“But–Liam–” Gabriel started.

“I said take care of it!” Liam barked, and then turned to Elliott without leaving any room for discussion. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, anyway?”

“S..sdeezi’g…” Elliott mumbled. Both his own voice and Liam’s sounded distant in his ears, and he was surprised at how difficult it was to get the one word out. It was like speaking through molasses, like his lips had gone numb and he had forgotten how to make words.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Liam said, nearly shouting at him. “Your table is waiting, and now you’ve been here for god knows how long chatting with the new boy–”

“Liam, you’re being a bit hard on him,” said someone else, a girl - Alisa. She was always sticking up for Elliott when Liam came down hard on him, and Elliott was especially grateful for it right now. He was starting to zone out of the conversation, only catching snippets of what they were saying. His hearing faded in and out, though he caught a bit where Liam barked at him again to retrieve another tray of drinks.

Elliott willed his legs to move, but they wouldn’t budge. “Liab…” he said, barely a whisper. “I…I ndeed t’ sit d…” He didn’t manage to finish the sentence as the blackness encroached and the scene blurred before him.

“Watch it, he’s–!”

Elliott didn’t get to hear what he was. He was only aware of his body going weak, and then his knees buckled. He didn’t feel himself hit the floor.

devonnicas  asked:

Since I'm Jonrya trash for life too I've found your tumblr(I'm Mirealona). So, the numbers are 47, 76, 93 and 100. (Frankly speaking I would send you much more) BUT I just don't wanna be too bothersome aaaand I take my leave now :)

A ficlet for 93: “I like it when you smile.” 

(I’ll tag you when I finish the others!) 

With a heavy sigh, Jon puts down a piece of parchment reporting the current contents of the Night’s Watch stores. He had never been particularly good with sums, but he need not be to know that they did not have enough to make it long into Winter. He wishes for counsel from men who had served the Watch longer than he has, who had weathered winters and come out stronger for it—men like Lord Commander Mormont or Maester Aemon. He misses Sam, who would no doubt be able to find him books on the matter no sooner than he requested it of him. Fleetingly Jon thinks of his father; Ned Stark had taught him much of lordship, but he had been a greenboy back then who had not listened as closely as he might have. Then Jon remembers the men who are here with him now—his brothers—and thinks to call upon the stewards once again on the morrow for their wisdom on such matters.

After stretching to ease the aching muscles of his back, Jon reaches for a stack of letters to reread and draft his responses. He no sooner unfolds one when the door of his chamber opens and his sister slips through, shutting it behind her.

Arya has not long been with him at the Wall. Though her arrival had been a spark amidst the cold, Jon cannot say he is glad to have her here among the men. She had refused him when he had offered her lodgings in Mole’s Town. He did not want to part from her, but he caught the Brothers leering at her as many do when any woman steps foot in Castle Black. That Arya had somehow bloomed into a beauty in the years they had been lost to one another only added to his worry for her. His fears did not abate after she beat a man bloody for touching her waist, and Jon begins to think that nothing will ease this sickness in his stomach. Though she has proven she can handle herself, Jon still feels responsible for her though he will never say so to her face.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

She looks up at him from where she unlaces her boots, having already discarded her cloak on a nearby chair. Her gaze stirs something inside of him, something that Jon is none too proud of.

“Some. Your men must know every song in the Seven Kingdoms about bedding wenches. I think they mean to make me slick and hungry.”


It should not surprise him, the way she talks. She’s been around the small folk of Westeros and beyond by her telling. Once not long ago she had even admitted to him that she’d begun training as a courtesan, but he had stopped her. Jon had not wanted to know how far that had gone. Before, he might have attributed it to her being his little sister; now, he thinks it more jealousy.

The way she moves around him sets him on edge. There is a heaviness between them, thick with unspoken want. Oh, they have acted on it for certain. An emotional reunion spun into frantic need behind closed doors. He saw himself in her, laid bare. Her lady mother may have had a chance to tame her back then with time and patience, but Arya has been gifted to the wild now by Old and New Gods alike. Shame may roil in her belly when they touch, but Jon thinks she no longer cares. Much and more has been taken from them both, and Arya will not bear it any longer. She had started by taking him back. Though he had begged his vows, her eyes—their eyes, the same gray of the North—pleaded with him until he could not tell her no.

Jon does not stop her as she climbs onto him in his chair. Her look troubles him as she settles onto his lap. Once he would have known what ailed her as if he too had suffered it. Questions plague him—what happened to you out there, little sister? Tell it to me true as you always have. Jon does not ask though, not yet. Instead, he strokes her pale cheek with his thumb before he brings it to her plump, lower lip.

“I miss your smile.”

It occurs to him too late that he should not say such a thing, that it might make her feel as if he only wants his little sister back. While he longs to see her lips pull upward in joy, he will take whatever Arya has been given him. During his time Beyond the Wall, he had thought he would never see her again. That she is here with him and warm beneath his skin is a greater gift than he could ever have asked for.  

Arya presses her lips against the pad of this thumb, then opens her mouth to capture it between her teeth. She gives a little squeeze before releasing him, and Jon’s heart skips as one corner of her mouth twitches upward.

“I only bite now.”

They say he is a somber, brooding man, but it’s not so when he is with Arya. The feel of her teeth lingering on his skin makes him grin. The Arya of his childhood always claimed to be a wolf, acted the part, and had even bitten Robb once when he’d attempted to return her to Septa Mordane at his lady mother’s behest. Her playfulness now reminds him of then.

Perhaps his smile encourages her. Perhaps it reminds her too of better, unburdened days. Jon does not quite know what it stirs in her, but she leans down to capture his lips. It is hard and urgent, and the heat between her legs brings his own urgency to bear on him. His lip is soon caught between her teeth, and she is none too gentle this time.

Little wolf.


Gods how you’ve grown.

As he rises from the chair, her legs wrap around him, her lips and teeth still greedy. A fleeting thought reminds him that there should be great shame in this. He should feel disgust instead of the painful hardness tight in his breeches. He might have, once, if it had not been for time, for distance, for death itself. Their reunion ought to be an impossible thing, yet they are in one another’s arms. That first time, it had not been close enough, not with the clothes between them. They had both needed more, not flesh against flesh, but joined together as one. The Gods had treated them cruelly, had stripped them of nearly everything.

You owe us your forgiveness in this, Jon thinks as he lays Arya on his bed. The North remembers, and this debt you will pay.

a few words concerning Jeyne Westerling, Jeyne Poole and their importance in Robb and Theon's storylines

Along with a nice epilogue about how much D&D could have gotten it a lot better when talking about the adaptation.

[this meta is dedicated to emiliosandoz - she said she’d post hers on Theon if I dusted this off from my drafts and actually finished and I’m upholding my part of the bargain]

with this, I mean how the fact that Jeyne Poole isn’t the show so far and that Jeyne Westerling was changed into a new character with a different name, are both imo pretty bad moves. Meaning: it probably doesn’t change *too much* in the big picture and it certainly isn’t as horrible as some of the book/show divergences until this point (I mean, the basic economy of the story and the basic outcomes didn’t change, but the way it went changes things a lot) it still shows that they missed one of the most interesting parallelisms going on with Robb and Theon’s storylines and that they also missed a good part of the entire point of both narratives.

(Disclaimer the first: obviously I have no clue if they’re still planning to introduce Jeyne Poole - I should hope - but even if they do and she’s everything she is in the book it still doesn’t work because of the changing-Jeyne-Westerling-to-Talisa deal.) 

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caejose modern au


  • joseph is back from uni for the summer and gets a job at the daycare because he loooooves kids
  • (maybe the daycare is run by uncle speedy???? i love the idea of speedwagon taking care of all these kiddos)
  • and every day caesar drops off like three kids right as the daycare opening and comes to pick them up right before closing time
  • joseph is super curious about him because he LOVES gossip and caesar can’t be more than a few years older than him but he already has three kids???
  • and sometimes a teenage girl comes to pick them up instead like?? is she their sister??? or the mom???? like what’s going on
  • uncle speedy tells him the truth before joseph gets too excited
  • turns out caesar’s parents are dead so as the oldest of five siblings he takes it on himself to take care of his family
  • the second oldest is in high school and has a summer job so she can’t take care of the other kiddos
  • literally they’re both working like crazy to make ends meet
  • uncle speedy gave them a discount for daycare fees
  • he offered to do it for free because he was nonno zeppeli’s bff and he has known caesar since he was a baby
  • but ofc caesar refused, it was all speedy could do to make him take the discounted price
  • anyway joseph is a quick favourite amongst the kids
  • and one day he meets the whole zeppeli clan shopping for groceries
  • (ofc joseph’s trolley is full of like pop tarts and doritos and ready meals)
  • (caesar’s is all proper food because they make a huge batch of food during the weekend and then keep leftovers for the week)
  • the kiddos swarm joseph and are generally super excited
  • and caesar’s just like “ah yes hello the daycare guy, joseph right?”
  • and they have a bit of an awkward chat in the cereal aisle
  • the kids are a good buffer and joseph isn’t like SUPER awkward he just feels like it because caesar is a very attractive man and he seems to have his life together while joseph is just. a potato
  • but it’s fine and on monday caesar sends a slice of the lasagne he made to daycare with the kiddos
  • and that evening when caesar comes to pick em up joseph is just like play it cool play it cool
  • “thanks for the lasagne it was super good how did you make it like that you should give me the recipe” #CASUAL
  • “oh yea def what’s your email i’ll send it to you”
  • and the communication begins
  • i don’t know exactly where this goes but they like start hanging out and stuff and the kids are there and love them both 
  • and uncle speedy is just in the background sighing like ‘ah… youth…’ 
  • and sometimes joseph comes over to the zeppeli hosue to babysit and caesar comes home to his four siblings sprawled out over joseph’s huge body, all fast asleep while frozen plays on the tv
  • aaaaaaaaaaa
Update on Bleach ending re-do progress

As some of you know, I was very, very unhappy with the way the Bleach manga ended a few weeks ago. Since then, I’ve been working on a project: draw my OWN version of how I feel Bleach should have ended, cutting the last 2 chapters. I’ve been drafting, a LOT, and I’ve made some progress on the actual comic (first 8 pages of first chapter), but it’s been slow going. I hope some people are interested in this, and are willing to support me in taking my time because 1) there are a LOT of plot holes/shafted characters I’d like to cover and I’d like to not fuck up, and 2) while my own art style is pretty darn similar to Kubo’s in a lot of ways, I’ve also evolved quite a few personal quirks and it’s pretty darn hard to imitate Kubo’s style to make it actually look like the official manga.

ANYWAY. I think the way I want to do this is to try to draw 2 chapters (around 18 pages each, SJ style), which I may break up into 4 parts to post because of Tumblr’s 10-image limit. HOWEVER, that is DEFINITELY not enough space to cover all the ground I feel Kubo should have covered, so I will be making “add-on” posts, with either their own mini-comics or illustrations and headcanons covering characters I couldn’t include in the main chapters or big plot points that are just too much to illustrate given what space I have.

NOTE: This project is NOT about ships. I don’t care what you ship, or whether you were happy or not with the “canon” ships. It was a shitty ending. None of the canon ships had enough build up (tbh, I personally think only 1 non-married het ship in the entire series had enough build up I’d consider it legitimately canon. It includes none of the main characters). There were too many major plot points left hanging, or never addressed. There are too many characters left lying in the battle field, who we don’t know are alive or dead, and too many characters who are just forgotten. THAT is what this project is about.

Some of the add on posts may feature mention of some ships among minor characters, but for this project, I will not feature ships featuring any of the core characters, however you’d like to define them.

Anyway, to give teeny tiny preview, my current working title is:

And a few preview clips:


Stop by and talk to me if this sounds interesting! Talking to people helps motivate me ^ ^;

I'm Not Sure How to Do This Without You // Mark Tuan

Originally posted by j-miki

I’m trying to write the first part to my Jaebum series but since I’ve written and scrapped a thousand drafts, I’m taking a break and bringing you Mark Tuan. Lol. Enjoy.

Pairing: Mark Tuan (GOT7) x Reader
Genre: very slight angst/fluff

Keep reading

i-am-emerald-dust  asked:

I've currently been feeling like literally everything I do is wrong and it makes me incredibly terrified of screwing things up potentially - even small things like cleaning the dishes, idk - it just sucks and has been clogging up my mind a lot lately... for the pairing gajevy would be nice, but gruvia or jerza would be absolutely fine with me too, I'll let you pick. Thank you for doing this btw, it's really kind of you and the world needs more people like you imo <3

A/N: These are taking longer than I hoped they would, and I’m so sorry I didn’t get to them sooner. I’ve just been in a really bad mindset and couldn’t find the drive and I didn’t want to do these half-assed.

That being said, I know exactly how you’re feeling and let me tell you you aren’t doing everything wrong. It’s okay to be scared of screwing things up but remember a lot of it you can fix, and a lot can be forgiven <3

I know it’s been a few months. I hope you’re feeling better.

(Levy isn’t my forte. I’ve never written her before, so I hope this is okay!)

It’d been about a month since Laxus’ rampage on Fairy Tail, and Levy still hadn’t really said anything to Gajeel.

Aside from defending her the once, he didn’t interact with people much. He got on Natsu’s nerves, and once in awhile Levy would see him talking to Juvia, but for the most part he kept to himself and went on jobs alone.

Until a few days ago, things around the guild started getting a little weird.

There was a small fire that charred one of the pillars that Juvia had to put out. Erza had gotten food poisoning from a piece of strawberry cake and had been forced into bed for a few days. Lucy had used a new pen that’d exploded onto a new chapter draft and ruined days worth of work, and Happy had been…less than himself when eating a mysterious fish.

Odd occurrences like these weren’t uncommon around the guild and normally Levy would’ve thought nothing of it…

If Gajeel hadn’t been around before every single one.

Unfortunately, this meant that Levy would have to say something and confront Gajeel about it, and maybe even go to the Master about it.

This was not something she was looking forward to.

It was nighttime, and everyone had either headed home or to the Fairy dorms. Levy waited outside the back of the guild, listening for the telltale klunking footsteps of the dragonslayer.

She didn’t have to wait long.

He didn’t notice her, which in itself was weird with his enhanced hearing. His shoulders were hunched, hands deep in his pocket as he slunk away toward the tree-line.


He spun around, arm already morphed into a club and Levy swallowed at the sight of it. The last time she’d seen that look, she’d ended up pinned to the trunk of that tree.

She steadied her breathing.

“Shorty…” he grumbled, shaking out his hand and straightening up, “what’re you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s been some weird things going on around the guild lately.”

She’d been expecting a lot of things when she thought about talking to Gajeel.

She’d maybe thought he would get defensive and walk away. She thought he’d get angry and tell her to keep her mouth shut. She’d thought he wouldn’t react at all if he hadn’t done it. 

She hadn’t expected him to blush.

He scratched at the back of his neck, gaze downcast, “You saw that…huh?”

Levy had no words. She just stared at him, slack-jawed.

“I was trying to bring Salamander some fire from a job,” he said softly, hand now stilled on his neck, “but I tripped.”

Levy raised an eyebrow, “Erza?”

“I left the cake out too long before getting it into the fridge,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.


He shrugged, “I didn’t think that pens could explode like that.”


Gajeel straightened, “Misinformation from a marketplace.”

With each reason, Levy found no deceit and all that was left was confusion.


Gajeel met her gaze, arms now crossed.

“Was just try’na be nice,” he looked away again. “Wanted to make up for trashin’ the guild, but I keep fuckin’ up,” he raked a hand through his hair, “and can’t do shit-all right.”

Levy blinked and couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face.

He was embarrassed.

He’d been trying to help, but everything had gone wrong and nobody knew. He never meant anything wrong by it…it was the exact opposite.

Levy walked over to him and boldly rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Keep trying, Gajeel,” she smiled. “We all make mistakes, and that’s okay.” She gave him a squeeze. “Keep trying, you’ll get it.”

He just stared at her blankly as she headed in the direction of home.

She noticed him walking behind her a little later.

“What’re you doing?” Levy asked, eyebrow raised.

Gajeel looked away form her, scuffing the heels of his boots on the gravel. “It’s late,” he muttered. “’m not lettin’ a girl walk home alone in the dark.”

Levy’s eyes narrowed, “I can take care of myself, Gajeel. I don’t need you to keep an eye on me because I’m a girl.”

“I know ya can, shorty,” he told her, eyes darting up with a weak smile. “I just want to make sure anyway.”

The next day, Mira gave Gajeel a bowl of pure iron bits for breakfast.

It was the purest he’d ever tasted, and one glance in Levy’s direction told him everything he needed to know.

Walking her home. His first step to making things right that hadn’t backfired.

Hopefully everything else would now follow.

anonymous asked:

Okay so I've had this stuck in my head for a really long time and I just need an episode where like Dean and Sam and Cas are working on a case or something and Dean overhears some guy being a huge homophobic asshole and so Dean makes sure to get the guys attention and just kisses Cas right on the mouth

“We need to swing back by that church and check again. The priest has to be connected to something there, right?”

“Yeah, let’s burn the stained glass and see what happens,” Dean responds bitterly. He shoves an entire piece of bacon in his mouth and ignores Cas’ dramatic sigh.

“It’s more likely to be the communion cup or the–”

“I didn’t actually mean that we should burn the glass, Cas.”

Cas angrily squints at Dean, so Dean angrily clenches his jaw back at him.

Sam runs his hand through his hair. “Cas is right. We’ll have to…”

“I don’t want no fag on my fantasy team.”

“…And then regroup back at the motel later tonight. Cas, if you’ll just…”

“What you mean? You see the way he dress? You can’t tell me he ain’t no fruitcake.”

“…OK? Dean? Dean.”

“Hmm?” Dean snaps back to their conversation and reaches across the table for the syrup. “I’m listening.”

Cas’ hand brushes against Dean’s thigh under the booth. Dean bumps his leg against Cas’ and gives him a reassuring smile before turning back toward Sam. “So I spaced out. Whatever. What are we doing?”

As Sam explains the plan once again, the guy with the oppressively thick Southern accent drones on, “I don’t give a flying fuck that he was the MVP, he’s queer as a two-dollar bill.”

Dean digs his fingers into the denim of his jeans, stares down at his plate and inhales his pancakes in order to stop his mouth from saying something idiotic. He comforts himself with the thought that the guy will most likely lose a lot of money with his stupid homo-free fantasy team. 

“Dean? Are you sure you’re alright?” Cas asks quietly as if Sam isn’t sitting directly across the table listening intently.

With a thick swallow, Dean shifts his focus from Cas to Sam and back to Cas. “I’m good, Cas.”

The restaurant is pretty busy, so Dean isn’t sure why he even hears the Southern man so clearly. He’s sitting at least four tables away and has wispy gray hair coming out of the back of a baseball cap that’s seen better days. The man with him is significantly younger even with the bushy mustache and receding hairline. 

“So, Sam and I are hitting up the church and Cas is scoping out Ms. Mathison’s house. Great. Got it. Where’s our check?” Dean rubs his thighs anxiously, searching around the restaurant for an available server to flag down.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Sam asks with those annoyingly concerned eyebrows of his.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.” 

Whether it’s stress or anger or just the unfortunate reality of being Dean Winchester, as they slide out of the booth Dean grabs Cas’ hand and all but drags him toward the door. 

He makes it three angry steps before Cas tries to rip his hand away. It’s only then that Dean remembers that not only does Sam not know that Dean is anything other than perfectly straight, he also doesn’t know that Dean and Cas make out like horny teenagers in nasty motel beds while Sam sleeps like a baby less than three feet away. 

Thanks for the coming out party, homophobic redneck. You’re the real MVP.

Amazingly, Sam doesn’t notice. Right before Sam looks up from his phone, Dean lets go of Cas’ hand and wipes his sweaty palm against his leg. Dean clears his throat and makes eye contact with Cas just long enough to see a stupid smirk on the stupid angel’s face. 

Homophobic redneck leans back in his chair, laughing so hard that he actually claps his hands together. Dean stares at the back of his head, wondering what kind of joke would make such a terrible person laugh that much.

As they pass by his table, the man stops laughing and looks each of them up and down. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest, but he keeps on walking. 

“That’s a mighty pretty haircut you got there, queen.”

Dean spins around so fast that Cas has to stop a hand against his chest to keep him from barreling over the mustached man. Dean’s eyes are so wide they’re watering, but for some insane reason he’s also smiling. 

“You think my brother’s gay, huh? You think his stupid haircut is girly? Oh, hey, speaking of Gurley, I hear he’s gonna have a great year. You should draft him.”

“Dean–” Sam starts.

The scraping of the redneck’s chair cuts him off. He’s much taller than he looked when he was sitting down. “You got a problem, pretty boy?”

Dean’s grin grows wider. “Nope, we’ll just be on our merry gay way.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning away and stomping toward the door.

Cas’ shoulder brushes up against him a moment later. “Eventually you’re gonna have to explain to me what just happened,” he grumbles.

Dean looks over his shoulder to make sure the man is still watching them. He then slides his arm around Cas’ waist and leans forward to kiss him directly on the mouth. 

Dean hardly hears Sam say, “What the hell?” because he’s too busy listening to the sweet, sweet sound of an asshole choking on his food. 

anonymous asked:

can you please do one where You are leaving to college and Luke is helping you settle into your dorm before he leaves back home??? pls❤️

Luke grunted as the force of the door smacked against his curved arm that contained a cardboard box filled with your things. Sheepishly, you uttered an apology over your shoulder as you slid your gym bag off quickly followed by the collection of wire hangers in your arms. His smile was effortlessly lighthearted as he nudged you with his hip on his way to stack the box with the rest of your things on the small desk behind your headboard. 

Dramatically, he flopped backward to your unmade mattress, his broad shoulders knocking against the chipped paint in the wall and his long legs nearly touching your roommates vacant bedposts. His fingers folded across his black clad torso as he glanced up at you under his eyelashes, “M’tired now.”

“There’s no time to be tired,” You insisted with the most forced arch to the edge of your lips. 

You’d told yourself if you did a variety of things that the thought of Luke leaving you alone in your dorm room wouldn’t be as heartbreaking. You’d chattered the entire drive, Luke simply watching and nodding between stop signs with a knowing glint in his eyes. You’d insisted on taking the stairs, insisting that the elevator took entirely too long on your floor (the only time you’d pick more time with Luke over limited exercise.) Now you wanted to unpack for ages, thinking maybe if you talked Luke into tampering with your lamp that maybe it would give enough time for the campus to flood and cancel classes for an entire semester. 

Or forever. Whichever was appropriate.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I've been wanting to pitch an idea for an article to Cracked but I, being shy and anxiety-filled, am terrified to actually post the pitch. Do you have any advice?

Eesh, good luck, buddy!

Shyness is a comforting and useful “tool” for lack of a better word, and my instincts for a long time sided with shyness and caution, and there’s a lot of merit to that. Let’s talk about some things that my shyness, nervousness or anxiety accomplished for me:

They have, without question, resulted in me being comfortable, I won’t pretend that they didn’t. I’d be in class, in college, listening to a bunch of people talk about something that I didn’t agree with and I’d think “Maybe I should interject,” and then I’d remember that I’m probably the only one with my opinion and it wouldn’t help anyone if I rocked the boat, and anyway if all of these people thought the same way they were probably right, so shush, Daniel. And boy, sitting in a classroom quietly will always feel more comfortable than having a bunch of eyes on you when you’re saying something you know a bunch of people won’t like. And that comfort is nice and reassuring. Mmmmm, tasty comfort.

Or I’d see a cute girl reading a book at my coffee shop [or bar or office or The World] and think “Maybe I should introduce myself and find out what she likes,” and then instead I’d ultimately choose to read my own book and, sure, sitting on my own without having to talk to someone new who could potentially hurt my feelings, I didn’t start breathing fast and I didn’t start sweating and I felt very comfortable, so much more comfortable than if I’d tried to stutter my way through an introduction.

Or I’d have an idea for an article and I’d write it up and I’d consider submitting it to a magazine I liked, but then I’d imagine the cold, rejection letter that could potentially follow. And I’d think about how depressed that could make me, how embarrassed I’d feel, how maybe the rejection would sting so hard that I’d quit writing altogether. And then I’d decide “Nah, this is another one just for ME. Not going to submit it.” And, PHEW, what a sigh of relief! It’s legitimately comforting and wonderful.

But I should be clear right now, I don’t actually remember any of those things. I don’t remember sitting quietly in class. And I don’t remember not approaching the cute girl at the [insert place], and I can’t remember the names of any of the magazines I didn’t submit to. Which isn’t to say that those things didn’t happen; I’m positive that they did. I’m sure that they happened a bunch of times, I just don’t remember them with any clarity.

I can’t remember specific examples where I bit my tongue in class, but I remember how amazing/terrifying it felt to be the first one in a room saying “Wait, let’s rethink this,” and people listened.

I don’t remember every interesting woman I didn’t talk to, but I remember the smile of every single one that I was (temporarily) brave enough to try to make laugh.

I was too nervous to submit probably 200 articles or short stories or one-act-plays to websites, magazines and contests. I don’t remember any of those pieces of content (or the names of any of the sites, magazines or contest). What I DO remember, with eternal specificity, is the first article I had submitted, completely cold, to Cracked. The rough draft was written in red pen in one of those College Ruled notebooks. I wrote it when I should have been paying attention in Astronomy, a Summer Semester class I was taking my junior year of college. I typed it up when I went home that night and submitted it. The minute it was accepted by then-editor Jay Pinkerton, I told my big brothers, and then I took out my friends Joe and Jaclyn for a late night snack of cream-of-turkey soup at our favorite piece-of-shit diner to tell them the good news, and then a few days later I told my Mom because she seemed bummed that day and I thought it might cheer her up (I originally planned to keep my Cracked writing a secret from her, because there were curse-words in it and I didn’t want to upset/embarrass her. For the record, when I DID tell her I’d sold my first article, her response was “I’m sure they’ll buy more and more articles and then just hire you full-time,” and then of course that happened, because Moms know more than us).

It may not have been comfortable, but I sure do remember it, and other moments like it. In fact, before falling asleep at night, I have never comforted myself with idle thoughts of the chances I didn’t take. Even when things DON’T work out, it’s more fun to relive the chances you took than it is to dwell on the ones you didn’t.

Anytime you do something like that, something that scares you or makes you breathe fast, you’re going to feel uncomfortable. But, I don’t know. Do you think you were put on this big, silly Earth to sit around being comfortable?

anonymous asked:

I've very recently fallen straight into the arms of the Jonsa ship and I've fallen hard. How about a one-shot of our babies' first kiss to satisfy my aching soul? (ESPECIALLY AFTER THAT FINALE) thank you! <3

AN: I’m very aware this is probably not what you were looking for, so I’m sorry about that. This is actually quite dark, but it IS about their first kiss. This has been sitting in my drafts so long I had to get it out. CW: Half-sibling incest (or they definitely think it is.) Yep, I ship them all the ways. 

Jon’s lips are hesitant - they tremble, millimetres from her own. Sansa would close the gap herself, but he’s a deer caught in the hairs of a crossbow, and he’s frightened. So she doesn’t. Her palms itch, trapped at her sides. 

‘Jon,’ she starts to say, barely a whisper, but it’s the wrong thing to do. Jon lurches backwards, away from her, his face twisted with shame, but Sansa knows there’s desire in there too.

He chokes. ‘Sansa, I-’

The space between them is a chasm Sansa’s scared they’ll never be able to close. She stays mute, watching Jon struggle with himself, wishing he’d give in, just this once.

But then, she thinks, he wouldn’t be the man she loved if he were the type to cave easily. 

Keep reading

➸ hair stylist/make up artist and actor/model AU

Clint sighed, the brush twirling carelessly between his fingers. Most of the time he liked his job, he really did. Being the makeup artist on sets of actors and models, making them gorgeous enough to be worshiped, flirting casually with some of the biggest names in society, definitely had its perks.

Today, though… Today was the special kind of hell that made him question if the others had been a hallucination. He’d been hired out for a men’s fashion magazine shoot. Men were even more particular about their makeup, because unlike women who were going for a certain look or effect, men wanted all the benefits of makeup without actually looking like they were wearing any at all. Today there had been a steady stream of haughty men who had either not spoken a word to him, or done so only to tell him what a terrible job he was doing.

And the very last model he was supposed to work on before he could get paid, pack up, and go home, was late.

Of course.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you think Inuyasha deserved Kagome ?

Ok first of all, I’m really sorry for forgetting this message in my inbox for months …woops… I don’t remember what prompted this ask BUT I’m finally motivated to tackle this subject because it’s something that I really wanted to talk about!

By your question I’m guessing there’s two things you’re asking: 
1- Would Kagome be happier if she was with someone else? 
2- Is Inuyasha “not a good boyfriend” to Kagome?

So I’m going to start with the whole ‘’other guys would make her happier’’ thing, because it’s something that I hear a lot coming from people who ship her with someone else (like Koga or Hojo), because any these guys would “treat like a princess’’….  Personally I think that’s just… not a good way to look at a romantic relationship? I really don’t think that if your romantic partner is not showering you with compliments, then they not being ‘’good’’ to you? Everyone has different preferences, some people really need affection but for others it can be too overwhelming..

In Kagome’s case, we know that a lot of guys like her, but no matter what they did for her, she just wasn’t interested. I don’t think Kagome is playing hard to get or anything, but sometimes when the guy is already all over you, it’s not really fun, you know? 

It’s interesting to note that the first thing she says about Koga is that he’s ‘’not her type’’. So what is Kagome type exactly ? First, I believe that inside of her, she longed for a relationship with a person that would challenge her. It’s always a good thing to have someone who helps you balance out your flaws and work towards self-confidence by challenging your self-esteem. Also, since Kagome is a selfless girl who likes to give more she than receives, it’s pretty clear that she wants to be with a person who will need her. Someone who will crave her attention and her help. And surprise, Inuyasha is just that kind of guy!   

What is the first moment she started seeing Inuyasha as more than a friend? The moment he told her that he needed her by her side. That when she’s with him, he feels stronger. which is a very romantic thing to say btw??

Anyway, what baffles me the most about this whole ‘’Kagome deserve someone who would treat her better’’ thing, is that on many occasions, Inuyasha was very gentle and sweet with her and guess what happened ??

and also………..

Which brings me to my next point… I can admit that Inuyasha isn’t always the most pleasant guy to be around, but he only has a hard shell! Once Kagome saw what was inside, she saw that he really has a good heart. Anyway, she knows a bit about his life story and she understands that his attitude is a defense mechanism after years of being shunned by society and being treated like an outcast. 

Inuyasha might be grumpy, but he’s a ‘’cute’’ kind of grumpy, and Kagome likes it ! He’s never really angry at her and he was never really abusive with her. Inuyasha is all barks and no bite. I’m not saying it really makes sense that Kagome likes him when he’s angry, but Inuyasha is probably a lot more interesting than a lot of guys she met in the past. 

Anyway, it’s not like Inuyasha never did anything for her? He’s constantly putting himself at risk and enduring all sorts of pain to make sure she’s safe, he’s always screaming her name when he’s worried about her, he basically acts as if his life would be incomplete without her…. If THAT doesn’t make a girl feel wanted, then I don’t know what does!

It still makes me upset when I hear the arguments that “she’s only his second choice, Kikyo will always be first” or “he’s not telling her enough details about what is going on between him and Kikyo”… I just want to sigh, to be honest. Inuyasha was always honest with her. He always made it clear to both Kagome and Kikyo what his intentions were and he ALWAYS tried to do what’s best for her even if this whole situation with Kikyo was a mess. I mean, by the end of the series he even decides by himself to talk with her about this serious subject and he apologizes to her for hurting her because it was NEVER his intention. He will always try to protect her, both physically and emotionally. He’s even willing to let her go if that means she’s happy and safe in her home world.

So yeah, Inuyasha is not very romantic and open about his feelings, but does that really makes him “undeserving” of Kagome’s love? Not at all. 

tl:dr: The person who ‘’deserves’’ to be with Kagome is the person who makes her happy and the person she wants to be with.

- Leon - 

Scenario: The little boy and the God of Leo’s little girl. 


Leon sighed as he read the small note attached at the fridge, recognizing the handwriting too well as it belonged to his wife. His eyes scanned the note again, as if etching every word to his memory:

I’m going to be on a later shift today so I won’t be able to pick up our daughter.
I’m really sorry. I know tomorrow is supposed to be your turn but I am put in charge of an event at the last minute. I’ll make it up to you, okay?


P/S: Also, don’t do anything too drastic this time.’

The God of Leo raised an eyebrow incredulously at the last words, then scoffed and threw the small note in mid-air, snapping his fingers to make it disappear as he discard it away. He hasn’t recalled the times he has been 'drastic’ when he have his turns in picking up their daughter from school. Aside from judging humans poorly on a regular basis, anyway.

Of course, in amidst the ugliest things and amongst the ugly 'goldfishes’, the only two of the most beautiful human beings closest to him is his wife and daughter. Or well, to be precise, she’s a half-god but still an underlying fact that she has most of his marvelous charms.

A promise is still a promise. And he doesn’t really consider this a favor in the first place. He would be all the more delighted to pick up his daughter, and perhaps even be the envy of many men because let’s just say he stood out as the most handsome and bad-ass father to a wonderful and adorable girl.

Looking at the time, he counted several minutes before the students will be dismissed from school. Well, obviously, what god wouldn’t think of the most convenient way to get there without a moment’s hassle?

And so, he snapped his fingers.


Leon teleported just a few minutes before the bell rang. Parents were already swaming around in wait, some of them had rushed all the way from work to pick up their kids, some already have pre-packed lunch with them.

Children were already running out from their classes, hustling and nearly tumbling with their backpacks. This time, he put aside most of his ill judgment of the human race and focus on waiting for the sight he longed to see.

And then, there she was.

His little seven-year-old beloved locked eyes with him, realizing that it was her father this time who had been waiting to pick her up, her face lit up with joy as she pushed her little feet to run faster towards him.


Leon chuckled softly, her cheerful voice flow into his ears like a sweet carol. He knelt down, and with arms spread wide, the God of Leon embraced his little girl endearingly.

“What’s the hurry, my girl? It’s not like I would run away and leave you behind,” Leon said teasingly, smirking as he gently ruffled her hair as the girl giggled, “How dare you make Papa worry like that.” He teasingly chided her.

The girl knew her father wasn’t being stern with her from the tone of his voice as she kept giggling, “Hehehe but when I saw Papa, I just have to run. I’m so happy you’re here!”

Leon smiled, helping her to hoist her bag with one shoulder and carry her up with one arm, “You’re becoming like your mother. Thinking you can just make me happy by saying cute things.”

“You are smilinggg, Papaa!” His daughter teased, poking at his cheek.

“Hush,” Leon jokingly chided again, walking away from the crowd.


Leon stopped in his tracks when he sensed the presence of a small boy, concentrating his direction towards them as he ran towards the pair of father and daughter - panting hard, red face as he try to catch his breath. The boy must be about the same age as his little girl. For a moment, he really thought if he had walked away with his daughter, he wondered how long would he need to chase them, but thankfully he didn’t think of teleporting on the spot because he was very close to snap his fingers for the deed.

Leon raised an eyebrow, though with a mildly icy stare, especially when it seemed like the boy was calling out to his little girl.

His daughter’s face lit up with surprise, recognizing the boy who is still catching his breath, “Ah! Tio-chan!”

Now both of Leon’s eyebrows raised. “Tio…-chan?”

…Lord. Did she just call a boy with a term of endearment? In front of her father?

The boy gulped and prepare himself to speak again. But this time, when he noticed Leon’s intimidating and strong icy glare, he gulped again. However, the young boy bowed deeply.

“A-Ah I’m sorry, Mister!! I’m uhm…I’m…”

Leon scoffed, “What is it? Now you lost your tongue, boy? What a simple goldfish–Ow!”

“Papa! Don’t be mean! He’s my classmate.” His little girl scolded him. Yes, him, the God of Leo, and yes him, her father.

When Leon turn to her, taken aback that she has such the courage to scold him like that and even pulled at his ear gently, he realizes once again she is indeed his child - it was like looking at a cute resemblance to himself.

Leon sighed, then look down at the boy again, “Speak. What is it?”

The boy swallowed hard again, but push through his courage and lifted his arm, a small lion mascot keychain dangling between his fingers. When the little girl saw this, her eyes sparkled.

“My LeoPeo keychain!! The one that Papa bought for me at the festival!!”

She reached her arms out, flailing and excited to receive it. Leon watch the two, had a moment of trying to inwardly stay calm but he only let out another sigh, his expression gentle as he knelt down and lower his little girl on the ground. The girl went to the boy and took the keychain from him, her eyes still sparkling as though she had found her precious treasure again.

The boy blushed, then nervously explain, “Y-You dropped this when we were having recess, I think. You look really upset when you were looking for something but can’t find it. So uhm…I…I thought I should give this to you now…”

Leon raised his eyebrow inquisitively, “You could have given it to her before.”

The boy grew more nervous, as though being interrogated so seriously under such a fierce-looking dignified man, “I-I’m sorry! It’s just I-I didn’t know how because there were so many people with her. I…”

“Thank you!! I’ve been looking for this! It’s a present from Papa and I was really sad when I thought I lost it!” Before the boy could finish explaining [and had the trouble to explain further anyway], Leon’s little girl interrupted him by looking at him with a giant grin, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

Leon was quick to react to surprise, but not enough for his body language to show. The last time he had seen such expression from his little girl was when he snapped his finger and gave her a box of lion-shaped cookies, and that was only two days ago.

The boy smiled shyly, “Uh…S-Sure! I-I don’t want to see you sad. I-It’s a really cute keychain…”

Leon frowned. Oh please, he knows that look just from a glance, he likes her. HIS little angel.

….Well, he did make her happy. Not bad for a small goldfish child – boy.

Leon cleared his throat, then later gently took his daughter’s hand, and then look at the boy with a dignified smile, “Well, as the father, I express gratitude for returning her precious keychain.”

After they both bid farewell, Leon and his girl walk away hand-in-hand. He would’ve just teleported them both right back to the house but then she had been asking if they could get ice-cream at a shop just blocks away so Leon thought it would be harmless to just….not teleport back home.

“He’s a nice young boy, I see.” Leon finally said.

His little girl giggled, looking up at her father, “Papa, you nearly scared him. Like a real lion.”

Leon scoffed, “Well, that’s a good thing. However, I will praise him for he has the courage to talk to you. A long way to go when he grows up to be a goldfish–”

“Papa.” His girl pouted.

Leon sighed, “A man. I mean, a decent man." 

The only people who could ever tell him off and reprimand him for his haughty personality sometimes are only two most important people in his life: His wife and his child. 


;A; Why was it SO HAAARDD to think of a good scenario for a Papa Leo *cryingg* I had another idea but then it became a bit too serious and kinda long, so I wanted something else. This was already in the draft and for some reason I just thought instead of wracking my brain for days for fitting new idea for Leon, I’ll just go with this one. 

I imagine his kid being the type to get to his soft spots even more XD so I was also thinking like ‘Oh why not a daughter who makes Leon feel like a giant softie Lion pffft’ 


I wanna do a Papa Scorpy next since the last one is not really a properly-written fic but more like just an ‘impromptu text post’ kind of thing. 


E-Enjoy? XD;;

for xhikaritsunadaex, who asked for something based around the song “What If I Was Nothing” by All That Remains. Hope you like it! 

I know you’re scared 
and that you’re thinking I may go
I’m not leaving, I’m not leaving

What if I was nothing? 
What if this is true?
What if I was nothing, nothing without you?

I told you that I love you
I’m nothing without you

Killian feels like it should not be an issue to tell Emma that he loves her, they both know as well as the entire town that their love is true. Even so, the first time he lets himself utter the words, he swears she’s asleep. 

Her naked body is spayed out beside him, her hand resting just above his heart. He’s playing with her hair, twirling strands around his finger. Her breathing is even, fanning out across his collarbone. 

“I love you,” he whispers into the quiet of the room, and her breath hitches. Her body gets still, too still for her to be asleep. 

He just pretends not to notice.

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