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harrywavycurly · 3 days ago

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Guest Reader: A Southern Comfort Extra

Masterlist: Here

TW: None

Tag List: @wedontknowherorhimorthem @blckburd @daphnesutton @fangirl509east @styleswithaseaview @stylesfever @youngpastafanmug @hannah9921

A/N: Harry is a guest reader for your preschool class and he gets to see a side of you that he’s never seen before, enjoy pure fluff and some nervous Harry✨

Harry wants to laugh at himself for how he’s currently pacing the hallway in front of your room and fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. He has performed for thousands of people screaming his name and while it’s made him have some jitters and nerves it’s nothing compared to the nervousness he’s feeling right now knowing any minute he’ll be asked to enter your classroom and read in front of nearly thirty little kids. He’s simply reading a book to a group of four year olds, that’s what he keeps trying to tell himself but he knows it’s different because this isn’t just some classroom he’ll be walking into, it’s yours. He wants to make a good impression and not embarrass himself because honestly most of his relationship with you has been little moments of Harry embarrassing himself and he’d at least like for this moment to go smoothly.

“Mr. Styles?” Harry turns around at the sound of your assistant teacher, Heather calling his name. “We are almost ready for you.” The smile she gives him makes him sort of begin to relax but he knows nothing will really do the trick until he sees you. He just nods and takes a step towards the door and it’s as if she can sense his nerves as he takes a little look through the small window on the door, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse of you. “She’s getting them situated on the carpet right now but if you’d like you can go in but just stand to the side until she introduces you.” Harry looks unsure as Heather just quietly opens the door for him, she gives him a reassuring nod before he takes a step inside making her smile as she follows behind him making sure the door doesn’t make any noise as it closes.

“Okay friends I need y’all to make sure those listening ears are on.” Harry feels himself instantly relax as soon as he hears your voice, he notices the tone you use with the kids is similar to the one you use with him when you’re teaching him something new in the kitchen or about a southern thing he has no clue about. “Tyler are yours on? Let’s double check.” You say with a smile at the little boy sitting right in front of you on the carpet, he reaches up and tugs on his ears and then nods making you grin. “Perfect okay-oh now Hannah honey are your ears on? They are? Well good thing all my friends have their listening ears on because guess what time it is.” Harry smiles as the kids all shout “story time” at you at various times making you laugh causing your leaf shaped earrings to sway a bit as they dangle from your ears.

Harry takes a moment to look around your classroom because the last time he was in it the walls were empty and it only had a desk and some chairs. He can’t help but feel a sense of calm begin to wash over him as he notices all the little touches that are just so you, like the cowboy hats that say all the different colors by the giant white board, the list of classroom rules but the word rules is crossed out and replaced with the word manners by the door that’s written in your beautiful handwriting, but the biggest thing is just how bright and colorful everything is because he knows how much you hate passing up an opportunity to use bright and fun colors so of course your classroom would be no different. When he’s done looking over your classroom he glances back over to the carpet so he can get a better look at you, as if he didn’t sit on the edge of the bed and watch you get ready for work this morning.

He just can’t get over how adorable you look as you stand in the middle of the kids in your flowy skirt, opting for one that reminded you of falling leaves so you’d be sticking with the month’s theme of “falling into autumn” with its random splatters of brown orange and yellow, that has your t shirt with the school’s name tucked into it while your hair is in a high pony allowing your earrings to be seen. He can tell by the way the kids look at you with little grins on their faces that they also adore you, that you’re probably one of their favorite people and Harry knows it’s true because of all the little pieces of art work you come home with each day, it’s a constant rotation on who’s work gets a spot on the fridge.

He’s glad he’s getting to see you in your element like this, because it’s obvious to him as he watches you lean down and help a little girl with her shoe that you love what you do. It makes him wish he could come and watch you work everyday but he knows you’d never allow it even if he did offer to read to the kids or help you grade their little worksheets. He feels his cheeks get warm when you look over and catch him staring at you, not that it’s anything you’re not already used to but still Harry always turns into a blushing mess when you catch him blatantly staring. You give him a warm smile that he returns as you clap your hands three times instantly making the kids clap three times right back.

“Very good.” You praise the group of kids making them look at you with excited smiles. “Now today we have a very special guest for story time so I’m gonna need y’all to say hello to my friend Mr. Styles.” You look over at Harry and motion for him to come over to where you’re standing in front of the kids on the carpet.

“Hi Mr. Styles!” Harry smiles as the class shouts hello at him while he stands next to you and it takes everything in him not to wrap an arm around you or at least grab your hand.

“Hello everyone.” He greets the kids with a wave and you just smile as you place a hand on his arm as you take a step so you’re slightly behind him.

“Go on sugar tell them a little about yourself.” You whisper so only he can hear as you give his arm a little squeeze.

“Uh I’m Mr. Styles but you can call me Harry.” You bite your bottom lip so your giggle can’t escape as Harry tries to fight his nerves as he looks at the group of kids sitting patiently in front of him with big eyes and sweet smiles. “I am a musician and uhm I play a few instruments and sing but I also am in a band called uh One Direction-”

“My mommy loves you.” Harry just laughs and nods at the sudden outburst from a little girl while you take a step so you are once again standing next to him.

“Gracie honey we don’t interrupt when someone’s talking okay? Save your comments till the end when he’s done reading.” You gently correct the little red headed girl sitting in the back row who has her hand raised but just didn’t wait to be called on before she blurted out what she wanted to say.

“Well Gracie tell your mommy I said hello will you? But uh yeah I am very excited to be reading to you today.” Harry turns his head to look at you as if to ask if that’s enough or if he needs to tell these kids anything else about himself but you just smile and turn around to grab the book he would be reading.

“And we are very excited to have you read to us today because the book the class has picked for you to read is Have You Seen my Acorn?” The kids let out mumbled sounds of excitement as you hand the book to Harry before turning and getting the chair for him to sit in. “Now y’all be sure to listen up nice and good to this story because it’s one of my favorites okay?” You tell the class as you place the chair behind Harry who is giving the book a once over and you can see his nerves begin to get the best of him.

“You’ll be fine honey.” You whisper to him as you place a hand on his shoulder so he’ll turn his head to look at you so you can motion for him to sit down in the chair. Harry lets out a deep breath as you look at him with a grin, he gives you a slight nod letting you know he’s ready. You quickly walk off to the side and stand with Heather who has a smile on her face as she watches Harry begin reading the book to the class.

“Who knew four year olds could cause more nerves than a stadium of fans?” She whispers to you making you shrug as you watch Harry finally begin to relax and get comfortable as he turns to the third page of the book.

“Ain’t he cute all nervous though?” You ask with a giggle making Harry’s eyes shoot over to you briefly causing you to just give him a playful wink before he goes back to looking at the page he’s reading from. “I just love him.” You add with a smile as Heather looks at you as you watch your boyfriend read to your class and she can tell in that moment that the two of you have something special because out of all the guest readers you’ve had none of them have ever been as nervous as Harry.

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ylangelegy · 2 days ago

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lvr ♾️ minghao x reader.

“take me out, and take me home. you're my, my, my lover.” # day seven of (the)8 days of minghao.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ headcanons of minghao as your boyfriend.

❥ falling in love. minghao's feelings remind you of a flower blooming. it's a slow, gradual thing. he's not immune to physical attraction, but love for him is something much deeper. he knows better than to take things solely on the surface level. love would only be possible for him with time, with both the sunshine and the rain. when it comes, he's not surprised. he will know that his feelings for you have been blossoming, have been growing, and he is never one to deny himself of pure and simple truths.

❥ confessing. minghao has never been a man of overtly grand gestures. some might see this as a con, but there's also appeal in the way he makes sure things are always clear and uncomplicated. his confession may come in the form of an afternoon in a café, over the pastries he knows you like best— or an evening under the stars, while you two are seated side by side on a park bench. he tells you as it is. i like you. no i think, no maybe. "you don't have to respond or even reciprocate," he will tell you, and he means it. "i just wanted to let you know."

❥ pet names. a part of minghao withers at the like of 'babe' and 'baby'. he's more comfortable with 'darling', if any, because there's a dozen ways he can say it. when he's trying to coax you out of bed. "darling, your five minutes are up." when he's exasperated and you're squabbling. "that's not what i said, darling." when he's struck by the way you look. "look at you, darling; you're the prettiest thing i've seen." (on occasion, minghao will use 'petal' or 'angel'. all soft, reverent names.)

❥ dating (1). dates with minghao are like you'd imagine. he's big on museums, especially the contemporary/modern ones. he enjoys walking around with you aimlessly, reading the descriptions out loud to you, and asking what you think about certain pieces. he's also a fan of nature; you can expect visits to botanical gardens, treks through sun-soaked trails.

❥ dating (2). there's also a part of minghao that revels in shopping dates. it's his not-so guilty pleasure, having the chance to visit strip malls or boutiques with you. he has a keen eye for articles of clothing that suit you the best. it's a little harder for you to help dress him, so you're likely to be on the receiving end of his slight side-eye whenever you pick out something rather questionable. he'll indulge you all the same, but he draws pretty clear lines on what matches his style. "we are not getting that," he half-begs as you insist on what he considers the world's most atrocious jacket. "i love you, but please!"

❥ apology language. fights with minghao may be few and far between, but they still happen. he can be sarcastic and sharp-tongued, after all; honest, but not sentimental. when apologizing to you, he's the type to accept responsibility and make restitution. "i was wrong," he'll start. "what can i do to make things right?" he's able to take ownership of when he screwed up, and he believes in implementing change in making amends. he expects the same energy from you, though, because minghao is not about to be in a relationship where there's no growth.

❥ the little things, a.k.a minghao is... gossip excitedly shared the moment he gets home ("you said i shouldn't tell anyone, but that doesn't count my partner"). outings with his parents, where he glows with pride at the thought of it being a 'double date'. voice messages sent whenever he's away; groggy recordings of "just got to my hotel room. i'll text once i've gotten some sleep. good night… or is it morning there?… ugh, whatever."

❥ love language to receive. despite being a man who received compliments on the daily, minghao will be the first to admit that affirmation hits different when it comes from you. he may not actively seek your validation, but you can see it in a dozen little ways. how he turns to you first when he's trying on a new outfit. how he looks for you in the crowd whenever he's performing. there's a certain tension that eases from his shoulders when you acknowledge him. he will try not to look too pleased about it; you'll find it in the twinkle in his eye, the shine of his smile.

❥ love language to give. minghao is a man who lives and breathes acts of service. you need to do your groceries? he's more than happy to tag along. you can't pick up your laundry? he'll get it for you. minghao makes sure that you always have gas in your tank, that he has pocket versions of your vanity kit in every bag of his. a line from hafiz's it happens all the time in heaven best describes minghao's credo when it comes to loving you: "my dear, how can i be more loving to you? / how can i be more kind?"

#minghao x reader #the8 x reader #xu minghao x reader #minghao fluff #the8 fluff #minghao imagines #the8 imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #➤ ylangelegy: mine #➤ ylangelegy: svt #ylangelegy the8 days of minghao #( suuuuper quick one ahead of tomorrow's monster of a fic !! hehehe )

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fratttymatty · 1 day ago

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A New Type Of Art

(All characters are 18+)

Luke had always been the kind of guy who didn’t fit into a mold, and he liked it that way. He was an artsy, liberal college sophomore who spent more time with his paintbrush than his textbooks, more time discussing philosophy than politics. His long, blonde hair was usually in a messy shoulder-length style, a reflection of his creative, laid-back personality. People often joked that he looked like he’d stepped out of a 90s indie film, and he was fine with that.

He was proud of who he was—gay, unapologetic, and fiercely liberal. His friends in the dorm loved him for his passion, his endless debates on everything from climate change to gender fluidity. He wore the brightest colors he could find, mismatched patterns, and unashamedly displayed his individuality through his clothes. He didn’t care if people stared—he wanted them to. Being different was his art.

Luke was someone who lived openly. He was out, loud, and proud. He believed in change, in equality, in breaking barriers. But then something strange happened that would turn his world upside down.

It started when he wandered into the obscure little gallery downtown. The art was... different. No, it wasn’t just different—it was weird, unsettling even. All the paintings were of men—clean-cut, athletic, stoic figures that seemed too perfect, too polished, as if they were all carved out of the same mold. They stared down from their frames with proud, almost smug expressions.

Luke felt a tug of unease, but his curiosity got the better of him. He walked deeper into the exhibit, looking for something new, something that would spark his imagination. But what he found was something far more unsettling.

The curator, a sharply dressed man with cold eyes, suddenly appeared at his side.

"You’re not from around here, are you?" the man asked, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic.

Luke didn’t know how to answer. “I just came to see the art,” he said, glancing at the paintings again, the faces of the men still haunting him.

The curator smiled faintly. “Art is not just for seeing, my friend. It’s for becoming.”

Before Luke could ask what he meant, the curator’s hand landed on his shoulder. And everything changed.

Luke awoke with a start, his heart racing. The room was unfamiliar. The air smelled different—stale, almost like rubber or plastic. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the sudden dizziness that had overtaken him. His mind was foggy, his thoughts spinning like a broken record.

He glanced around. The walls were bare except for a few sports posters—one of a football team, another of a group of athletes holding up trophies. A large computer sat on a desk, the screen blank but sleek, high-tech. The bed he was lying on was too small, too clean.

Then, something caught his eye—a full-length mirror on the wall. He stumbled over to it, his feet feeling heavier than usual.

The reflection staring back at him was... not Luke.

It was a completely different person. His face—his features—were different. His once soft jawline was now square, his cheekbones high and pronounced. His blonde hair was gone, replaced by a rich, dark brown mane that was tousled perfectly, messy but in a way that looked effortlessly stylish. It was a little wavy, but in a way that made him look... well, hot.

The messiness of his hair gave him a rugged appeal, like he’d just rolled out of bed after a late-night party or a spontaneous game of pick-up basketball. His chest was broad, and his body had more definition—muscles that didn’t exist before now rippled under the tight-fitting T-shirt he wore, and his skin had a deep tan that made his features pop even more.

He reached up to touch his hair, the strands feeling thicker, softer than he remembered. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in how it fell around his face, like he was born to have it that way. As his fingers ran through the tousled locks, he caught the faintest whiff of cologne—something strong, athletic, and masculine.

Something inside him—a feeling that had been buried before—shifted. This was right. He was... supposed to look like this.

And then, as if to confirm it, a sudden wave of memories flashed before his eyes—high school memories. Football games. High fives with his teammates. Laughter with his jock friends. A pretty girl’s smile as she flirted with him in the halls. The vague recollection of endless hours spent playing Call of Duty in his friend’s basement, of sports cars and parties. The memories were his now, and they felt... good.

He glanced back at the mirror again. The face staring back at him was someone completely new—someone named Ethan Clark.

Ethan.

It sounded... right. It felt like the right name for the guy he had become.

Ethan’s first full day in this strange new life was a blur of sensations, conflicting memories, and awkward realizations.

He stood in front of his high school locker, the red-and-black track jacket feeling tight against his shoulders. The hallway buzzed with activity around him—students laughing, chatting, rushing to classes—but his attention kept wandering.

He couldn’t help but notice the girls.

They were all looking at him—some giving him shy smiles, others openly admiring him, especially the ones who whispered to each other and then giggled. Ethan had no idea how to handle it, but something inside him surged at the attention. It was like he wanted it. He liked the way they were looking at him. The way his tousled brown hair framed his face just right, the way it somehow made him look cooler, more attractive.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a locker mirror, and his heart skipped a beat. He looked good—like a guy who played varsity football, who could crush a bench press, who wore his hair just so in a way that drove girls wild. It was different, but it felt natural. Comfortable.

“Hey, Ethan,” one of the girls said as she walked by, her gaze lingering on him for a second too long. “You’re looking extra hot today. What’s the secret?”

Ethan blinked, confused at first. Was she talking to him? She smiled, and he suddenly felt this unfamiliar surge of confidence flood his chest. Without thinking, he ran a hand through his dark hair, giving her a slight smirk.

“Just, uh... woke up this way, I guess,” he said, his voice rougher, deeper than it used to be.

The girl giggled, clearly charmed, and kept walking, throwing him one last glance over her shoulder. Ethan watched her go, a mix of pride and something else stirring inside him. He couldn’t quite place it, but he didn’t need to.

This was who he was now. The guy with the dark, messy hair who turned heads, who was adored by girls, who fit right in with the team, the jocks, and the “normal” crowd. He was straight, athletic, confident—and he had no idea who he was before. The memories of his old life were slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

He walked down the hallway, his steps firm and sure. The world was different now. And for the first time in a long time, he was okay with it. In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

As Ethan settled further into his new identity, he quickly realized he was getting a lot more attention than he ever had before. It wasn’t just the girls; the guys on the football team were treating him like one of their own, giving him high-fives, calling him “bro,” and acting like he was the man.

He loved it. And he made sure everyone around him knew it.

One day, during lunch, he walked into the cafeteria with his new crew—a group of jocks who clearly saw him as the alpha in their little pack. The guys were laughing and slapping each other on the back. Ethan’s loud voice cut through the chatter as he cracked a joke about how the girls were practically throwing themselves at him now that he’d "finally started dressing like a real man." His comment earned a chorus of laughs from the table.

“I swear, bro, these chicks don’t know what to do with themselves,” Ethan said, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his now perfectly tousled hair. “Like, calm down. I’m just a normal guy.”

He smirked as the guys around him laughed, but the joke was all too familiar to him now—this was how they all talked. How the guys had to talk to be part of the crew. The alpha energy. The mocking of others. The jokes about the ‘liberal snowflakes’ and the ‘woke culture.’

“So, bro, what do you think of that chick in your history class? The one with the, like, big eyes?” one of his teammates asked, nudging him.

Ethan’s lip curled. “Pfft, she’s cute, but, like... I’m not really into the whole ‘intellectual’ thing,” he said with a scoff. “Girls should be, you know, fun. And pretty. That’s the only thing that matters. Politics are for losers anyway.”

The guys around him laughed, and a few clapped him on the back.

Ethan’s transformation was complete, or so he thought. Each day that passed, the remnants of his old life—the life of Luke—faded into oblivion. The whispers of art, of activism, of painting vibrant canvases of rebellion and love, all became distant echoes, drowned out by the thumping bass of his new life. The image of his blonde, shaggy hair, the colorful shirts, and the feeling of freedom in being himself—they were all gone now. Ethan Clark, the confident, athletic, and straight high school senior, was who he was meant to be.

And honestly? He couldn’t be happier.

The guy who once hated the idea of conformity, who argued endlessly with anyone who didn’t share his beliefs, had morphed into a version of himself that didn’t question anything.

Girls flocked to him. He flirted effortlessly, his tousled brown hair always falling just right, his posture always leaning casually against the locker with a smug smile that made their knees weak. He could tell that they adored him—hell, everyone adored him. The jocks respected him, and he’d even made it to captain of the track team. He was the star athlete, the alpha in his group, and nothing felt more exhilarating.

The few times when a flash of Luke’s old world would flicker—like when he’d overhear a conversation about climate change or a new art exhibit downtown—he’d feel a weird, nagging sense of discomfort, but it never lasted long. He’d push it aside with a loud joke or by tossing a football to one of his buddies, and the feeling would evaporate.

The most recent instance had come during a heated debate in his government class. A kid who sat in the back—one of those annoying guys with a patchy beard and a mind full of "woke" ideas—had dared to challenge Ethan's casual dismissal of LGBTQ+ issues. Ethan had shrugged it off with the kind of condescension that only someone truly at ease in his masculinity could muster.

“Dude,” Ethan had said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I don’t know what kind of crazy world you’re living in, but we’re not doing that whole ‘gender-fluid’ thing here. I’m straight, I’m proud, and I’m not going to sit here and listen to some liberal lecture about equality. It’s simple: be a man, get a girl, and stop with all this nonsense.”

The guy had opened his mouth to argue, but Ethan had silenced him with a mock chuckle. “Honestly, I don’t have time for this bullshit,” he’d said, and with that, the room had gone quiet.

The looks of approval from his teammates and the laughter from his group had only fuelled Ethan’s growing sense of power. He was right, and everyone else was just wrong.

It was after that incident that the strangest thing happened—one night, alone in his room, Ethan stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his hair for the hundredth time, as he always did. His tousled, perfectly messy brown locks had become his trademark, and he ran his fingers through them with the kind of pride only a high school jock could have. He looked good. He knew he looked good. And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to enjoy the full force of that knowledge.

But then... it hit him.

The reflection wasn’t the problem—it was what was missing.

For a brief, disorienting moment, he could almost see it—the flash of blonde hair, the open, unapologetic expression, the vivid colors in his clothes. The warmth of a smile that wasn’t just for the girls or the boys who wanted to be his friend. It wasn’t just for the applause or the attention—it was a smile that came from being who he was, not from performing for everyone around him.

But the moment passed quickly, replaced by the face in the mirror that he now recognized so well—the face of Ethan Clark, the confident jock, the proud guy who didn’t care about the world of art or politics anymore.

For a second, though, Ethan’s gaze faltered. There was a slight hesitation—a small, uncomfortable ripple in the stream of his new identity.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. The thought felt foreign, even stupid. He smirked at his reflection, his confidence quickly returning.

“Get over it, man,” he told himself, his hand running through his messy hair again, his grip tight as he styled it just right. “This is who you are now. This is who you were meant to be.”

The unsettling sensation lingered, but only for a moment. Ethan stood tall, shoulders squared, and he smiled—genuinely, arrogantly—at the guy in the mirror. He had everything now. He was popular. He was strong. He had girls after him and the guys at his back. And most of all, he didn’t care about anything that didn’t fit into this new version of himself.

The weeks passed, and the echoes of Luke’s old life grew quieter. Ethan’s friendships with the other guys on the football team deepened, and his bond with the girls only grew more intense as they swooned over his rugged good looks and cocky charm. He spent less time reflecting on his past—less time worrying about the strange feeling in his gut that tugged at him when he thought about what he had lost.

One night, at a house party thrown by one of his teammates, Ethan stood with a group of his closest friends, a drink in his hand, and the girls around him laughing at his latest joke. Everything felt perfect. It was what he’d always wanted—what he’d deserved.

One of the girls, a blonde who’d been flirting with him for weeks, pulled him aside, her voice low and sultry. “Ethan, you’re like... so different from other guys,” she whispered, brushing a lock of his messy hair out of his face. “You’re just... amazing.”

He grinned, the compliment going straight to his head. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar rush of confidence flood him. “Well, babe,” he said, his voice smooth, “I’m just a man’s man.”

The girl laughed, leaning in closer, and Ethan kissed her on the lips. He’d become so used to this attention, this life of being the center of everything. It was a feeling he didn’t just enjoy—it was the only feeling that made sense anymore.

But as the night went on, as the alcohol and the party noise blared around him, a thought flickered again in the back of his mind. It was small, almost imperceptible, like a whisper from a distant past he couldn’t quite grasp. A memory of a world where being himself didn’t mean fitting in. A world where being free meant embracing everything that made him who he truly was.

The thought came and went, but this time it was different. It didn’t make him feel scared—it didn’t make him feel sad. It just... faded.

Ethan Clark was who he was. The boy who had been Luke was gone now. Completely gone.

And as Ethan kissed the blonde girl again, he couldn’t help but smile. He was everything he was meant to be.

There was no going back. There was no reason to.

Ethan’s transformation was complete. Every morning, he woke up in his new life, slipping effortlessly into the role of the popular, athletic jock—his tousled brown hair falling perfectly into place as if it had always been this way. His body was strong, chiseled from hours of training, and he was the star of the track team. More than that, he was a leader among the jocks, a natural at commanding attention without trying. He had the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing he had it all, and he knew the girls were obsessed with him.

The girls couldn’t get enough of his athletic frame, his perfectly styled hair, and the cocky, yet irresistible smirk he threw their way. He had a certain swagger now—one that came from both his physique and the newfound belief that he deserved to be admired. Ethan was a magnet for attention, and it felt so good.

But there was something else—something he didn’t always let the jocks see.

Ethan had always been a gamer. Sure, he was now the track team captain, the guy everyone turned to for advice on their bench press, but late at night, after practice, when the house parties were over and everyone had gone home, Ethan logged into his gaming setup.

The gaming chair, the massive monitor, the LED-lit keyboard—it was all tucked away in his bedroom, hidden behind a door that only his closest friends knew about. But even now, as captain of the team, as the guy who’d casually broken the 400-pound squat record and was getting invited to college recruiters' camps, Ethan was still that guy—the gamer who lived for the thrill of the digital battlefield.

He had always been good at it. No, scratch that—he’d always been great at it.

Every night, he dominated the leaderboards in Call of Duty and Fortnite, racking up kills with ease. He had his own Twitch account, but it wasn’t for the fame. It was just for the adrenaline, the rush of hearing the ping of a headshot, the satisfaction of topping the scoreboard with his friends.

There were nights when he played until 3 a.m., still wearing his track hoodie, drinking a monster energy drink, the glow of the screen lighting up his face as he obliterated opponents. He'd be wearing his headset, yelling at his buddies—laughing, trash-talking, keeping it light. No one knew about his online identity, but to Ethan, it was just as important as any track medal or touchdown. It was where he could be himself without the weight of the jock persona, without the expectation of being perfect all the time.

The football field was where Ethan thrived. The air was thick with the sound of cleats pounding the turf, the shouts of coaches pushing their players harder, and the constant rhythmic thumping of the ball hitting the ground. Ethan, naturally, was right at the center of it all, a strong, imposing figure in his football gear, his dark hair peeking out from under his helmet, his chest heaving with every breath.

As the captain of the football team, Ethan had earned the respect of every player on the field. They respected his strength, his unrelenting drive, and his ability to motivate others. He was ruthless in practice, always pushing the team harder, making sure no one slacked off. But despite his hard-nosed approach, he kept a certain arrogance that kept the guys in line. He wasn’t just the captain—he was the guy who set the tone for the team, the one who was feared and admired in equal measure.

Today’s practice was intense—punishing drills designed to improve agility and reaction time. Ethan’s muscles burned with the effort, but he wasn’t about to let up. He was determined to lead his team to victory this season. They had a big game coming up, one that could secure them a championship spot. And Ethan was more than ready.

He finished his sprints with ease, his lungs pushing through the burn, his legs feeling stronger with each stride. The guys were panting behind him, but Ethan didn’t even break a sweat.

“That’s how you run,” he said, smirking as he jogged back to the sidelines, his teammates panting behind him.

“Jesus, Ethan, you never slow down,” one of the defensive linemen, Jake, said between breaths.

Ethan threw him a lazy grin. “That’s because I’m built different, bro. You’re just not on my level yet.”

The guys chuckled, and Ethan felt the familiar swell of pride. He loved it. This was his world now. It felt right. The jocks who had once laughed at him in high school now admired him. The girls who had once ignored him now threw themselves at him. Ethan was the epitome of what every high school athlete dreamed of becoming—the guy who was good at everything, effortlessly cool and untouchable.

But then something caught his eye—a flicker of doubt. It was subtle. One of the guys on the team, Alex, had been showing Ethan something on his phone earlier in the locker room. He’d been talking about the new Star Wars Battlefront game and how he was crushing it with some of his online buddies. Ethan barely registered it at the time.

Now, as he caught his breath, he couldn’t help but think about it. Alex had mentioned a team—a clan that all played together late at night. The more Ethan thought about it, the more he realized that even though he was crushing it on the field, there was something oddly thrilling about those nights alone in his room, the camaraderie of his gaming friends, and the rush of winning in a world that didn’t care about how many touchdowns he scored or how big his biceps were.

His thoughts were interrupted when Coach shouted across the field.

“Clark! Get your head in the game! We’ve got a season to win!”

Ethan snapped back into focus, mentally shaking off the random thought. He was Ethan Clark, football captain, jock, the guy everyone looked up to. That was who he was.

Later that night, after the last of his teammates had left, Ethan headed back to his room, dropping his gear on the bed and collapsing into his gaming chair with a deep sigh. His muscles ached, but the comfort of his familiar setup—the glowing RGB lights, the cool click of his mouse, and the hum of the PC booting up—was like an old friend welcoming him back.

He was back where he belonged.

Ethan fired up Call of Duty, glancing over at his phone to see if any of his friends were online. Sure enough, a notification popped up: “Your Squad is waiting.”

He grinned.

Sliding on his headset, Ethan clicked “Join” and immediately heard the familiar voices of his gaming buddies flood through the speakers.

“Yo, Ethan, we’re about to wreck some noobs. You ready?”

Ethan’s grin widened. “Always, bro.”

As they dove into the game, Ethan’s body relaxed, his muscles still sore from practice, but his mind fully focused on the game ahead. This was where he felt free. This was where he could shut out the expectations of being the perfect athlete, the perfect teammate, the perfect son. Here, on the battlefield of the game, there were no rules about how to act or what to be. It was just him, his friends, and the rush of winning.

The hours slipped by in a blur of headshots and jokes. The adrenaline was just as real as it was on the football field, maybe even more so. Ethan was still the dominant force here. His reflexes were sharp, his aim precise. He dominated every match, and when they won, the rush was the same as it was when they hit the game-winning touchdown.

"Man, you're on fire tonight," one of his buddies, Tyler, said, laughing.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. "Just like always, bro. Who else can carry the squad like I do?"

The guys laughed, and Ethan reveled in the sound of their praise. It felt good. It felt right.

For a moment, as the squad geared up for the next round, he thought back to earlier that day on the football field—the sweat, the cheers, the hard work that had earned him his place as the team captain. Then, without even realizing it, his mind drifted back to his gaming chair, to his gaming world, where everything was just as real.

He wasn’t just Ethan Clark, the football player, the alpha jock. He was Ethan, the gamer, the guy who could lead a team to victory in both worlds—whether on the field or behind a screen. And for the first time in a long while, Ethan felt a sense of balance between these two sides of him. He had it all.

In this life, no one could touch him.

And that was exactly how he liked it.

Ethan's life seemed to revolve around two worlds: the football field and his gaming chair. But then there was Sophia—his girlfriend—who lived somewhere right between them, a perfect accessory to his newfound high school popularity.

Sophia was the blonde girl everyone noticed—the type of girl who was the center of attention at every party, with a laugh that made guys turn their heads and an effortless grace that made other girls a little jealous. She was the kind of girl who belonged on the arm of a guy like Ethan—athletic, handsome, and undeniably cool. And now she was, and she knew it.

The two had started dating a few weeks ago, and it had been a perfect fit. She was beautiful, outgoing, and obsessed with the idea of being with someone like Ethan—someone who could give her all the status and attention she craved.

Ethan wasn’t the kind of guy who spent a lot of time on his emotions, but when Sophia smiled at him, he couldn’t help but feel a certain rush of pride. He'd caught her eye first, but now she was his, and it felt good. There were whispers in the hallways, and every girl who tried to get his attention was met with the same smug, “I’ve got my girl” attitude. It was the kind of confidence that only someone who knew he had everything could pull off.

Sophia didn’t mind the attention. She was used to it, and she loved the way Ethan’s popularity amplified hers. It was a match made in high school heaven.

Later that day, after practice, Ethan found Sophia waiting by his truck, her arms crossed, a playful smirk on her face. He had been walking out with a couple of the guys from the team, talking about the upcoming game, but when he spotted her leaning against the tailgate, all conversation stopped. His friends shot each other knowing looks, and one of them, Alex, made an exaggerated “Ooooh” noise.

Ethan didn’t even acknowledge them. He made his way over to Sophia with that familiar swagger, not caring if anyone was watching.

“What’s up, babe?” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Sophia grinned, her eyes gleaming. “Not much. I was just thinking about how awesome you looked out there today. You were like, on fire.”

Ethan couldn’t help but smirk. “Of course I was. It’s what I do.”

She laughed, the sound high and melodic, and stood up straight. “Well, I’m glad you’re on fire... because I was thinking you could use some company tonight,” she said, teasing him a little as she walked toward the passenger side of his truck.

Ethan raised an eyebrow as he followed her. “What kind of company?”

She shot him a wink as she slid into the seat, settling in with a practiced ease. “Let’s just say I have plans for us—and they don’t involve any football or video games tonight. Just you and me, Ethan.”

Ethan grinned, his chest puffing up with pride. This was the life—the kind of life he’d always imagined. Popularity. Strength. A beautiful girl who loved him.

It was almost too perfect.

As he drove off, his mind wandered briefly, but it wasn’t to his old self—the person he used to be. There was no trace of Luke anymore, no reminder of the boy who’d been scared to even talk to a girl like Sophia. No, this was his world now. He was Ethan, and Sophia was his, and that was all that mattered.

At least, that's what he told himself.

#male tf #male tf story #nerd to jock #smart to dumb #gay to straight #conservative tf #lib to con #gamer tf

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l-artemisia-del-secolo · 4 hours ago

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You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your own ranch, your own daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a thread, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You build yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound. You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit." Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time. You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful. You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

#marvel self insert #marvel #agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #rio vidal x you

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smolzizking · 1 day ago

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! `'what I think mha boys would be like together'` !

Just some of my headcanons of what I think some mha boys would be like in a relationship with reader :3 (might do a girl vers of this) or a part 2 of this one

contains: Izuku x reader, Katsuki x reader, Kirishima x reader, Denki x reader, fluff

Izuku :

Izuku is definitely the one to compliment/ praise you over everything, oh you styled your hair different than usual? “You look so pretty/handsome” or you finally finished that book/game/drawing you’ve been trying to complete “that’s amazing Y/N!”. Mostly uses your first name but he does have some nicknames for you; mostly being shortened versions of your first name along with “My star, lovey, babe”, is anxious to make first moves on anything but if you initiate something (holding hands, a kiss, etc.) he’ll join in when you initiate it; though when he does get the confidence to initiate something it’s mostly holding hands or snaking his arm around your waist lightly grazing your hip. Loves giving you little head kisses, cheek kisses! Makes you little paper dolls of you two for special occasions <3

Katsuki :

He’d definitely not change much when he’s dating you, maybe more softer towards you than the others but other than that Katsuki is still the same ol’ Katsuki. Gets you gifts on special occasions (he knows exactly what you like and dislike cause he’s been sneakily analysing you so he could use it to an advantage) , helps you with choosing outfits, hairstyles etc. tries to sound less harsh when giving you advice but it can be sarcastic at times, only refers to you with your first name with the slight nicknames on cards or gifts but never from his lips, ruffles your hair and plays about with your hair (pleatting it, twirling it around his finger) doesn’t wait for you to initiate anything- will initiate holding hands, kisses, cuddles first, Katsuki will boast about you, he’ll just bring you up in every conversation like “My Y/N done that too though better than you” , “Yeah Y/N knows that too, they knew way before you did extra!” Isn’t one for showing PDA but shows a lot of affection privately in his words “It’s better being just the two of us than a crowd of extras” will not admit but he loves it when he lays on your lap and you play with his hair <3

Kirishima :

Kirishima would defo’s would be glued to your side helping you with anything, holding your hand and somewhat having his hand on you (shoulders, head, waist, nothing too intimate) asks you to join him when he’s working out, sometimes will ask you to even join in, non stop compliments- compliments are literally spilling from his lips he’s just so loving of you he can’t help not to tell you how beautiful/handsome you are. Matching clothes. He would love to wear those matching shirts that have the arrows pointing to left/right saying things like ‘I’m hers/his’ even if your not into that kinda stuff he’d even do things like matching pfp on socials! Kirishima would definitely listen to music with you, even if you both share different taste in music he wouldn’t care as long as he gets to do something with you and learn more about you he’d love it <3

Denki :

I feel if anything he’d just get more funnier when he’s around you, he wants to hear your laugh whenever he does something stupid, loves to play video games with you (if you like them ofc) if not he just likes to have you around him whenever he does play games, will say silly lines like “what’s cooking good looking” and other lines, loves to play with your hair, hold your hand and trace over your bones and veins, Loves to lay on your lap whenever you guys hang out at one another’s dorms. Will ask for your help with anything especially if it’s for tests, loves to talk to you about everything, literally everything there’s times he’ll ask questions that really make you think where it takes you weeks to finally answer and he’s sadly forgotten his question.

Hope you enjoyed this <3 I might do other parts to this one but I’m not sure yet ;-;.. but anyways I’m working on a lil project that might take a bit so I’m posting this just to not seem and inactive for long periods of time ⭐️

#izuku x reader #katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #denki x reader #mha #headcanon #smolz’s posts #part 2?

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malakaie · 20 hours ago

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had some feelings to write out – for/about @tommyend, no pressure at all to respond

I started watching wrestling – specifically, AEW – in late October 2023. It’s been just over a year since I started watching, and I didn’t expect it to consume as much of my brain-space as it has. When I started watching, I didn’t really know who anyone was. I had heard a few names – Randy Orton, CM Punk, Jade Cargill, Roman Reigns – but had no real concept of the landscape I was entering or what it would mean to get invested.

Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming, and there was more I didn’t understand than I did. In those first few weeks, I received one very helpful piece of advice: don’t try to understand everything. Find a wrestler or two whose vibe you like and stick with them – the rest will click into place eventually, or it won’t, and either way is fine.

And so I did. I think it was around the lead-up to Full Gear 2023 that I started really paying attention. There was something about what House of Black was doing that was different from anything else I was seeing. I could understand just enough to recognise talented athletes when I saw them, but I wasn’t quite plugged in enough to the overall wrestling “ecosystem” that that was enough on its own to get my attention. Now that I understand more of what I’m looking at, it’s easier to understand what I’m meant to be impressed by – it’s easier now to have that moment of, holy shit, how did they do that?

But I didn’t understand yet. I’d been watching wrestling for about a month and was still finding my footing. What I saw, and latched onto, in House of Black was a group of four impressive performers that I could tell were in love with the art of what they were doing. Everything was done with intent – the way they entered the ring, the different but cohesive styles with which each member of the House wrestled, the gear they wore, the ever-evolving paint on Malakai’s face, the evolution and growth of Julia’s character.

It was both the moment that I finally, properly understood that professional wrestling was also theatre—and, I think, the moment that I was magnetised. It felt like a faction that was made for me: a band of storytellers who wanted to take my hand and show me what wrestling could be and was and is, and had the creativity and cohesiveness and physical talent to pull it off.

I could breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t lost anymore, desperately trying to catch up to understanding something that everyone around me already seemed to know. I had a guide of some sort, and one that resonated: I’ve been reading since I was 3, writing stories since I was 11, have always been a little “strange,” drawn to creative types and niche hobbies and other people that don’t have many friends. And here was someone who not only felt like me, sounded like me, but was wanted and loved and succeeding. A stranger to me, in the way that performers and public figures always are, but I felt like it was going to be okay. If Malakai could make it—though I didn’t and don’t know him personally, I had no way of knowing if he was ever afraid, or if he doubted himself—then maybe I could, too.

The more I watched and the more I learned, the more true that became. I’ve been depressed and anxious most of my adult life. I have scoliosis that is likely to get worse as I get older, and causes me pain multiple times a week, if not every day. Hearing someone whose work I admired be open about his mental health—especially when sports industries have typically not been kind to people, perhaps especially men, who are vulnerable in that way—and be honest when he’s in pain shook something loose in me that I hadn’t quite realised was stuck and frozen in shame. It’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay that I have days where my brain is trying to consume itself. It’s okay that I’m in pain. Did I get out of bed today? Have I been outside? Have I eaten? Have I done something to be kind to myself—or, failing that, kind to someone else? Have I done something creative today?

I started my “gender journey,” for lack of a better phrase, in 2018. There was a lot, a lot, of messing around with pronouns, labels. I didn’t know what I was, only that “just a girl” didn’t feel quite right anymore. And then I felt like I was lying, because, well—I was fine being a girl when I was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen, so why was it suddenly different at 25? Sometimes I still feel like I’m lying. The generation above me often still holds an image of trans people that requires them to have always been miserable, always been “pretending.” A few months ago my mother suggested it was fine if my idea of being feminine had expanded, but she didn’t really believe I was trans, because I’d never been unhappy as a girl child, and besides that I looked like a “clone” of the small handful of other transmasc and nonbinary people she’s met. I must be a pod person. (Newsflash, mom: This is just what queer people look like, a lot of the time. I cut and dyed my hair and got one singular tattoo. How terrible.)

She didn’t ask me how I feel when people call me she, or her—it makes me feel horribly small and unreal, by now—and in fairness to her, I didn’t quite defend myself either. I cringed and shrunk and asked for time to think about it, when what I wanted to say is yes, I know I haven’t had the history you expect to see from me, but this is who I am, and I’m not telling you that I was never a girl. I’m telling you that girl isn’t the place where I stop.

But I was scared, and I felt cornered, and I didn’t say any of that.

What I did have, though, was an artist and a performer and a storyteller who did things with his expression, his clothing, how he presented himself to the world that was like a lightbulb going on. The confidence of a man who told stories with the way that he looked, and who used feminine symbols to do it. He wasn’t any less masculine—but it was an embracing of both that cemented who he was, and I thought: holy shit. I can do that. Our identities are not the same, and I’m not too keen on speculating about the identities of public figures that I don’t know in any event—but it’s reassuring, motivating even, to be able to regularly see someone comfortably expressing his gender (because, yes, cis presentation is gender expression too) in a way that makes sense to him and incorporates the feminine and resonates through his art without doubt or reservation or compromise. This is who we are. Take it or leave it.

I don’t know what’s coming next for any of us. AEW looks like such a different place—in a good way—from when I started watching, and the world is looking pretty scary these days, but I’m still here. The art that got me interested in wrestling in the first place is still here, and I have my theories—unsubstantiated, so far—about where Malakai and House of Black are taking their story, but regardless of theories I’ve been so fortunate to watch them continue to grow and evolve over the past year. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I know the love for the story and the art is real.

I don’t know you personally, Malakai, and I don’t want to claim to, no matter how many scraps I’ve gathered together from interviews and how much of the backlog of matches I’ve done my best to watch so I can understand where you’ve come from and where you’re going next. But your work and your love for your craft has moved me, and I’m glad I stayed alive when it was hard so I could be around to see it when it mattered.

#malakai black #house of black #<3

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 day ago

Note

To the previous Anon: The press called Queen Camilla "Camilla Parker Bowles" until she became Queen. I've also heard "Sophie Rhys Jones" quite a lot.

Camilla Parker Bowles, Sophie Rhys Jones, Kate Middleton, Meghan Markle... It's not all classism. They just want more clicks. It's annoying, but I don't think it's really a big problem.

Why don’t you give being called by the wrong name a try and see if it’s only just annoying?

Because I’ll tell you this - being a Megan variant means that most people are going to spell my name the way they’re used to spelling it from other Megans in their lives. Starbucks baristas, hair salons, doctor’s offices, restaurant waitlists - every single one spells Megan differently. Doesn’t bother me. They don’t know me from Sam. As long as it looks like a Megan and sounds like a Megan, I don’t care. Just give me what I came in for.

But when the people who know better that are the ones doing it to you? Like your aunts, uncles, and cousins? Your teachers? Your closest friends? Your colleagues? It’s not annoying. It is a big problem. It’s called disrespect.

British press and British media know better. They know how these women should be identified, titled, and styled. It’s not annoying. It is a big problem. It is disrespectful. It is classism.

#brf

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otherone12 · 2 days ago

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HII ITS ME AGAIN !!!! OKAY SOOOO I had this idea right... how about a super fem super cute super "girl next door" reader x basement gee ?? :3 like the whole cheerleader x loser trope !!! I think that'd be like super cute !

Wait, Are You In A Band?!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

HEYYY!! WELCOME BACK!!! Sorry for took too long 😭 Hope u well <3!! Okayokay, I went too literal with the "cheerleader x loser" part, because I thought it was awesome make some "high school" plot, anyways, the fic turned really longer, with fluff and angst... hope u like it! <3 (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

PS: it's 2am in my time zone, so when I'm rested I'll revise the fic better.

Summary: After a late cheer practice, you was walking home, but you herd simomething comming from your neighbor's basement. Was he... singing? Maybe he wasn't just the weirdo kid at your school.

- Word Count: 6.400

- Warnings: None :)

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV (reader)

Here I am, making my way to my home after hours practicing the next cheer performance. Exhausted and with my ponytail, I was almost at home, but something caught my attention, a loud song coming from one of the houses in my neighborhood. The sound wasn’t clear, but I followed it, letting go of how tired I was, walking to the house I thought the sound was coming. Surprisingly, I knew whose house was.

I knew that Gerard was my classmate since ever, he wasn’t much of a talking guy, nor did his style match with the rest of the people around here. I'm not gonna lie here, I always had a bit of curiosity about him. Not too long ago, I found out he lives three houses away from mine. Part of me wanted to ‘casually’ knock there to say ‘hi’.

At first I didn't recognize the voice, but when I approached his house I was sure that it was definitely his voice. Enchanted by the sound, I stepped the closest I could, paying attention to the song. Wasn’t just Gerard singing what seems to be an authorial song, but there's a bass, at least two guitars and drums.

Wasn’t perfect but it sounded incredible in my ears. Hypnotized by the song, I stayed there to the end of it… damn it was really good. Before I could even think, I started to hear some voices that I didn't recognize, except for Gerard’s.

- Yeah, let’s run through it one more time, - He said

- Sure! Maybe we can try the second solo we talked about. - Another voice replied

- Okay Okay, I'm gonna drink something before…

Realizing they’d catch me if I stayed any longer, I hurried back home, my mind still replaying every sound I’d just heard. I was so exhausted that I practically collapsed onto my bed, but even as I drifted off, his voice echoed in my mind.

The next morning, I couldn’t stop humming a part of the song I’d heard. It was catchy, and I kept thinking about how much I wanted to tell Gerard how incredible they sounded.

When lunchtime rolled around, I did what I normally did: sat with the other girls on the cheerleading team, surrounded by the usual crowd of football players. But today felt different. I kept glancing over to where Gerard always sat alone in the corner. His brother went to a different school, and he didn’t really have a group here. I wanted to change that, at least for a moment.

- Hey, where are you going? - one of my friends asked, confused as I got up.

- Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,- I replied, giving her a quick smile before making my way toward Gerard.

He was sitting on the floor, with his lunch next to him, while he flipped through a comic book, completely distracted. I stopped in front of him, and as soon as he noticed me, his gaze went up to my face.

- Hi! Can i sit? - I asked, hoping I didn’t startle him too much.

He took a few seconds to answer, his cheeks turned light red, and he avoided eye contact.

- Uh… s-sure - His tone was shy, but i could feel that he was a bit happy - but your uniform-

- I don't mind. - Smiling, I sat next to him, then explained. - I'll change into normal clothes after lunch anyway.

- If you say so… - a shy smile appeared on his face.

- So… Hey, I heard you singing last night.. - When these words left my mouth, what was a light blush turned into a bright red tone on his face. And his eyes wide -. I didn’t know you were in a band.

- Y-you heard?! - he exclaimed, shock evident in his expression, his eyes met mine.

- Yeah I was walking home and… well we’re neighbors… so… - I tried to explain, with a soft smile, trying not not to scare him off or something.

- Can you please not make fun of this? - He sighed, anguished - Like, yeah, sure, call me weirdo, ask for me to do your homework or else but… can you not mention this?

- Why should I make fun of it?! - Not gonna lie, i feel a bit sad for him thinking of me like this, but i almost yelled - You guys are fucking awesome!

- R-really? Do you think so? - He calmed down, but a bit suspicious - I didn’t know you were into this kind of music…

- I totally am! Do you guys perform anywhere? - I leaned closer, excitement bubbling up. - I would love to see a full show!

- Not yet… - Nervous, he stopped to think - But if you want, you can come over to my house to, y’know, watch us practice… we're going to rehearse tomorrow... if you want to stop by after your practice...

- I would love to! - My smile widened, feeling a rush of anticipation.

After our conversation, I felt a rush of excitement as I got up to head back to my friends. I cast one last glance at Gerard, who was now fiddling nervously with his comic book, his cheeks still slightly pink, but there was a smile in the corner of his lips.

As I approached the table where the cheer squad sat, they looked up, curiosity evident in their expressions.

- Hey, where were you? - my friend asked, raising an eyebrow. - Why were you talking to him?

There was a playful tone in her voice, as if she was implying that I was flirting with him.

- Yeah, what’s his name again? Gerald? - another friend chimed in, a hint of amusement in her tone. - He’s a bit weird, don’t you think?

I hesitated for a moment, considering how to respond. I didn’t want to let on that I had been intrigued by Gerard’s singing. My friends wouldn’t understand, not now, they’d just tease me about it.

- Oh, we were just discussing a class project,- I said, trying to sound casual. - You know how the teachers are always assigning those weird group projects? He has some great ideas.

They exchanged skeptical looks, and I could see they weren’t completely convinced.

- A class project? Really? - She smirked. - You’re not trying to tell me you’ve developed a sudden interest in the ‘weird kid’?

- Come on, he’s just a classmate, - I said, shrugging it off, a smile plastered on my face. - It’s not a big deal.

But inside, I felt a spark of excitement that I couldn’t quite hide. I had made a connection, and even if my friends didn’t get it, I knew I wanted to see Gerard again, especially to hear him sing.

- Yeah, sure. - She said mockingly, getting up - Let’s change our clothes and go back to class.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Gerard’s shy smile and the way his eyes had lit up when I told him he was amazing. That spark of excitement kept me awake longer than I’d like to admit, and by morning, I already had a plan.

The next day , I casually told the girls that I needed to leave school a bit early. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I noticed their expressions shift, mischievous smirks spreading across their faces.

- Oh, leaving early, huh? - She raised an eyebrow, leaning in. - I bet you have a date with your ‘class partner’... I mean, classmates.

- Really funny. - I rolled my eyes - It’s just… homework.

- Sure, I totally believe in it… - She mocked and I blushed - You know, if you’re into him, you can tell us! We won’t judge... much.

I laughed awkwardly, hoping no one noticed.

- C’mon I'm serious, and I gotta go. - I started to pack my things - don’t want to be late.

- Alright, fine. Go hang out with your little ‘project partner.’- Another of my friends said, laughing - Just don’t come back quoting comic books or whatever he’s into.

- See you guys tomorrow. - With a chuckle, I leave the court.

I made my way to Gerard’s house, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Part of me was still amazed that I was doing this, showing up at the "weird kid’s" house after practically lying to my friends about it. But I couldn’t help it; I was curious, and I wanted to see him in his basement. I knocked on the door and waited, glancing around at the worn porch steps.

The door creaked open, and Gerard stood there, his eyes widening in surprise.

- Oh, hey… you actually came!

- Of course I did,- I replied, giving him a warm smile. - I didn’t say I would if I didn’t mean it.

- Uh, C-cool - His gaze on the floor, and he seems to be nervous - Come on in, then.

As I walked into the house, I heard a voice call out from down the hallway.

- Oh, my big brother brought his cheerleader girlfriend home! - Mikey’s head popped out from around the corner, a teasing grin on his face.

- Mikey, shut up! - Gerard’s face turned bright red, and he stammered, clearly embarrassed. - She’s not- w-we’re not-

- I’m just a fan - I said with a grin, hoping it’d take the pressure off him.

- Yeah, sure. Just a fan.- He raised an eyebrow at Gerard. - Well, the others are already in the basement. I’ll grab my bass and be right down.

I followed Gerard through the house, catching a glimpse of various band posters and comic books strewn around. He opened a door leading down into the basement, where I could already hear faint sounds of tuning guitars.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted Ray and Frank, both of whom looked up in surprise when they saw me. Ray nudged Frank, and they exchanged a smirk.

- Well, well, looks like Gerard brought his cheerleader girlfriend to watch us practice,- Frank teased, waggling his eyebrows.

- Guys, come on… - Gerard groaned, his cheeks going red again. - She’s just here to watch. For the music… y’know…

- Yep, totally for the music! - I chuckled, trying to ease him - You guys were awesome the other night!

- Oh, she’s a fan - Frank said, giving me a wink. - So, we’ve got an audience now. Let’s make it worth it!

- Guess we can’t let Gerard’s cheerleader down. - Ray laughed while tuning the guitar.

Gerard shot them both a glare, but I could see he was smiling a little. We all settled in, and as the band began to play, I couldn’t help but feel like I was exactly where I was meant to be, watching Gerard and his friends create something that felt raw, real, and amazing.

As the guys settled into their instruments, I found myself a spot on an old armchair near the back of the basement. Gerard shot me a quick, nervous glance, as if making sure I was still okay with being there. I gave him an encouraging nod, hoping to ease some of his nerves.

As they played, I was really loving the music and the way each of them put their passion into the song. The lyrics were intense and Gerard's voice was mesmerizing. As the music played, my gaze wandered around the basement, looking at the absurd amount of comic books and CDs that filled several shelves (and the floor), as well as the posters on the walls. But soon my gaze turned to Gerard, and remained analyzing every detail of his performance.

all the mannerisms, the wrinkled sweatshirt, the slightly smudged eyeliner along with the dark circles, the pink lips and the long, messy hair. When the music ended, it took me a few seconds to regain my attention, which only came out of this trance when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

Suddenly, his voice broke through my thoughts.

- So… what did you think? - he asked, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes wide and hopeful. There was this nervous little shine in them that made my heart skip.

- It was amazing! - I said, grinning as I stood up, clapping a little too enthusiastically.

- Really? - He blinked, clearly surprised, and a tiny, bashful smirk crept up at the corner of his mouth.

- Yeah! - I stepped closer, feeling the excitement bubble up. - You guys are actually really good!

- Thanks! - Frank said, giving me a grin. - You should come every time we play!

- You think so? - I asked, hesitating a bit, not wanting to seem like I was intruding.

- Totally! - Mikey jumped in. - You’re a fan, right?

- Definitely! - I laughed, though I worried about my busy schedule. - I can’t promise every time, but I’ll come as much as I can.

Gerard’s face brightened, and for a moment, he looked at me with this big, relieved smile.

- I’d love that-I mean, we’d love that. I mean, it’d be cool to, uh, have you as, like, a regular… fan… - His voice trailed off, and I watched his cheeks turn pink as he realized what he’d said.

He fumbled with his words, his hands fidgeting as he tried to recover.

- I mean, just, it’s cool when you’re around, you know? Not just, like, ‘cause you’re… - He glanced down, clearly searching for words that just weren’t coming. - …It’s just… you’re really supportive, and that’s nice.

I couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was when he got flustered. It was like he didn’t know how to handle a simple compliment, and the more he tried, the more tangled up he got.

Ray chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.

- We get it, dude, - Ray said, smirking. - Breathe.

Gerard let out a shaky sigh, his gaze flicking back to me, the corners of his mouth curling up in a shy smile.

- Anyway, I gotta get going now, - I said, moving toward the door. - But hey, let me know when you’re practicing next?

- Definitely! - Gerard said, looking so relieved, like he’d just passed a test. - I’ll, um… yeah, I’ll let you know.

As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of him still staring at me with that hopeful look. It was endearing, the way he looked both thrilled and completely overwhelmed at the idea of me showing up again.

After watching them practice the night before, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So when lunchtime came around, I found myself making my way over to where Gerard was sitting, alone as usual, tucked away near the back wall. He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe I’d actually come over again.

- Y-you… really want to sit here? With me? - He stammered, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

- Of course! - I laughed, plopping down on the floor next to him. - My friends won’t stop talking about the last game… as if I wasn’t there!

- Yeah, I guess they’re pretty into that stuff - Gerard cracked a small smile, relaxing a bit as I settled in.

- Too much, if you ask me… - I chuckled - I’d rather talk about something more interesting… like last night. Seriously, you’re incredible! Your voice? Wow.

His cheeks turned pink, and he avoided eye contact with me, but I noticed the thin smile on his face.

- R-really? I mean, I was just, you know… messing around. It’s nothing special.

-Then I can’t imagine how good you’d be if you were actually trying! - I teased, nudging him lightly. He let out a small laugh, clearly embarrassed but pleased. Glancing down, I noticed the comic book he had open. - What are you reading?

He launched into a surprisingly passionate explanation about the storyline, his eyes lighting up as he talked. Our conversation continued, and with each sentence, I felt like he was slowly opening up, sharing little pieces of himself.

By the time the bell rang, I was surprised at how quickly the minutes had flown by. I stood to head to class, but before I could turn away, he took a deep breath, looking like he was gathering every ounce of courage he had.

- Hey, uh, would you… maybe want to come over? Like… after school? Just us, you know, as friends. We could, uh, watch a movie or something?

My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t hold back a grin.

- I’d like that. What movie are you thinking of?

- Whatever you like, - he replied quickly, looking relieved and a little flustered. - My mom has some romance ones lying around… or I’ve got horror if you’re into that?

- I’m not that into horror, but maybe we can watch two movies. You pick one, I’ll pick one…

- Perfect! - His blush deepened, but he nodded eagerly. - My place, after school. Just us.

As I went back to the class, I couldn't stop smiling at the thought of being at his house alone with him… At the start, my feelings about him weren't anything more than friendship, but the more time I spent with him, the more I liked him.

The afternoon was completely normal, but everything was drowned out by the idea that I would see him after school. When the last period finally ended, he was waiting for me at the classroom door, so that we could go to his house together. He was looking down, fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

- A-are you still up for-

- Absolutely! - I answered, flashing him a smile. We headed out of the school together, walking toward his house side by side. As we walked, I felt my heart thumping with a mix of excitement and nerves.

In his basement, which was still the same, maybe a bit more messy, he picked up the movie he chose, but before putting it on the DVD, he glanced at me with an insecure look.

- A-are you sure that you want to watch this? 'Cause… you know… it’s alright if you don’t…

- Nope, this is fine, - I sat on his bed, crossing my legs. - Thanks for inviting me, Gee.

The name slipped out so naturally that I barely noticed at first. But Gerard did. His face flushed immediately, his gaze snapping to me. For a moment, he was speechless, trying to process what he’d just heard.

- Did you just..? Y-You…called me ‘Gee’? - He stammered. The corner of his mouth lifted into a shy smile, and he quickly turned his head, trying to hide his reaction. But he couldn’t stop himself from peeking back at me with an even wider grin.

- Oh! I…hope you don’t mind - I said softly, noticing how happy he looked.

- N-no, it’s… it’s actually… - He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. - I like it.

He sat down next to me and hit play on the remote control, then the movie started. During the movie we exchanged a few glances, and I could feel the atmosphere in the room getting cozier and cozier. In between movies, we chatted a bit about something, but unfortunately the evening ended more quickly than I would have liked.

As I got up to leave, Gerard hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with the edge of his sweater.

- Uh… I could walk you home, you know… since we’re, uh… neighbors and all, - He mumbled, barely meeting her eyes.

- I’d love that.- I smiled warmly, touched by his offer.

We stepped out into the cool evening, walking side by side down the quiet street. Neither of us spoke much, but the silence felt comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of our footsteps. When we finally reached my driveway, I turned to him, pausing for a moment before speaking.

- Thanks for tonight, Gee,

Before he could respond, I wrapped my arms around him in a quick, warm hug. For a second, he froze, his arms awkwardly hovering in the air. But he quickly hugged her back, his face burning as he tried to process what was happening.

- Y-you’re… welcome, - He managed, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn’t stop smiling, even though it looked like his face might actually be on fire.

- Goodnight, Gee. - I said softly, giving him one last smile before turning toward the door.

- Goodnight… -His voice was quieter now, but I could hear the smile in it as he called back. I waved one last time before stepping inside and closing the door behind me.

Damn, maybe I really liked him.

The next morning, I found myself practically floating through the school halls. The memory of last night. The movie, the hug, Gerard's shy smile… kept replaying in my mind. I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening between us, but something about it felt different… and exciting.

But of course, as soon as I walked into the cafeteria, my friends were waiting for me. They practically pounced on me as I sat down, their eyes wide with curiosity.

- Where were you last night? - One of them asked, a teasing grin on her face. - You disappeared after school and didn’t even say goodbye

- Oh, I was just… watching movies with Gee. - I said, trying to play it cool.

The table went silent for a second before they all broke into laughter. She raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin playing on her lips.

- “Gee”?? Really? You’re already calling him “Gee”? Are we going to start planning the wedding soon, or what?

- We’re just friends, okay? It’s not a big deal - I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my blush.

- Yeah sure - She teased.

This teasing lasted the entire meal, but all I could think about was how, despite all this, it was worth every second of the night before.

Those little moments with him, like movie night, kept happening. Moments when he would tell me about the lyrics he was writing, the characters he was creating for the comics and the movies he was watching; I could listen to him talk for hours, because the more he talked, the more excited he seemed.

Whenever I could, I'd go down to his basement to listen to his band rehearsals, and every now and then he'd show up at my practices too.

1st Person POV (Gerard)

Well, another rehearsal with the guys was starting and I was kind of waiting for the “audience”, but it wasn't long before I got a message “Heyy, Gee! I won't be able to make it to rehearsal today. They booked a practice at the last minute, sorry :(”. sighed, feeling that odd, deflated disappointment wash over me. It was strange… I’d never really “needed” someone to be here before.

- Hey, Gerard. Is your girlfriend coming? - Mikey’s voice cut through my thoughts, and his tone, so serious, made me squirm.

- No... - I mumbled, switching off my phone. - And she's not my girlfriend.

- Uhum… - Mikey said with a smirk.

I got up to fix the speaker, while the others tuned their instruments.

- So, Gerard, - Frank began, his voice way too casual, and I already knew what was coming - you and your cheerleader girlfriend going to the big football games this weekend?

My hands went up to my face, which I felt burning.

- Or maybe you’ll take her to one of those fancy parties - My brother is always helping, of course. - You know, all those exclusive high school events she probably gets invited to?

I groaned, trying to ignore them, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I didn’t know what to say.

- Oh, or maybe you’ll meet her parents soon - Deep inside I thought that Ray wouldn't keep this going. Well, I was wrong. - You know, ask them for permission to hold her hand!

This wasn’t funny. It felt like everything about me and her was getting dragged into some weird joke. The truth is, I wasn’t even sure what I was doing with her, but this wasn’t helping me figure it out.

While they were joking, it felt like they’d hit on something way too real. I wanted to be around her all the time. I wanted to be someone she could actually like. But hearing them mock it just made it feel… impossible.

- I’ve told you guys, We. Are. Not. Dating! - I said, trying to sound firm, but even to my ears, it sounded like I was trying to convince myself.

- Oh, sure, Gerard. We believe you. Totally. - Ray rolled his eyes. - But you want it, don’t you?

I froze. I could feel my heart racing as I tried to make sense of what he had just said. Did I want it? Was that what this was about? I mean, I liked being around her. I liked talking to her, calling her, texting her... But actually thinking about being with her in that way? The way Ray was implying? I couldn’t even picture it without feeling my stomach twist into knots.

- I- I don’t know, man, - I muttered, feeling more lost by the second. - Even if I did... It’s never gonna happen.

I looked down at my hands, trying to keep my voice steady, but it felt like I was talking to a crowd instead of just my bandmates.

- Do you think she would ever want to be seen with me? Like, really? - My voice cracked a little at the end, I felt like I was about to cry. But I couldn’t help it. I was confused. Terrified, even. - Do you think she’d want someone like me?

- Dude, we didn’t mean to-

- Can we change the subject, please? - I mumbled, blinking fast, feeling that awful sting in my eyes. I looked away, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tears building up.

The truth was, deep down, I thought I might like her. Really like her. But it felt like wanting something that was light-years out of reach. I don't belong in the world she's in, it's all so beautiful, all so fancy, all so tidy, all so put-together... and I'm so wrong, broken, weird... Why would she like me like that?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was scared that this was all a setup, like some cruel joke where she’d suddenly laugh and say, “Just kidding!”, as if she's about to drop a bucket of blood on my head, like in Carry.

But as much as it terrified me, I wanted to keep going, to take it as far as I could… maybe hoping, just a little, that she’d see something in me worth keeping around...

1st Person POV (reader)

After days of building up the courage, I finally managed to catch Gerard in the hallway. He was walking to his locker, absorbed in a comic book as usual, his dark hair falling perfectly over his eyes. My heart was racing, but I couldn’t back out now. Prom was coming up, and I didn’t want to go with anyone else.

- Hey, Gee! - I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out a little too high-pitched.

- Hey! What’s up? - He looked up, smiling when he saw me.

- Um, actually… I was wondering… - I think it was the first time I avoided eye contact with him, scratching the back of my neck. - Would you maybe, I don’t know… want to go to prom with me?

I spoke a little faster than usual, and Gerard’s eyes widened like I’d just spoken in another language. He stood there, staring at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

- Wait-what?!

- Prom - I repeated, now feeling my own cheeks burning. - I know it’s not really your thing, but… I’d really love it if you went with me. We could go together, you know, as friends or… whatever you want it to be.

- You’re serious? - He asked, still staring at me in shock. - You… really want to go with me? Like… with me?

- Yeah, Gerard. - I nodded, giving him a small, nervous smile. - I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to. It wouldn’t be the same without you there.

- But… What about your friends? - He furrowed his eyebrows, with a concerned look on his eyes - Won’t they… won’t people think it’s weird? I mean, you’re… you know… you. And I’m…

I took a step closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder, and giving him a thin grin.

- I don’t care what they think, Gerard. - He was looking in my eyes, I can't describe his expression… - I want to go with you. I’d be proud to be seen with you.

- You’re… serious? - His hazel eyes were glowing hopefully.

- Yes. - I nodded again, more certain than ever. - So, what do you say?

- I just… wow. - He panted and I shivered, afraid of him saying no - I really didn’t think you’d ever want… someone like me, at something like this.

- Well, I do. - my anxiety grew with every second he didn't answer - You mean a lot to me, Gee.

He finally smiled, shy and unsure but definitely a smile.

- Okay… okay, yeah. I’ll go with you.

- You will? - I grinned, feeling a surge of relief and excitement.

- Yeah,- he said, nodding as if he was trying to convince himself it was real. - I’d… I’d love to go with you.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and the disbelief and wonder in his eyes made my heart swell. As I turned to head to my locker, I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew this prom would be something neither of us would ever forget.

1st Person POV (Gerard)

I couldn’t focus on anything else the whole day. My mind keeps replaying the sentence “Would you maybe, I don’t know… want to go to prom with me?” during all the classes. When it finally ended, I rushed to my house to meet the guys who were waiting for me to start our band practice. As soon as i steped int the room, i took a deep breath, and started:

- She… she asked me to prom, - I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, barely able to meet their eyes. - Like, she actually asked me.

The room went silent. Frank dropped his tuning fork, and Ray's eyebrows practically shot off his face.

- Holy shit! - Ray smiled - She really invited you?!

- Yeah, but… what if it’s a joke? - Suddenly, this thought came back to me, and I just couldn't hold it in. - I mean, what if she’s just playing some kind of cruel prank on me? Getting me to go so she can… I dunno… laugh at me with her friends or something?

- You’re being silly, dude… - MMikey said, shaking his head with a grin, trying to reassure me. - She really cares about you, I venture to say that she even likes you.

I shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at my worn-out sneakers.

- I just… I don’t know, man. I don’t want to look like an idiot showing up to prom, looking like… well, like me. - I gestured to my faded band shirt and old jeans. - She’s going to show up all… amazing, and I’ll just… I don’t even have clothes for something like that.

- Hey, don’t worry about your clothes. - Frank said, his hand on my shoulder - We’ll help you figure that part out. We can make a cool Gerard version of prom gear.

- I don’t know, guys… - I let out a doubtful sigh, but I couldn't help but feel a little better at their words. - I still feel like I’m walking into some kinda setup.

- Or… maybe it’s not. Maybe she actually likes you and wants to go with you. - Mikey shook his head.

- I guess… I mean, she did seem pretty genuine. But, man, I can’t mess this up.

When I stopped for a while to process everything, and realized that I was so nervous about the idea of her embarrassing me, I didn't realize that I could embarrass her if I did something wrong.

- We’re going to help you get ready for this prom, no question. - Frank keep encouraging me - This is your shot, and you’re gonna look so good, everyone’s gonna wonder why she got so lucky.

I couldn’t help but crack a shy smile, a tiny spark of hope flickering in my chest at his words. I appreciated how they were all backing me up. Still, the nerves didn’t fade. In fact, now I had to find something to wear... and I had no idea where to start.

But maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a total disaster. Maybe, I thought as I looked at the guys with a nervous but hopeful grin, this might actually turn out to be the best night of my life.

1st Person POV (reader)

The night had finally arrived. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I could feel the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. The dress I had picked out earlier in the week felt a little too tight now, my nerves making everything feel more intense than usual. I couldn't help but glance at the clock, watching the minutes tick by as I waited for Gerard to arrive.

What was I thinking? Was I making a huge mistake? Would he feel out of place at prom? I shook my head, trying to silence my anxious thoughts. I had asked him because I wanted him there. I didn’t care about what everyone else would think, and if he felt out of place, well, I hoped my presence would help him feel comfortable.

Then, finally, the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed to open the door, only to freeze for a moment when I saw him standing there.

Gerard looked... different. He was wearing a simple black suit, not too formal but definitely better than what I had imagined. His hair was styled neatly, but it still had that messy, Gerard charm. He looked slightly nervous, his hands shoved in his pockets, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. The nervous smile he gave me made my heart melt a little.

- Hey,- He said softly, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

- Hey, - I replied, suddenly feeling shy too. - You look… you look great.

- I do? - His eyes widened in surprise.

- Yeah, you’re handsome - I nodded, fighting the blush creeping up my neck.

- Thanks... You look… wow. Really beautiful - He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as if he was embarrassed by the compliment.

- Are you ready to go?

- Sure!

The ride to prom felt like a blur. We didn't talk much—both of us were too nervous, I think. When we finally arrived, my friends were already waiting near the entrance, their eyes scanning the crowd as they laughed and joked. As soon as they saw me with Gerard, they froze, their expressions shifting in surprise.

- Oh my God, look who finally decided to show up! - one of them teased. - I knew it! You like him, don’t you?

- You’ve been denying it this whole time, but now it’s so obvious - My face immediately turned bright red. I opened my mouth to protest, but she wasn’t finished.

- You’ve been denying it this whole time, but now it’s so obvious. - All of them kinda laughed.

Gerard was standing a little behind me, looking equally embarrassed, his face flushed. I could feel his discomfort radiating off him, and I could tell that these comments were making him more self-conscious. He shifted on his feet, nervously running a hand through his hair.

I held his hand so we could walk inside. But my moves were interrupted by my friends.

- You guys look cute together, though. Admit it, you like him! - another one of them chimed in, her voice teasing, but with a hint of sincerity.

Once inside, we quickly found our seats at a table. The music was blasting, the lights dimmed, and the air was filled with the sound of chatter, laughter, and the occasional loud cheer from some of the other students. I could feel Gerard stiffening beside me, but I just kept my hand on his, hoping to offer some kind of reassurance. He looked around nervously, his wide eyes scanning the room as though he didn’t belong.

- Are you okay - I asked, in an attempt to comfort him.

- I don’t know…- he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the music. - I mean, I’m glad I’m here with you, but this is… definitely not my scene. You’re the only one who could ever get me to come to a place like this.

I laughed, feeling my heart flutter. I didn’t think he realized just how much that meant to me. The night was already feeling more perfect than I could have ever imagined.

Then, as the slow songs started, the room filled with couples swaying gently to the music. Gerard and I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, he broke the silence.

- I’ve never really done this before… - he said quietly.

- Me neither. - I smiled at him.

And just like that, the awkwardness faded. He pulled me closer, and we started swaying together. He was still a little nervous, but he held me close, and I could feel his warmth, his pulse beating along with mine.

As the song came to a close, Gerard looked down at me, his face flushed. He cleared his throat, trying to hold back his nervousness.

- Thanks for making this the best night ever, - Gerard whispered, his forehead resting against mine.

This… - He hesitated for a second, then smiled shyly - seems like the first time I watched Corpse Bride for the first time… Awesome.

I giggled, then, without saying a word, Gerard leaned down and kissed me. It was soft, gentle, messy, romantic… everything I had imagined and more. He pulled away slowly, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe he had just done that.

We stood there, not caring about the world around us. It was just the two of us, caught in the moment, and in that instant, everything felt right.

- You're welcome - I whispered back.

Smiling, I move to his lips again. His warm lips felt just right, now his hand came up to my cheek, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. This kiss was more confident, like something we both were sure that we wanted. I swear, I've never thought I would end up with Gerard like this… but there is no other place that I would rather be.

___________________________________________

~ So, that's it! Let me know if u like it! (i'm not sure if i liked this one...)

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr #my chemical romance #basement gerard way

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imaginecolby · 2 days ago

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quick change || c.b.

summary: colby helping you color your hair. requested by anonymous.

you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, huffing a loud sigh as you adjusted your hair. you trying to get ready to go out, but your hair was falling flat.

“what’s wrong?” colby called from the bedroom. he soon appeared in the doorframe and you met his eyes in the mirror.

“my hair. i’m just not feeling it today.” you sighed.

“what’s wrong? i think it looks fine.”

“fine he says. but not wonderful, amazing, beautiful, fantastic?” you teased.

“you know what i mean. you know i always think you look good.”

“oh please, you’re just trying to save face.” you said, walking out of the bathroom, patting colby on the cheek. “c’mon, i’m hungry and dont want to think about it anymore.” you said, grabbing your things. you followed colby downstairs and out to his car, making your way to your favorite restaurant for lunch. as you sat at your table waiting for your food to come, you were scrolling on instagram, your explore page full of different people with different hair colors. you gasped loudly, scaring colby from across the table.

“what? what?” he asked, placing his hand over his chest.

“i need to dye my hair.” you said, sliding him your phone. he scrolled through the posts that you’d saved, and started nodding.

“what color? i think you’d look good with red hair.”

“y’know, that’s what i was leaning towards.” you said as colby slid your phone back to you.

after your lunch, you and colby made your way to the beauty supply store, buying all the supplies you needed to color your hair at home.

once you got back home, you set up in the bathroom, turning on some music and getting ready.

colby stood in the bathroom with you, helping you bleach and color your hair. you’d just finished rinsing the bleach from your hair, taking in your now lighter look in the mirror.

“yeah, i don’t think i could ever be blonde.” you said, laughing as colby scrunched his nose and shook his head.

you finished mixing her red dye in the bowl, suddenly nervous about what you were about to do.

“wait, i’m nervous.” you sighed, before putting the brush to your hair. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before starting. before you were able to, you suddenly felt a cold wetness on the back of your head.

“well, there’s no going back now.” colby said, his hand on the back of your head.

“colby! what the hell!”

“you were taking too long and i got impatient.” he shrugged. you just shook your head and continued putting the dye in your hair.

after it was all said and done, and the dye was washed out and you’d styled your hair, colby was getting impatient again, waiting to see the final product.

“y/n, come on!” he called from the bedroom.

“yeah, yeah, i’m coming.” you called back. you ran your fingers through your hair one last time, then finally opened the door.

“well? what do you think?” you asked him. he started you dumbfounded, eyes wide, mouth agape. “so, yes?” you asked after some silence.

“big yes. you look amazing. this color suits you so well.” he said, walkng over to you. you looked up at him as he brushed a lose strand behind your ear. “my beautiful girl.” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips.

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines

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fanfictiongirlie · 2 days ago

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A Song of Sun and Snow - Chapter Three

Click here for Masterlist

Parings: Robb Stark x Baratheon Reader

Description: You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him.

Rating: Explicit (Eventually)

Words: 1,325

P.s: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. No use of Y/N. Only description of 'reader given: the fact that she doesn't look like Joff, Myrcella and Tommen (It's hinted she truly is Robert and Cersei's child) Not much though. Like one line. I wrote this in a different style to my usual style, using 2nd person. Hope it's okay. P.s there will be pregnancy in this, the 'reader' wants to have children. Also the ages are completely different in this fic then they are in the show/book.

You ran back into the castle, rushing to where you knew your family would be. The day room, your father and mother sat together, they didn't look like they were enjoying time together, but your younger siblings looked happy enough. You were red in the face and incredibly flustered.

Everyone turned to you, they were surprised as your appearance since you had never looked anything but calm and controlled.

"What happened?" Your father asked you, he slurred his words as he spoke.

"I hate that man" You huffed pacing the floor "I do not want to marry that Stark boy!"

You family looked at you even more surprised, your mother seemed to be hiding her laughter, wretched woman... Your father looked angry, red in the face, granted he usually looked that way.

"Why don't you wish to marry him?" Your father asked.

"He is awful father, can't you find someone else for me to marry?" You begged.

Your father studied your face, he looked red, angry, and mostly, fed up. This wasn't the first time you had begged to not be wed to Robb Stark, but it had been a long time since you last mentioned it.

"He is the future Lord of Winterfell, daughter...It's an honourable arrangement between two houses, one I will not be breaking" You father spoke, his voice gruff. You knew there was no arguing, he'd never see it your way.

"Yes father" You answer quietly.

Soon it was time for lunch, you joined your family and the Starks in the dining hall. The whole time you tried your best to not look at Robb. He had decided you looked gorgeous when you were pissed off at him. He spoke to you, trying to get your attention, his voice sounded friendly and innocent as he spoke.

"You look lovely, princess"

"Thank you, Lord Stark" You answered, keeping to formalities in front of your family. He chuckled softly at your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes darting over your body again, he spoke in a low voice again, wanting nobody to hear him as he spoke to you.

"You still look beautiful even when you're angry at me, princess"

"I'm always angry at you" You answer, causing him to chuckle quietly.

"You know, I can be pleasant when I want to be. And seeing you like this, all angry, it almost makes me want to mess with you even more, princess"

You sigh unhappily, trying to concentrate on any other than him. You watched your younger siblings, all three of them, watched them eat happily at the table designated for the young ones. You'd miss them the most, even Joff, as horrid as he could be, was still your brother. You hoped little Tommen would remember you.

"You can't ignore me forever, princess..."

"I can try" You whisper as he breaks you from your thoughts. He chuckled again, sounding low and throaty. His eyes kept roaming over your face, over your body.

"You might try, princess, but you won't succeed..." He whispers.

Finally once lunch was over you retreated back to your rooms, you'd be leaving in the morning for Winterfell, most of your belongings had been packed, along with a brand new wardrobe for the cold North. There was only the things left in your room to pack, small things you had collected over the years.

Robb watched you as you left the room. He saw a golden opportunity and discreetly to follow you. He waited a few moments and travelled through the castle until he found your bedroom door. He knocked on the door.

You didn't answer, wanting to be left alone, you'd assumed it was a random handmaid. They'd leave you alone soon enough. He knocked again, not hearing any response from inside, he spoke again, his voice firm and commanding.

"Princess, open the door. I know you're in there"

"You're not allowed in my rooms" You answer firmly. Robb couldn't help the smirk that came on his face. He moved closer to the door, still talking through the door, his voice was now lower.

"And who's going to stop me if I decide to come in, princess?"

"The king?" You answer smugly.

"He won't be around to stop me, princess. Besides, I only want to come in to have a talk with you"

"I'd prefer to be left alone" You answer.

Robb almost growled in annoyance, no matter how pretty he found you, you still annoyed him. It felt normal to be annoyed at you, not these other feelings he had been feeling. But he tried to be nice, rather than tease you.

"Princess, please...let me in.. I won't be long, I promise"

"Lord Stark, leave me alone, I shall see you in the morning" You say sternly. He sighs in frustration. You were being so damn stubborn.

"That's all the way tomorrow...I'd rather speak to you now princess. I promise, I'll be gone before you know it..."

You sigh deeply and open your door slightly.

"I don't feel comfortable with you in my room, you can talk here" You say as you look up at him, his blue eyes sparkling even in the darkness of the hall. Robb smiled in victory. He tried to lean nonchalantly against the frame of the door.

"I'm quite happy with that, as long as you're okay with me being right outside your room and anyone can walk by and hear our conversation" He said smugly.

"What do you need?" You ask, rolling your eyes. He chuckled, he was just thinking about why he really sought you out. But he was distracted, by how gorgeous you looked when you were flustered and annoyed. How much he wanted to get his hands on your body again. He tried to stop himself thinking like that, but the thoughts still remained at the back of his mind. He spoke, trying to sound as calm and controlled as he could.

"I just wanted to check on you, princess? We're starting our journey back to Winterfell tomorrow, and I wanted to see how you were feeling about it?"

"Since when do you care about how I feel?" You answer, taken back by his question. You looked up into his eyes, seeing that he was sincere in his words. Robb felt a pang of hurt, he knew he had a habit of teasing you since he enjoyed rilling you up, but it hurt a little to think that you really thought he didn't care about you at all.

"I care about how you feel, princess. I know you find it hard to believe that, but I do care. I just also like seeing you all annoyed and flustered"

"You live to torment me" You quip up at him.

"Can you blame me, princess?" He asks, that stupid smirk over his lips. "You're so cute when you're all worked up"

"If that's all, I'll be closing my door now"

He had wanted to protest, to tell you to let him in, but he knew it would only cause more of an argument. As much as he wanted to come into your room with you, he had to resist the urge and just look at you instead. His eyes eyes roamed over your body, taking all of you in and imagining what you would look like on your wedding night. Beneath him.

"Very well princess. Get some sleep, the ride to Winterfell will be rough and tiresome"

You nodded and shut the door on him, retreating back to your room for the rest of the afternoon and evening until you went to sleep. Robb was left standing in the hallway, slightly annoyed that you had shut the door on him. He looked at the door, imagining you on the other side, and he wanted nothing more than to go through and join you in bed, hold you in his arms all damn night...

"Gods, you're so infuriating"

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @whatelsecouldgowrong

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #got fanfiction #robb stark fanfic #robb stark #robb stark smut

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