#it just looks like it has a random line across its face

[synthaphone]

my quest for the front facing lenny

i'm expecting this to be less useful than it is entertaining, because there is a good reason why they do not draw lennies from the front: really difficult

these get kind of close?? they look better to me when the beak doesn't break out of the outline of the head, i think, which sucks for me because it means i have to tweak my sculpture lol

this artist was very brave- this is probably the closest thing to a depiction of a front facing modern Lenny

these are kind of unrelated but i'm posting them mostly because i think they look funny as hell, but i appreciate the ambitious concept

and finally, the holy grail:

oh my god

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[owen-writes]

Another random prompt

11th: “oh them? yes they’re super nice! here they are right now-“ *waves to reader who has a resting bitch face, across the room* “see, i told you, adorable!”

Adorable?

11th Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader

The TARDIS had landed on a spaceship. Well, spacebase as the doctor keeps calling it. It looked well looked after and quite new as well. The TARDIS plopped you down right in the middle of what looked like a cafeteria or seating area. Many benches lined the room with a little hatch. But it all looked abandoned. As if it had never been used in the first place.

Your eyes scanned the room, and you landed on a plastic crate, full of things. And of course you had to take a look. So, you went one way and the doctor went another way, heading towards the hatch.

You dig through it, lost in the intricacies of the junk you'd found. Until you hear voices. Looking up towards them, you see the doctor, talking to someone through the hatch. You can catch some of the conversation.

"Where is everyone?"

"Not arrived yet."

They looked human, not much older than you. And they seemed friendly, holding a conversation with the doctor.

"I'm just the mechanic, always first to arrive."

"Why's this spacebase here?"

As you study them, you get lost in thought, your face contouring to its natural state.

"Who are they?"

"Oh, my friend. Super nice."

You hear your name, it's the doctor's voice. And you look up. He gives you his cheeky wave and the other person looks over at you. Then as quick as it began the doctor turns back around and carries on talking.

"See I told you adorable!" You hear the doctor say, louder than what he had been before. You knew it was to get your attention, as you hated being called adorable.

[azzibuckets]

national what day [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very random and unedited little blurb i wrote for national girlfriend day yesterday

word count: 1k

masterlist

“You think I’d forget?”

Emerging from the bathroom, Azzi freezes midway through brushing her teeth, not expecting to see a huge inflatable Olaf, probably as tall as her, sitting on her bed. Even wilder is Paige standing next to the Olaf with a proud grin on her face, one hand holding a gift bag from Tiffany’s and the other holding a huge sign that said “Olaf you!”

Azzi licks toothpaste from the corner of her lip. “What’s this for?”

Paige’s face drops, the corner of her lips turning downwards as a pout starts to form. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Azzi gurgles at the sink before spitting out her toothpaste. Wiping her damp hands dry on her sleep shirt, she returns and eyes Paige curiously. “This is super cute, babe, I love it. But am I missing something?”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow even further, her mouth agape. “You don’t know what today is?”

Azzi looks innocently around, as if an idea would conjure up in the air in front of her. “The first of the month?”

Paige’s mouth pulls into a even tighter line. She slumps on the bed beside the Olaf, throwing her arms around its stomach and burrowing her head into the plastic nylon material. “Maybe you can be my new girlfriend,” she grunts, her voice muffled.

Azzi nudged Paige in the back. “What’s going on?”

The blonde peeks up, one eye glaring at her girlfriend and the other covered by blonde hair falling across her face. “Did you honestly forget it’s national girlfriend day?”

Azzi, having busied herself with her bedtime routine, starts to rub lotion onto her face. “Is that a thing?”

“Of course it’s a thing!” Paige whines. “How do you not know it exists?”

“I’m not chronically online,” Azzi says slyly, smirking at Paige in the mirror.

“Babe.” Paige is behind Azzi now, hands splaying across her waist and pulling her in. She brushes a kiss across the nape of Azzi’s neck, fingers smoothing out the curly baby hairs at her hairline. “Did you really not know?”

The dejected look on Paige’s face forces Azzi out of her act. Bursting out laughing, Azzi turns in Paige’s room and presses a light kiss to her nose. “You’re so gullible it’s cute.”

“I’m cute?” Paige is smirking now, completely ignoring the first half of the sentence as her eyes glaze over with wonder.

Azzi pushes Paige in the forehead with her palm. “And you’re so in love with me you’re deaf.” Shaken out of her trance, Paige follows Azzi to the bathroom.

“That’s fucked up,” Paige groans. “Why’d you do me like that earlier?”

“You were gone the entire day and you said you’d be home by 7. It’s 10 and you just got back.” Azzi has a half smile on her face, but Paige sees right through it. She hates the thought of her ever disappointing her girlfriend, so she swallows down her pride.

“I’m really sorry, I was at Tiffany’s getting your necklace I ordered ahead but then it took a while and-,”

“Paige, it’s okay,” Azzi interrupts, reaching out to brush off a piece of lint from Paige’s shoulder. Her hand rests there and she squeezes. “I’m not mad at you, I swear. I just wish you would’ve texted me so I could’ve prepared better.”

“Prepared?”

“I made us dinner.” Azzi glances shyly away. “Spaghetti, steak, all your favorites. It’s in the fridge now, but it’s fine. We can eat it later, like meal prep.”

“Azzi.” There’s hurt and regret and guilt packed in only one word, and Paige’s eyes are wet when she clamps her hand over Azzi’s. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I should’ve texted. I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise.” Paige cups Azzi’s face in hers, beginning to pepper her face with kisses. “Tomorrow, just me and you. I’m gonna take you out, okay? It’s gonna be the best day of your life.”

Laughing, Azzi shakes her head. “Don’t feel bad, Paige, I told you it’s fine.”

“You’re too fucking good of a person,” Paige says, all serious now. “I messed up and should take responsibility for it.”

“I don’t know, your huge ass Olaf makes it easy to forgive you.” Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, eyes softening once she realizes that a necklace of polaroids is draped across its neck. “Is that us?”

Paige follows Azzi’s glance. “It is. But come on.” Dragging Azzi’s hand along, she leads them downstairs to the kitchen before they’re both staring at the fridge.

“Paige, it’s 10 PM.”

“You made us dinner. We gotta eat it.” Paige opens the fridge and immediately starts stacking the counter with the Tupperware containers marked with “P&A”.

“You missed the vegetables,” Azzi says pointedly when Paige starts to close the fridge.

“No, I didn’t,” Paige says breezily before shutting the door.

“Where are we going?” Azzi questions as Paige picks up the containers before hurrying out the front door.

“Somewhere more private.” Juggling all the containers on one hand, Paige opens the door to the back seat with the other and ushers Azzi inside.

“Sitting in a cold and dark car eating cold leftovers. Best national girlfriend’s day ever,” Azzi says sarcastically as she scoots in.

“Shut up.” Paige flicks Azzi in the cheek. “I wanna cuddle while we eat.”

“We couldn’t do this in our room?”

“You know your mom hates when we eat in the bedroom.”

Azzi shrugs, adjusting their bodies so that she’s lying in Paige’s arms as they sprawl across the three seats.

“This is what I used to dream of.”

“Huh?” Azzi looks up as she pops a piece of cold steak into her mouth.

“Calling you my girlfriend. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to be with you and I have to slap myself. I used to think about scenarios like this every fucking night before I went to sleep.”

Azzi smiles into Paige’s bicep. “You’re such a romantic.”

“You know that if I had the choice I would’ve spent the entire day with you?”

“I know. You’re pretty obsessed with me.” And there are a lot of words that Azzi wants to say. That she thinks that her heart beats for Paige, and she doesn’t know how she managed to live before this crazy beanpole white girl ran into her life and upheaved everything she knew. But she stores it inside the small part of her brain that’s been working on her vows since she was 14, and instead she says, “But it’s not like you forgot an anniversary. You and I both know today doesn’t really matter.”

“But you matter.” Paige’s grip tightens on Azzi.

Azzi nuzzles her head into Paige’s chest, sighing contentedly as her eyes flutter sleepily. “You make me feel like I matter.”

[runa-falls]

*raise hand violently* PLEASE CAN I ASK ABOUT sub!miguel headcanons?!?!?!?!?!

What makes him whine, how pretty does his whimpers sound like?!?!?!

How gorgeous does he look when his eyes get all shiny and wet with tears because you won't let him come yet.

sub!miguel headcanons

basic summary: miguel is the whiniest, most pushy malewife and you are his protector, comforter, and safe space :3

a/n: OK BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT? (im so sorry lmfaooo) also does it count as headcanons if i have random scenes in between them?? wtvr *shoves fic in ur arms and sprints away*

content: suggestive + fluffy

masterlist

---

bed habits (I'M TALKING AB SLEEPING YOU DIRTY BASTARD!) -- miguel is a sleepy, cuddly boy

he never has trouble falling asleep when you're around (except for when he - adorably - forces himself to stay awake so he can spend time with you)

this man is 6'7" but he still tries to curl up on your lap when you're lounging on the couch just so you can play with his hair as he dozes off

miguel owns a king sized bed, big enough to fit five people comfortably, yet he's adamant to take up all your space

it gets hot (i mean, he's hot -- literally, like his internal temp is higher than the average human) but even when you try to shove him away, he only pulls you closer to him

if you do, somehow, get away from him, he wakes up immediately with a sleepy groan, blindly reaching across the mattress for you:

you try to dodge his hands, laying precariously at the edge of the bed, hoping he would give up and go back to sleep. unfortunately, it only makes him whine like a spoiled child, "baby, closer. need you...come here" god -- he has such a cute sleepy voice...

but you don't let it sway you. you're already laying on top of the comforter, desperately trying to cool off and get back to sleep.

"it's too hot, miguel"

"but...i can't sleep without you" you can hear the pout in his voice

"just hold a pillow and pretend its me"

he sighs -- actually sighs like the dramatic man he is, "but it's not the same!"

you don't respond, refusing to continue this 3 am argument that you'll never win, and pretend to fall back asleep. maybe he will practice self-soothing or something and sleep by himself? maybe he'll be an adult about this?

silence settles in the air for a few minutes and you're nearly lulled back to unconsciousness. and then you hear the sheets rustle as he sits up next to you, suddenly fully awake and stubbornly staring down at you.

"please?"

"mig, no amount of 'pleases' will convince me to sleep against your volcanic body"

"...how about just until I fall asleep?"

"but when I move away you'll wake up again."

you hear a quiet 'hmph' before you're promptly tugged back against his body. his face presses against your hair as he situates himself to engulf you in his warmth. "exactly, so don't leave me."

it's a common misconception that sub!mig likes to be the little spoon but actually he likes to cling onto you like you're a living teddy bear -- face nuzzled against your neck, legs intertwined with yours, and one large hand on your tit

you often wake up in a tangled mess, your neck stiff from the contorted positions he maneuvers your body into during the night

but you don't mind it anymore, especially on those rare morning swhen you wake up before him and you get to see those worry lines on his forehead soften as he sleeps soundly next to you

miguel is a soft and eager man:

it's his life mission to provide for you, to hear soft words of praise whisper from your lips

as soon as you're alone in a room, he drops the tough guy act and immediately searches for your warmth

miguel sticks to you like velcro when he isn't fighting crime in the city

and when he isn't with you, he's absolutely thinking about you

(of course he makes sure that you're thinking about him too with all the texts he sends you throughout the day -- adorned with cheesy emojis...)

this dude is so needy and desperate for your love, praise and approval that he's the one asking "would you still love me if i were a spider-mutant worm and i looked at you like this: 🐛 to say 'i love you'?"

would he call you 'mami'? debatable.

but he loves it when you call him honey, sweetheart, baby, bubby/bubs, hubby (he wants to marry you so bad), and puppy (WHEN HE'S KINKY BC HE'S A HORNY SOB)

you swear he whimpers a little when you tell him what a good man he is -- when you confess that he's your hero, even when he's not swinging around the city and lifting up buildings with his bare hands

his warm brown eyes search your face, a desperate quest for truth in every gentle word you speak. he's never been spoken to so softly in his life -- this tenderness, it's new...too good to be true

as time passes and your love deepens, he begins to realize that it's all true, that everthing about you is genuine, that he is loveable after all

miguel worships you:

he is definitely a worshipper when you let him be

on slower, more sensual nights, he makes sure to paint your body in kisses, from your ankles to your forehead it's almost tortuous

(maybe even bites if it's been a while since he's seen you)

he likes to kneel for you, make himself smaller so he can look up at you and appreciate everything you've provided for him

he's really whiny and pathetic though...

he wants to be told what to do, when to do it, and how. it helps him let go of this thoughts, anything that's weighing on him

it could be his heightened senses or just his desperation, but he needs to touch you all the time -- even just the light feeling of his hand against your thigh gives him a euphoric feeling.

so you deny him because you know how much he loves the delayed gratification and humiliation when you tease him for it.

"baby, you're acting so needy right now~" you decided to withdraw from the heated interaction to keep him at the edge. his eyes are dark, blazing with heat, as you speak to him with a syrupy sweet voice.

he pouts from the spot where he's kneeling for you, already achingly hard from the thorough petting session you just gave him.

"i'm not trying to be...just really need it." he's whining with a mixture of shame, frustration, and exasperation in his voice.

"It?" you tilt your head, a small smile gracing your lips.

"..." he doesn't elaborate. you can see a hint of pinkness creep up his neck as his eyes avoid yours.

he can get so shy sometimes. it's endearing. it makes you want to destroy him then put him back together again.

"honey, i can't give you what you need unless you tell me." you know what he wants, but you want to hear him say it.

"please"

[v1x3n]

COD MEN AND THEIR FIRST DATE WITH YOU

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY — your first actual date would be at his, he has set his living room up in soft blankets and the coffee table cluttered in snacks and fizzy drinks. the lights turned off as he guides you to the couch, the tv turned on and your favorite movie paused. he mumbles something about wanting to make you feel better after you had a shitty week. a smile grows on your mouth as you settle into the sofa, watching your favorite film. his attention isnt much on the movie, his eyes linger on your glowing smile, and he thinks to himself; fuck, youre so pretty right now. after the film, he orders take away and you two chatter, putting on a random series for backround noise. soon it gets very late and you leave his house, fed and happy. but before you leave he receives a kiss on the cheek and a very happy thank you.

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MCTAVISH — he definitely does something wacky, but makes sure you likes it ofc. his ideal first date would be bowling maybe something along that line. at the start he goes easy on you, purposely missing some of the pins or throwing the ball weakly. but after a bit maybeee he gets a little competitive, striking all the pins st once - earning a gasp from you. ofc you aren't going to be as good as him but you still try and he can see that. when you ended up getting all of the pins, you spin around as he smirks at you and gives you a cheeky well done. in the end, he won, obviously. you almost passed him though! heading to Nando's after, you two yap the entire time until finishing your meals. he obviously goes with something hot to impress you, but when his lips go bright red and he curses, grabbing his coke and chugging the whole thing - you burst out laughing. you give his swollen lips a peck when he drives you home.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK — takes you too a bar, buys a few drinks for the two of you. not enough to get you pissed but enough to get you a little tipsy. chattering and giggling between the two of yous while you order some chips and a burger. its quite casual, but the both of you like it like that. you told him he didn't need to take you somewhere proper and fancy, the local pub - well maybe a nicer pub - would do. after he walks you home, yapping together and soft smiles while you slightly shiver in the cold air. noticing the hairs on your arms rising and the hitch in your breath when a gust of freezing air blows past the two of you. he snorts and takes his jacket off, laying it over your shoulders when he grumbles a quick, 'ere'. when you get to your house, he brings his arms up and down yours, warming you up the slightest. after kissing the top of your head - you kiss the corner of his mouth. then your two mouths connect in a small peck, blushing instantly. he silently cheers himself on once your door shuts in his face - celebrating that he just kissed a gorgeous girl.

JOHN PRICE — always listens to everything you ever say, you mention you like this one restaurant? oh? its your favourite? hes taking you there. you smile up at him when he drives you to the familiar parking lot, telling him you love this place! his cheery smile when you two go inside and sits opposite you. ordering off the menu and giving you subtle looks when your eyes scan through the familiar menu. he orders for you when the waiter comes over and your cheeks slightly blush at that. he speaks up that your outfit is gorgeous and tells you that your hair looks so nice, your blush creeps across your cheeks. face heating up as you see his gaze travel to the smile that plasters onto your face. once you have tea, he makes sure to take you somewhere else after - make a night outa it. he takes you to walk down the beach after, the moonlight shining off of your face as you two talk about the most randomist of things. he spoke about his job, and you told him about yours. nearing the end you two walk back up to the car, and he drives you home. before you leave you peck him on the cheek to thank him for the date, telling him you hoped the second date could come soon. john watches you walk down your front garden - unlocking the door. making sure you get in okay. dreaming about the second date.

PHILLIP GRAVES — took you to the cinema, you had mentioned that you wanted to see this film... so here you are. he had bought you the nice chairs, the ones that had extra cup holders and the fabric was more comfortable. you reminded him it was okay and he didn't haf too but he didn't listen obviously. once you got there he instantly moved the armrest between yous up so you two could be closer! he buys you sweets and popcorn from a local shop, as many as you want he told you. with a carrier bag full of just utter shit, you two enjoy the movie he picked. well, you enjoy it - his eyes are mainly on you, the twitches in your face when something sad or happy happens and the way you struggle to sit in a position were all so cute to him. throughout the movie he tries to gain enough courage to wrap his arms around your waist or at least his shoulders. yeah he was normally a confident guy but something about you just made him all fluttery and nervous. once successfully wrapping his arm around your waist, you snuggle towards him and embrace his warmth. he smiles at that. spilt popcorn on the floor and the movie credits roll, you both stand up and snort at the mess on both your laps. wiping off the remains of the bag of popcorn, you two walk out and yap about the movie. safe to say he didn't have much input.

[uraharasfavoriteexperiment]

[ pairing ] husband!heian era!ryomen sukuna x male reader [ genres ] fluffy romance with a villain [ cw ] phsyical contact, kisses (sukuna has a potty mouth in the nsfw version :3) [ author's notes ] i also wrote a nsfw version if anyone wants to see it, its also a bit longer than this cute one [ words ] 583 please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

sukuna yawned into his hand, sitting up in bed. he reached up with that hand and ruffled his fluffy, jet-black hair, a sigh escaping his lips. he then let out a soft, quiet sound one could accurately call a growl. he looked over at the boy on the other side of the bed, smiling. he reached out and let his fingers roam into your [color/texture] hair, his smile widening into a small grin. he let his fingers tangle into your hair and detangled them in a way that was uncharacteristically soft, caring and gentle for his usual murderous, aggressive, loud personality.

you slowly slid across the line from sleep to wakefulness, a small, sleepy smile inching onto your face in response to the gentle, loving feeling of someone else's fingers playing around in your hair.

"mm... morning, s'kuna..." you mumbled, smiling again. you slowly stretched your arms out in front of you, then just as slowly turned over onto your back and looked up toward the ceiling; when you saw who was to blame for the random show of affection.

instead of looking up at the obsidian ceiling of ryomen sukuna's bedroom, you made direct eye contact with the king of curses himself... the king of curses who just so happened to have your heart wrapped around his finger... and a wedding ring, as well.

sukuna grinned, looking you right back in the eyes as his fingers continued to frolic in your hair.

" cursed morning, darling... " he purrs into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

a soft blush about the same color of the insides of sukuna's irises (the area around his pupils) dusted your face; a grin crossed your face that matched the one on your husband's face. you reached up and made grabby hands at sukuna; he gladly obliged, letting his weight fall onto his elbow and leaning down to touch the tip of his nose to yours. you wrapped your arms around him and your fingers started to wander up and down his shoulders and the area of his spine that was the back of his neck.

sukuna smiled, cupping the side of your face in one hand and pressing his lips to yours. the kiss gave you some of the same feelings you had felt when you and sukuna had experienced that first kiss... it was soft, loving, passionate... but at the same time it was hot, it conveyed the eternally existing fire of need he felt for you, and it may have been slightly aggressive... and slightly possessive.

pff, "slightly," scratch that- sukuna would burn every civilization in the milky way galaxy to the ground if any living thing ever put a hand on you, whether harm was meant or not.

you smiled against sukuna's lips, pulling him closer and letting him pick you up with all four of his big, strong, war-worn hands, changing your positions so that you were sitting comfortably in his lap.

"mmmm... so pretty..." he purred into your ear. his hands roamed your top-naked body possessively as he softly broke the kiss, putting two hands on both sides of your face and touching his forehead to yours. his other two arms squeezed your thighs, then slid up to grip your waist before two arms wrapped around your lower back, gently but covetously forcing you closer to him so that your chest was pressed against his.

"mine." he growled quietly, his voice dripping with many emotions- love, obsession...

and the lingering desire to kill.

© uraharasfavoriteexperiment.

[w2soneshots]

Two becomes three -George clarkey

words: 2.4k+

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, sickness, worrying, birth.

summary: you and your husband George’s journey to unexpectedly becoming parents along with your social media posts during your pregnancy.

notes: hello my loves! Here’s the request. I love writing fluffy fics like this🥹. I hope you all enjoy this extra long one shot!!🧸🎀🤍 (please lmk what you think!)

Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 934,125 others

y/username: baby has entered the chat @georgeclarkeey

-comments-

chrismd10: congratulations guys❤️

faithloisak: how cute!! So happy for you two🥹✨

max_balegdae: ahhhhhhhhh

y/nfanpage21: there's no fucking way!!🙊

user27549810: the random George jump-scare at the end lol

user60286430: didn't they just get married like five seconds ago?😅

I met my now husband George four years ago. He followed me on instagram, I followed him back and not long after that we were dating. Last year he proposed and just under a month ago we had our wedding, which was beautiful and only had our closet friends and family.

An hour ago I took a pregnancy test. I was only a day late on my period but I took it just in case. I could hardly believe it when I saw two lines and it was so faint that I convinced myself I was seeing things so I decided to sleep on it and then tell George when I knew for sure.

But I just couldn't keep it a secret. I blurted out, "George, I think pregnant." As soon as he walked through the front door after his shoot with Arthur tv. He was baffled. "You- woah- you think?" I nodded. He took a moment to process what I just said. "And you took a test?" He finally asked. "Yeah, the lines were really faint though. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to tell you but- it just came out."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I let out a soft sigh of relief. "If you are then I'll be so happy," he whispered into my hair. I smiled, though he couldn't see me. "I'm so overwhelmed," I mumbled. His hand made its way up to my hair and he gently ran it over my scalp, silently reassuring me.

That night everything felt so strange. You're supposed to take the tests in the morning anyway for the most accurate results so we were just waiting and trying not to get our hopes up in case it wasn't positive.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed. I reached for my phone and then read the text George had sent me just ten minutes ago; "gone to buy more tests, hopefully I'll be back before you're awake x" I sighed softly then got up.

As I was brushing my teeth the front door clicked open and soon George was walking into the ensuite. He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, looking at me through the mirror. "Ready, love?"

"You look. I can't." I quickly passed the upside down test to George as we sat on the end of our bed. Just seconds before, the alarm on my phone rung but I couldn't bring myself to look at the test.

He took it and flipped it over. A wide smile spread across his face as an excited chuckle escaped his mouth. "Seriously?" I asked, shocked. "Y- yeah, you're pregnant!" He shot up of the bed. I giggled. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He pulled me up and into a bone crushing hug.

The next two months weren't very fun. At the beginning we were both so ecstatic. Then the morning sickness hit. I could barely eat, sleep and it was becoming impossible to make up excuses for why I couldn't go out.

George was like my rock through the entire ordeal. He was by my side every time I had to run to the bathroom, he held me and gently stroked my back as I tried to get some sleep, he pleaded with the doctor when we went for my first appointment hoping there was something, anything they could do and he let me ramble on about how I just wanted to feel normal again.

Slowly our friends figured it out and offered their help. The girls put together a basket and Faith made sure to include everything that helped her through her first trimester, Chris came round to keep me company while George had to go and film something for a brand deal and George's sister sat with me as we online shopped since I couldn't really go out.

When the sickness slowly started to ease off everyone was so relieved, George especially because he hated seeing me constantly upset. I was finally able to enjoy pregnancy, announce it on instagram and suddenly the last few months were erased from my mind.

Liked by faithloisak, arthurtv and 513,290 others

y/username: love, hate relationship with the heat

-comments-

taliamar: you're glowing babe!!💞

-> y/username: 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

georgeclarkeey: 🐊

y/nfanpage21: the puppy🥹

user85299106: this is adorable

At twenty two weeks we went on our little baby moon. I spent twelve days relaxing in the sun while George fussed about suncream and making sure I was in the shade. Since becoming pregnant he's been much more protective, which I don't mind since it's never overbearing. He's just trying to help in anyway possible.

"Good morning sleepy head." George greeted me quietly, sitting on the side of the bed next to my sleepy form and gently pushing the messy hair from my face. "Mornin'" I mumbled, shuffling slightly. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead before asking if I wanted some breakfast, to which I immediately nodded.

We left our little apartment after getting ready and walked hand in hand down the street towards the cute little outdoor café we'd spent quite a few mornings in the past week and a half.

"Thank you." I smiled at the young girl handing me my pancakes. "Will that be all?" She asked politely after placing George's breakfast in front of him. I nodded and she walked away.

"Mmm, I'm so glad I can actually enjoy food again," I said after swallowing a mouthful of food. George just stared at me. "What?" "I just love watching you." I chuckled. "That sounds a bit creepy babe."

When the day came that our baby moon was over I was sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that I'd made life long memories in but I was secretly very excited to be going home and getting back into normal life.

Liked by chrismd10, taliamar and 623,309 others

y/username: clearing out my camera roll✨

-comments-

arthurtv: fifth slide?😭

-> georgeclarkeey:🫃🏼🤰

faithloisak: stunning!!!

y/nfanpage21: you, the bump, the flowers, all so cute💝

user10479624: you're both going to be the best parents

The next few months were spent relaxing and preparing for the arrival of our baby, who we found out the sex of just after our baby moon. We had a little gender reveal at our apartment with our families and a few special friends. We decided on a cake, classic, cute and delicious.

"I can't tell!" George announced. I stood next to him, my hand holding the knife that was cutting through the cake. Both of us were trying to peek at the sponge but it wasn't until I pulled the slice out that we spotted the pink.

Immediately the room erupted into cheers. I placed it down on a plate along with the knife and I turned to my husband. Tears welled in my eyes and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body off of the ground the commotion around us seemed to disappear and all I could focus on was us.

"We're having a girl," I whispered, as though I was trying to convince myself that this was actually real. He gently placed me down, his hands landing on my hips. "I knew it. Dad intuition goes crazy." I giggled before pushing onto my tip toes and placing a loving kiss to his lips.

After that day I was suddenly obsessed with buying baby clothes, what the nursery was going to look like and the realisation hit me that I was actually going to have to push a human being out of my body, though George was quick to reassure me about that.

"Baby's the size of a small pineapple this week," I informed George as we sat on the couch, my feet resting on his lap as he slowly massaged them through my socks. I turned my phone around so he could see the app that keeps track of the baby.

"That's huge." He muttered, eyes widening slightly. I chuckled. "When she's done cooking she'll be the size of a pumpkin." "Oh god, I'm sorry." My brows furrowed, an amused look on my face. "What are you apologising for?"

"You're gonna have to lug around a pumpkin sized baby," he replied, deadly serious. I just laughed, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

The months flew by and suddenly I was actually carrying a pumpkin sized baby in my stomach. At thirty seven weeks my back constantly ached, I needed to pee every five minutes, I wasn't sleeping properly since I had a future gymnast kicking around in my stomach and all in all I was just uncomfortable.

Since I could now go into labour at any second George was watching me like a hawk. Every grimace when I felt an extra strong kick, every sigh and every time my hand touched my stomach he would sit upright and just wait for me to say something.

"I'm fine, George," I'd say. "Just checking," he'd reply and that interaction would repeat itself another one hundred times before the day ended.

"I won't go if you don't want me to, Chris can find someone else last minute," George whispered as we lay in bed, my back pressed against his chest as he gently drew circles on the side of my bump. "No, I'll be okay. It's only a few hours," I mumbled back, half asleep. "Okay, just promise you'll call me if anything happens?" "Promise."

He left early the next morning to film the football video for Chris' channel, meaning I woke up alone. I went about my routine like normal though it felt like it was taking me longer to do my usual things, like I was moving at snail pace, which was slightly strange but I brushed it off.

An hour later I lay on the couch scrolling through instagram when I felt a twinge in my lower stomach. My brows furrowed slightly. "That was weird," I thought but I continued to scroll.

Until I felt it again. This time I decided to keep my promise to George and phone him. It ring a few times before he picked up. "Everything okay? Is it the baby?" He said immediately in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, I just feel... weird."

He took in a shaky breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come today! I'm coming home." "It's fine, I'm- we're fine. Calm down-" "no no, I'll be there in twenty minutes, love you." And with that he ended the call. I sighed, feeling slightly bad that he'd had to leave the shoot but also a little relieved.

Just under twenty minutes later he burst through our apartment door. I stood in the kitchen, hands on the countertop as I took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. I heard his bags drop then the sound of his feet racing towards me.

"You said you just felt weird!" He placed his hand on the small of my back. I looked up at him as the pain subsided. "I did! It started getting worse after I called you."

George collected himself. "Okay okay, you're having contractions?" "Mhm, think so," I responded quietly. "How far apart?" "Like five minutes." He thought back to the birthing class we'd gone to last month. "I think we've got some time and the woman said the first kid always takes a while so let's not stress," he tried to reassure me and himself.

"I'll go get the bag, you just- uh... breathe." I chuckled softly, already calmer now that he was here. He emerged from our bedroom minutes later with the small suitcase in hand.

It took half a hour to get out of the door, drive to the hospital and get checked into a room. After that we could both relax.

The contractions weren't unbearable but I wanted the epidural as soon as possible. "Hmf-" I squeezed George's hand. "Another one?" He asked softly. All I could do was nod. "You're doing amazing sweetheart, so so good. I'm so proud of you."

Once I got the injection I felt like a million bucks. I couldn't feel the contractions, just a little bit of pressure. I sat in the bed happily as I ate my ice chips. Before I knew it, it was time to push.

Liked by sidemen, prettylittlething and 1,004,586 others

y/username: we've been in our little baby bubble this week but I wanted to officially introduce you to Maddie Clarke🤍👼🏼💫

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: my girls❤️

max_balegdae: yasss mother

taliamar: congratulations🥺💓

y/nfanpage21: I'M CRYING

user02781643: they're literally living the dream life omg!!

"She looks just like you," I said as I watched George's eyes fill with tears, his arms secured around his daughter, just ten minutes after she'd entered the world. He glanced down at me. "I love you so much, this is officially the best day of my life," he whispered. I smiled fondly and somehow I fell in love with George all over again, in a completely different way.

We spent a day and a half in the hospital before being discharged. It had been just me, George and the baby in a little room so it felt amazing to go home. I waddled after my husband as I watched him carry our newborn -who slept soundly in her car seat- out and toward the car. He strapped her in then helped me into the backseat.

"I get what people were taking about now," I said as he stared the engine. "Huh?" "I saw a video about the 'hot dad walk' out of the hospital and I totally get them." He chuckled, though he was cautious of the sleeping baby.

After a few days and once we were in somewhat of a routine his family came over to visit. His slightly younger sister was so excited and could barely keep quiet. "She's adorable. Oh my goodness, look at her little feet!" "Okay everyone, no touching until you've washed your hands!" He announced, pointing towards the kitchen sink.

I watched with a smile on my face as he fussed over whether Maddie's head was supported, it was extremely sweet how much he cared for and loved our daughter. I couldn't wait to watch as he became the best dad ever.

[withleeknow]

rue de rivoli.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, semi edited lol, a little sappy and very self indulgent and inspired by a very specific instance in that one hyunjin vlog in japan 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

hyunjin might be the worst - and you mean it, the worst - travel partner.

it’s all because of that ridiculously expensive camera of his and the little hobby that he’s taken up on.

“hey,” he calls out softly, trailing a few steps behind you as he raises the camera up to his face again. “hold it right there.”

you huff out a breath in mild annoyance, blowing some hair away from your face as the air escapes from your lips.

“seriously? you’ve taken a gazillion pictures already. this is the third time you’ve made me stop in the past thirty minutes.”

“but the lighting is just perfect.”

“we’re only here for a few days! i can’t see all the places i wanna see if you keep making me stop every two seconds!”

it was cute at first, how he kept asking you to stop in the middle of the street to snap a photo of you. it made you blush every time he did, because he would take another brief moment to admire the final product on his camera’s display screen and tell you that even though the photo turned out great, it could never truly capture how beautiful you are through his eyes. then he’d press a kiss to your cheek or a swift peck to your lips before taking your hand and tugging you along, en route to the tourist attractions that you’ve yet to come across.

to be fair, it’s still cute, and despite your feeble irritation, you still let hyunjin take his photos every time he asks. mostly because he would start sporting a gigantic pout on his face, coupled with the way his eyes widen like a puppy begging for a treat.

“please? you look so pretty right now. pleaseee?”

you acquiesce - of course you do - because who can say no to a cute whiny hyunjin?

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, and a bright grin immediately spreads on his lips because he knows that he’s getting what he wants, the smile so brilliant that it brings out his whisker dimples and turns his eyes into adorable crescent moons.

he patters over to you on light footsteps once the shot has been snapped, proudly showing you his handy work even though you secretly think it looks the same as any other photo of you that he’s taken - sometimes it’s your side profile with your hair covering half of your face because you’re too awkward to look directly at the camera, sometimes it’s you in random poses because you’re never sure what to do with your hands while getting your picture taken.

“did you even take any photos of the scenery?”

hyunjin shrugs, pretty indifferent to your question. “yeah, a few.”

“a few? give me that, let me see... you’ve taken two hundred and sixty four photos so far and only a few are of freaking paris?!”

another shrug, then cue one of the corniest things he’s ever said to you in your entire life. “you’re prettier than paris.”

sure, it’s a massively cliché thing to say, and a teeny bit cringeworthy to hear if this were a sappy romance movie. but coming from him, you know the sentiment is entirely genuine because hyunjin is nothing if not one of the sincerest people you know.

it makes you short-circuit as you stare up at him. the sun behind him softens by a fraction as it starts to make its descent, and the slowly fading sunlight looks as though it’s found a home as his personal halo. to have someone as beautiful as him tell you that you’re prettier than the city of love itself is quite honestly a little surreal, no matter how long you’ve been together.

“that was the cheesiest shit ever,” you comment, pretending to gag but knowing perfectly well that he can see the rosy flush on your cheeks. you mutter something else - for good measure - along the lines of never going on a trip with him again.

hyunjin laughs that endearing signature laugh of his, then he twists the cap back on the camera lens and once again lets the device dangle from the strap around his neck. he pulls you toward him with ease and kisses you deeply with a smile on his lips, one that’s warmer than the parisian sun could ever hope to be.

no, hyunjin isn’t a great travel partner. yes, mostly because he takes up all of your time trying to take pictures of you instead of letting you freely wander to the spots that you’d spent a lot of time bookmarking on google maps beforehand. he might be the worst person you’ve gone on a trip with because when you’re travelling, you like to be productive with your time and be able to do everything you set out to do in the limited number of days you have.

but even then, maybe it’s not that terrible having to miss watching the sunset in front of the eiffel tower because more exquisite than all of the most renowned artworks displayed in the louvre and more enchanting than any view you can spot from montmarte is your hyunjin that you adore, who’s kissing you in the middle of a street which name you can’t even pronounce.

any irritation you had from before slowly melts away. you don’t even care (that much) that you’re in the city of love.

any city is love when you’re with him.

(even when he messes up your travel plans sometimes.)

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki (italicized = can’t tag)

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.03.2024]

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

Hi🩵 I hope you're having a great day

I was wondering maybe if you could make headcanons about how percy would be like in bed like his favorite positions and things he does to his s/o

THANK YOU IN ADVANCE 🩵

What Percy would be like in bed NSFW warning

check out my masterlist for more NSFW->masterlist

tags: percy jackson. Aged up. NSFW.

missionary for starters: so he can see your face and your reactions from above.

talking about above, I think he would also enjoy the foreplay to start things off - placing his lover against the counter or on top of something and get between their legs.

There, he can take off their shirt or his own shirt and do things slowly. In his mind, the bed is where things really start, so he wants to get comfortable as possible.

the idea of pounding and going harder is for very obv. reasons a turn on but he is hesitant to do it because in the moment he gets really close, so hes afraid he'll cum.

he has the habit of not only staring but also looking away shyly when they stare back. Sometimes he will hold the stare until either looks away, he likes to build tension during and even before they start. When his s/o makes noises, his eyes flicker to their face, he thinks its really flattering that they moan because of him.

once after the first time(s) he would be comfortable enough to start using different positions.

He would stick with the classics, missionary, doggy-style (this one really got his heart pounding in his ears he was so turned on he couldn't breathe straight and kept panting).

He likes the idea of grabbing his s/o's leg or ankle and yank them into place, like dragging them toward him so he can get a better angle.

Percy wants to keep quiet, so he ends up scrunching his face ups and cocking his head to the side, biting down and clenching his jaw tight, sometimes even holding his breath slightly.

but as soon as he breathes, a noise always ends up escaping. its like a half-whine but its somewhat high-pitched and doesn't last long (meaning he doesnt let himself drag it out).

the sight of his s/o looking up at him or looking at them from behind makes his hands somewhat clammy and he feels embarassed that he needs to wipe them on the bedsheets.

praise him, dirty talk him (this one takes him by surprise) and he becomes such a love-struck fool willing to do anything to please his lover. He needs to know if he's doing well, otherwise he will spiral and his thoughts will consume him - to the point where he might even run away.

if his s/o takes the initiative he feels flustered but also insecure for a moment: was he not doing it right? mind you, this guy is a virgin and has not done things with anyone, so he can't help but feel insecure. but yet again, convince him and praise him and he is back.

once the sex and the pillow-talk comes, he imagines scenarios for the future: like his s/o straddling his thighs while they're either on the sofa or in his bedroom, his shirt thrown half haphazardly on the floor somewhere, gripping his s/os thighs and he's leanign his head back in pleasure ...

he takes more initiative, not afraid of grabbign your waist or hips during normal day-to-day activities...it becomes such a visible change that his parents are wondering what happened.

Percy becomes more and more confident in himself.

his favourite position is honestly anything really, he isnt picky. but if I had to choose one, I would say the position where his s/o is laying down on their stomach and hes ontop behind them.

he forces eyecontact, that's all I will say.

he frowns if they try to control their voice, he hates it and will grab their hands away. or do it harder just for them to not be able to hold back.

has tan lines dont ask where ...

handsy and grabby but it depends on what position they're doing and the timing, honestly it's pretty random.

whenever he licks his lips its pretty audible, you can just hear it from across the room.

quirks an eyebrow (not to be judgemental) if you say you're too shy, because you're both naked at this point sooooo. but not pushy.

wants to get to know your body: fingering, touching you anywhere, making out.

Im sorry i need to add on that i feel like hes the type of guy that would actually enjoy standing sex. Like his partner gripping the kitchen counter or the wall while hes behind. I feel like he loves to get a nice rhythm going and the sound of his balls slapping against them, the obscene wet noises coming from their genitals, the panting and moaning from the both of them, his fingers turning white from gripping their hips (he's trying to hold himself back), his mouth hanging open supressing his voice (he has a bad habit of holding his breath while doing this so when he finally breathes he's panting loudly), him grinding into the person to pause (again, hes about to cum), he wants to keep going for as long as he can, the idea of milking and dragging out an orgasm is his favourite way to do it. And when his partner finally lets out a long moan when they reached their climax, they unfortunately missed how Percy threw his head back and yelled in pleasure too when he came. I swear the walls slightly vibrated when he finished with that moan, his father is the earthshaker after all....

[l0serloki]

First Kisses!

(Chamber, Phoenix, Reyna, Iso)

You get your first kiss with some of the Val agents!

masterlist

Chamber :

Chamber was shocked. You two had been flirting for quite a while but when he had never expected you to tell him you had never had a kiss. 

“You want me to believe someone as gorgeous as you has never been kissed?” He laughs it off at first, taking in your blushed splendor.

“Never.” You confirm with a little laugh. His hand makes its way across your cheek.

“May I fix that for you darling?” His voice is suave and his eyes shine through his glasses. Always so calculating. 

You could feel your heart beat out of your chest. It took everything in you to even mumble out a quick ‘yes’.

“I’m honored I am your first.” Chamber whispers in your ear before he leans in, his lips meeting yours. It was everything you had ever expected it to be. His lips were soft and moved gently as you learned the pace. By the time he had pulled away you were left breathless.

"You are a fast learner." He smiles as his thumb rubs at your cheek.

"And you are a good teacher."

Phoenix :

Phoenix and you were talking about random things from your guys childhood when the topic came up.

“I had my first kiss when I was thirteen.” He laughs and your eyes widen. You knew you were in the minority of people who hadn’t been kissed but.. thirteen?! That seemed so young!

“What? When was your first kiss?” He poked at you and you could feel the tension start to rise.

“Uh…” You sigh and a wicked grin appears on his face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a kiss.” His smug look turns into one of shock when you slowly nod your head no.

“Right.. Well I think we gotta fix that.” He huffs as he reaches his hand out for your waist. “May I?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Go on then.” You roll your eyes but you can’t help but feel pleased. If you wanted to have your first kiss with anyone it would be Phoenix. You trusted him and knew he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.

His lips pressed against yours as his warm hand rubbed lightly at your waist. As soon as it started it left, leaving you almost.. disappointed?

“Want another?” Phoenix grins at your look and cocks his head. Sly bastard.

Reyna :

“Let me give you a little kiss.” Reyna teased as her hand wiped at the crumbs on your lips. You could feel yourself grow nervous at the implication. You liked Reyna a lot. But you had never crossed that line with her. Frankly, you had never crossed that line with anyone.

“Y-you don’t have to.” You stutter out and she only coos at your embarrassment. 

“Do you not want one?” She asks and you don’t know how to respond. You do but if you tell her this is your first will she think you were childish?

“I do I just..” You stop yourself as you grow even more nervous.

“This is your first?” She grabs your hand and rubs it soothingly. You only nod as her smile grows.

“Then let me teach you how to kiss. You’ll like it, don't worry.” She breathes out as her lips meet yours. It’s a feeling like none other. You feel your body light up as she cradles you softly. 

“Just a few more, hmm?” She muses as she moves back in.

Iso :

You were listening to music together on his bed after a long mission. He had never played this music before and it almost felt like he had curated the playlist for you. You stared up at the ceiling with him as the melody continued to play. You could feel his gaze on you and you turned.

His eyes bore holes into your head and you suddenly felt nervous. It felt like he could see everything.

“Y/N, I don’t want to ruin our friendship but I really like you.” He says confidently and your eyes widen. You had liked him for a while but never dared to say anything.

“I like you too.” You choke out and a smile appears on the mans face. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and you could feel yourself squirm. If you thought too much into it you would back out.

“Do it.”

He takes your word and pulls you closer to him, his lips melting against yours. You close your eyes as you let yourself relax at the new sensation. You had finally had your first kiss. And with Iso for that matter.

You two finally broke the kiss to come up from air. His hand stayed against your arm as he just smirked.

“You’re a good kisser.” He whispers out and you feel pride fill your body.

“Thanks, it's my first time.” You grin and his jaw drops to the floor.

“What?!”

[dusterbishop]

have you come here to rescue me (all of this can be broken)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.7k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. thank you for all the kind comments and likes! i'm happy i could share this with such a talented fandom.

part one. || part two.

You and Gambit meet before, eh?

Many times

Mais, pleasure’s mine, chér. Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman

You draw your next card at random, and find yourself flat on your back, the back of your head still slick with the blood that pools beneath you. The hit from behind splintered your skull, but this body merely festers with a fading migraine. It is the closest you could get to avoiding death without skipping from this reality entirely. The pain has to keep you anchored, because you can’t count on Gambit to know what to do to keep you here.

Gambit, for his part, stares down at you. He looks like your Remy, which seems like such a strange thought to have. Of course he looks like Remy LeBeau. That is who he is in every lifetime. And yet it makes perfect sense that you halt upon this revelation for the very same reason.

Every Gambit is Remy LeBeau, and yet this one looks like Remy. He has the same strong jawline, the same furrow of his brow, the same black-rimmed red irises. He towers over you, the line of his shoulders set back and perplexed, at least until he crouches down to be closer to your level. Every movement is fluid, graceful. No sign of pain or hesitation. No snarl of distrust or blank expression of disinterest.

Found ya’, chér.

You would laugh if the back of your skull wasn’t just recently smashed in, new body or not. The daze of death’s lingering touch keeps you still as you stare back up at him. He had promised you would meet again, hadn’t he? In another lifetime, at least, he had. You are not the same body that he had been in love with, and yet some part of you can still smell the smoke in the air and feel the buzzing of kinetic lightning across your skin.

He is not your Remy. Not even if he’s looking at you with that same curious intensity. Gamblers could never refuse the call of the cards, and you have a stacked deck.

“Watch it, Cajun,” you tell him. Your voice is scratchy, grating the back of your throat. That explains the weariness in your joints, then. This version of your body is sick in some way. “I know how to wave a stick.”

A knowing laugh escapes him. “Oui, saw ya’ wit’ it. Don’ threaten Gambit wit’ a good time.”

Right, the flirting. Of all the swamp-dwelling boys you could have ended up entangled with, you just had to choose the one with that damned silver tongue. This version of Gambit is no different than the thousands of others you have witnessed in terms of that, at least. Perhaps thousands was even a conservative estimate. How many times have you crossed lives only to find a stranger wearing the face of the man you love?

God, you’re tired of it all. You don’t think you can handle another Gambit right now.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh. “I’m not staying long.”

“S’il vous plait, you should.” He’s smiling, but you know that look in his eyes. Your gaze falls to the inner folds of his coat. You can barely make out the stitched lining where he keeps his cards, but you know that its there. He always had a habit of stitching the pockets in the same spot. Your Remy liked to command full control of the kitchen table to spread out his coat and ensure straight stitching. The cats liked it, too. You would come home to find them all clustered at the table, Remy idly scratching Oliver’s chin while he assessed his work, the other two boys stretched out languidly with them.

Gambit notices your attention, and his smile goes flat. “Where’ve you been my life, eh?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back. The fatigue starts to settle deep in your bones. Maybe this body wasn’t sick when you borrowed it. Maybe this is just the effects of your time-skipping leeching over to another form. Your body feels like its burning a low-grade fever. “I don’t want to argue with you, Gambit.”

“Argue?” He looks almost offended at the mention of underlying tension. “Mon chér, you wound me. Dis is a civil conversation, non?”

“Don’t you get tired of talking?” You know he doesn’t. The two of you have spent so many hours sparring both in the danger room and verbally. He likes to make you take the backfoot in both fighting rings. At least, Remy did. This Gambit seems… off.

He almost seems familiar.

“Not when I’m talkin’ to you,” his smile edges with that coy charm. “Why don’ you tell Gambit about your travels?”

It feels like dunking your head beneath tumultuous ocean waves. Your gaze jolts to his eyes. His biggest tell had always been the way his pupils expand, consuming the ringed red of his irises. In some light, at some times, it almost looked as if he didn’t have irises at all. Just an all-consuming gaze of ink-black.

He looks that way, now, staring down at you. Black-eyed and smiling like a rogue, his elbows perched idly on the curve of his crouched knees, hands freely dangling between you. Unarmed, almost, if not for the weight of cards pressed against the cuff of his sleeves. That brand of stitching is new. Your Remy would have been absolutely delighted to see that sort of innovation as much as he would have groaned about not doing it himself.

“Ace up your sleeve,” you say instead. Your head is rattling with a desperate panic. How does he know that you can travel?

Gambit flicks his wrist, the air rushes, and a splayed set of cards stare back at you. Four of a kind. A handful of aces, in fact. Your Remy would be in absolute stitches over it.

“Some, oui,” he says. He looks just as pleased with himself. He always did like to be the smooth-talker. The air whirs with quiet trepidation, charging, turning metallic in the back of your mouth. One of his brows raises the same moment you half-raise your arm, reflecting the same suit of cards back to him. His fingers reluctantly slide closed on empty air.

“So do I,” you tell him. You hold steady when he goes to take them back from you and nearly yank your arm out of reach when his fingers close over your wrist instead. He’s wearing his gloves, but even the slight warmth of his skin pressed against yours makes your mouth go cotton-dry.

“Houdini,” he remarks.

“Not quite,” you whisper.

“Non,” he agrees. He studies your hand for a long moment. The cards are his, of course. You had shifted time just enough to reach across it and claim your prize. Nothing more than a parlor trick in the light of what you have done lately. What is a suit of cards in the face of endless, staggering realities? If you don’t like the way a restaurant cooks a dish, you can cross time until you find the same dish cooked to mind-numbing perfection. If you miss the city bus because it showed up three minutes early, you can change lifetimes to delay the driver by five minutes, the extra two minutes only for good measure.

If you lose one Remy LeBeau, why not venture out to find him again?

And again?

And again.

You know the answer, now. Maybe part of you always did, yes, but the answer is staring you in the face. You cannot ignore him any longer. You cannot skip timelines and pretend that there will never be a Remy like yours again. He was yours because he was not perfectly brought up as a child and ended up with some nine-to-five office job and a three-bedroom home with a white picket fence. That Remy does not have an interest in a strange paradox such as yourself. Neither does the Remy LeBeau that ends up being a schoolteacher, or a stay at home dad, or a volunteer at an animal shelter.

Your Remy was imperfect, and that was why he was the only version of himself that you could love.

This version of Remy LeBeau is still holding onto you. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He’s holding you fast to keep you with him, not to hurt you. You’re too tired to attempt to escape. Every muscle in your body feels leaden and overworked. That’s the other answer demanding your attention, but you let the revelation slip from its leash and ignore it.

“I know what you are, chér .” His grip doesn’t change, but there’s a dangerous riptide swelling in his tone. “What you do.”

“Wayfarer,” you say. It feels flimsy to say it like this, laying flat on your back, Gambit poised gracefully beside you. Remy had been rather nonplussed with the title when you first told him about it. Non, mon coeur, you are Wildcard. Not even Gambit knows your next move.  

“You travel, d’accord?” With the hand still holding you fast, he rubs the calloused pad of his thumb against the rapid flutter of your pulse. It’s nearly enough to make you flicker out of time itself, consequences be damned. His next words are a wistful purr. “You can leave.”

You aren’t sure why the surprise that lances through you hurts so much. Of course, he isn’t your Remy. You know this. He may smile and banter and touch you as kindly as Remy does — as he did, past tense, it’s all beyond your grasp now — but that does not make you something for him to cherish.

It does, however, make you something to use.

“I am always here,” you start, settling into this waltz slowly. This was the other part of your existence that used to confuse Remy. Some part of you hardly understood it, either. You don’t know how every part of a jet plane or automobile works either, though, so it doesn’t phase you much anymore. You had tried to explain it with the T.V. analogy, like your other versions were playing on different screens even if you aren’t tuned in, but that only served to confuse him more. He did enjoy your choice of explanation in some way, at least, by fully indulging in references from his favorite T.V. shows. The conversation had derailed into you hitting him with a pillow, and then you had both unraveled into a different sort of banter.

Not that Remy ever let you get the last word, though. Tuning the channel, he had said seriously, as you had writhed beneath his touch in a breathless rush. Smart-mouthed, smooth-talking swamp boy.

“Some part of me stays here. A variant,” you continue. Gambit waits, those slivered-red irises trained intently on your expressions. How strange to have him staring at you with such suspicion. You could never lie well to Remy LeBeau no matter the version you stumbled across. You could hold back, yes, but he would always know anyway. You have learned to stop hiding from him. It is inevitable that you will admit your life to him in some way, either by choice or by necessity.

“I am here,” you say. “Like I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Paris, reading the morning newspaper, playing the crossword. I can see the empty grid in my head. I know the clues.”

There’s a familiar furrow in Gambit’s brow. You’re suddenly glad he’s holding your hand before you end up surrendering to the urge to reach out and smooth it away. Not your Remy. A touch from you is not the sort he hungers for.

“Paris, eh?” He presses his thumb to your pulse. You wonder if he feels the leap in your heart beat at the touch. “Wha’s got you wandering da Void, then?”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you admit. “I got… reset, I guess. My mind went to the next version of my body available.”

“Reset sounds awfully dire, I t’ink.” He gives you a pointed look. “Wha’s got you?”

For one long, awful moment, you almost tell him the terrible truth. You almost tell him that you went looking for a version of him that was familiar enough to soothe the gaping hole in your heart. That you found a Gambit that was witty and kind despite his shitty upbringing, one that liked to make you laugh and could keep up with the practice drills you still put yourself through. A Gambit that wasn’t afraid that you would one day vanish and be replaced by some version of yourself that he didn’t love.

You want to tell him that you found a Gambit that you had wanted to keep safe, and he was shot in the back trying to do the same for you. You tore yourself apart to take down the men that did it to him. You died with him and you still woke up within one breath and the next. You had to wake up and hear his voice, except this is not the Gambit that died because of you, this version does not know what he holds onto so tightly.

You want to tell him that three other versions of Remy LeBeau died just as terribly, and you just keep spinning the roulette wheel, and you just keep living.

“That version of me died,” you say. “Shot in the stomach.”

He’s looking at you as if he has never seen such a phenomenon. You suppose, technically, he hasn’t. He used to be one of the lucky ones that didn’t know you even existed. There goes that winner’s streak.

“Do’ya have t'die to… reset?”

You think about lying again. God, you wish you could. “Not always.”

He raises a brow at that, but you don’t offer to elaborate. Instead, you let the cards in your hand release from this reality with a soft whir of energy. Your head feels stuffed with cotton, or perhaps rocks. Maybe this is your mind finally burying itself alive in rebellion of your time-skipping antics.

“Tell ya what, chér.” His fingers loosen their grip on your wrist only to tangle with your own, intertwining your hands. Your breath catches. It’s the only split-second warning you have before he hauls you up to your feet, one hand entangled with yours, the other supporting the small of your back to keep you balanced. You have to shut your eyes against the vertigo that thunders in your head.

“Don’t die,” he continues. “Paris ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, hein? No reason to go dere.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” you grit out. You think you might throw up. Or pass out. Your free hand grips onto the lapel of Gambit’s coat hard enough for your fingers to grow stiff. His hand on your back is a solid, anchoring weight. It supports you more than you would like. Relying on him could be a dangerous game.

Still, your power is a raw, aching nerve burning through your veins. You couldn’t switch without tearing yourself apart, not as exhausted as you are. Considering that this Gambit hasn’t driven a knife into your back, either literal or figurative, it’s easier not to resist when he makes a soft hum and sweeps you into a bridal carry. You keep your eyes closed, and try to ignore the burn at the back of them. A part of you waits for his sound of pain, the impact of bullets thudding into his back. Another part wonders if he will be vaporized from existence by the TVA, just a second before your hands meet.

The third, quieter part of your mind just thinks: Remy.

Gambit, the fourth ace in your suit, doesn’t do any of those things. He adjusts your weight, testing to see if you will squirm out of his grasp, then he begins to walk. He’s strangely quiet. It’s almost a relief in the wake of your draining, familiar conversation. How many times will you have to reintroduce yourself to a Gambit? What could you possibly offer this fate-curious, battle-wary version of the man you love? It’s the sort of question that makes you reconsider your choice to stay.

Stay with a Gambit with ulterior motives, or move on to another life with no guarantee of who will meet you there? Well. When you put it like that, there’s no other option at all.

And, as if he can read your mind, Gambit begins to explain.

[bunnisari]

can you write one when its like, reader x plug!connie where they like toxic off and on, but he still spoils her and all that because they in love fr. he's like a real jealous type and is lowkey overprotective. but they always together and spend alot of time with eachother

No matter what you were always gonna be Connie’s.

No matter how many times you guys “broke up” you still belonged to him and everyone knew.

It was hard to strive as a now “single” woman. All of your old hoes were wiped off the face of the earth somehow (thanks to Connie). Any new guy that has the potential of being just a one night stand was scared away by a pair of emotionless eyes that stared you down from across the club.

Every night out with your girlfriends was ruined, any attempt to hook up with someone. ruined

Connie was everywhere you were. You blocked him on every social media, but he still created more accounts just watching your page. He also had eyes on you everywhere. You’d often see some of his most trusted guys at the mall, updating him on your safety.

His friends are so faithful to him it’s frustrating. Your bestfriends were his bestfriends, due to the fact that you were always around you all just became so close!

But when you have a girls night out with Mikasa and Sasha they are always cockblocking for connie.

“That guy was a dick Y/N”

“I dunno maybe you should just get back with Con”

Everyone around you did nothing but encourage you to get back with him, even your parents!

They love having him around and he’s excellent help in the kitchen!

Connie is fairly toxic but you won’t really notice until you think about it.

He’s got himself so involved in your life and everything you do, people can’t help but ask about him! And that was what he intended to do.

There was no possible way you could forget him, he was everywhere. You broke up with Connie but Connie didn’t break up with you.

You lasted 35 days and 45 minutes before getting back with Connie. Ever since you “broke up” with Connie, you’ve been focusing on a clothing line you’ve been wanting to release. You gave up on trying to go out and find simple one night stands. You were fairly sex deprived but didn’t give in. Nothing a vibrator couldn’t fix.

You were over men and their stupid ass inconsiderate ass feelings. Connie didn’t stop taking care of you though. You’d get random paypals and cash apps from Armin or Eren. $850 - FOR from Connie :)

You still were extremely grateful though. This particular night you decided to go to a party Ony was throwing. You were going out for yourself tonight, plus you haven’t popped out in a while gotta keep these bitches hatin

You walked through the entrance of the house, “Way 2 Sexy” blasting through the speakers.

“Heyy sexyy” Sasha drags out as she wraps her arm around you, holding a cup in her hand. You hug her back with a smile on your face, ready to get wasted.

After many mixed drinks and a blunts worth inside of you. You stumbled to a bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You lip synced to the song that was playing from downstairs, checking yourself out in the mirror. Your eyes were red and low, all your movements sloppy.

As you re-applied your lip gloss, a deep voice spoke out to you.

“You’re avoiding me” You jumped at the sudden voice, thinking you were in the bathroom alone. You looked back in the corner of the bathroom, seeing Connie lean on the wall. He looked good as always.

“Connie just go” You mumbled in irritation, not wanting to give into the man in your drunken state.

“What did I tell you about watching your surroundings mama, hmm?” Connie stepped closer to you, “Didn’t even notice me following you. How are you supposed to stay safe princess” Connie fake pouted at you, looking down at you with pity. You could reject him all you want but your face told it all, you missed him so much.

“Sshut upp” You slurred, attempting to walk around him and out of the door.

“Talk to me” Connie’s hand gripped your waist, pulling you back in-front of him. “There’s nothing to talk about, we areee overrrr” Your own eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry mami,” Connie cupped your chin, making you look up at him, “Just take me back. I promise I won’t fuck up anymore. I swear i’m going crazy without you, I can’t stop thinking about you. Just please come back home with me” Connie rushed out, the tattooed drug dealer fought the urge to cry. You’ve been ignoring him like crazy. A part of him felt like you were really done with him and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Okay Connie, I will” You nodded, letting your emotional state take over. Your arms wrapped around Connie, just wanting to feel him. “I’m gonna go home with you”

The next day you were sitting on Connie’s lap at Eren’s house. You sat pressing sticky kisses up and down Connie’s neck while he counted a few bands, a joint resting in his mouth.

Eren rolled his eyes as he walked pass you two on the couch. As annoying as it was, everything felt back normal again. You were right where you were supposed to be, with connie <3

thinking about toxic!yandere!friend group now but in a platonic way

[eccentricwritingbaby]

meet-cute

part one! part two part three

lando norris x fem!reader

summary - y/n y/l/n just needed a coffee when she walked into the shop, she didn’t expect to also walk out with a date. 

masterlist

-

you had just recently moved to monaco in order to get away from the ordinary life that you found yourself having. you were a person who needed adventure and opportunity which just wasn’t happening in your hometown. you maneuvered your way through the streets in order to reach your favorite coffee spot for your much needed afternoon pick me up. once inside, you patiently waited in line until it was your turn to order. 

“double espresso with almond milk, please,” you spoke quickly to the barista taking your order.

“no problem,” she smiled as you gave your cash to her while leaving the rest of your change in the tip jar. you then moved right over to the side in order to wait for your brew to be finished up. after a few moments the barista called out your order and you reached over to grab it. by doing so your hand was covered over by anothers and you briefly pulled your hand away.

“i guess there's two people in this shop with great taste,” you heard a swift british accent say to you.

“i guess so,” you chuckle, “i apologize you most likely ordered before me that's most likely yours,” you speak to the handsome stranger. 

“please take it, I don't mind waiting,” he says to you while eyeing you a bit, “but only on one condition,” he adds.

“and what may that condition be?” you question with a teasing smile, enjoying the attention from the attractive man.

he moves slightly closer to you and continues with his proposition, “that you wait with me for my order as well,” he speaks with a smile.

“well kind sir, you’ve just made yourself a deal,” you wink while grabbing the coffee and taking a seat at a nearby table. he moves over to sit at the seat across from you while taking you in.

“have i seen you somewhere before?” you ask, looking at him a bit longer.

he gives a quiet laugh while proceeding to say, “i do not believe we’ve met, love. i would’ve remembered a face like yours. i’m lando, by the way,”

“y/n,” you reply, “its lovely to meet you lando,” 

after many more words exchanged and lando’s - technically yours - coffee appearing, you sadly had to make your way out of the coffee shop and into your plans for the day ahead. you and lando begin to exit the shop, still laughing here and there at different inside jokes you had come up with in the mere hour that you had together. once you reach a certain navy lamborghini, lando halts his movements and speaks.

“well this is me,” he sighs, “but i do hope we can see each other soon?”

“i’d really enjoy that, lando,” you say as his heart feels as though it has skipped a beat with the sugary way you say his name. 

“then how about tomorrow night? are you available for a date?” he asks quickly.

“i don’t know, i may have other plans with a random stranger i met at a different coffee shop,” you tease.

“ha-ha very funny,” he bites back, “what if i grab your number and we sort this out later,” you smile and hand over your phone while he loads his number in.

“well i have to leave, but it was very nice meeting you, lando. hopefully we see each other again very soon,” you smile back up at him while he gives you his signature smile right back.

“same for you, y/n. i’ll call you,”

“i’ll be waiting,” you give him one last wink and begin your walk away. he was enjoying the view of you walking away when your movements quickly halted and you turned slowly on your heel. 

“holy shit, mclaren!” you look back at him and begin laughing, “that’s why you looked familiar!” you said between laughs, “wow i am so dim, i’m so sorry,”

he gives you a shy smile while nodding, “i actually am quite happy you didn’t catch on, i appreciate some normalcy sometimes,”

“well in that case, if you want something normal, you’re going to have to work for that date, mister,” you reply while giving a sly wink and continuing on your way. lando smiled and hopped into his car. he would definitely be working for his date with you, but it would very much be worth it - and he couldn’t wait. 

[physalian]

When To Keep Your Writing Stiff (pt 7)

Part 6

Part 1

Gonna shoutout a specific fanfic, “Salvage” (ATLA) for writing that is even leaner than mine is, and mine has zero fat whatsoever. This was really good. I particularly like how some scenes were only 2 or 3 lines long as an example of what I’m going for here.

When I say “stiff” in the following examples I’m specifically talking about a lot of the same syntax, few similes and metaphors, few ‘said’ synonyms, very little, well, “life” in the prose. And this can be good in a few situations.

1. Your narrator is in shock

Shock doesn’t all look the same, but the kind of shock I mean is the one where the person is really quiet and un-emotive, they’re probably not speaking or reacting much to whatever catastrophe just happened and probably not responding to their name or anything spoken to them. Their body is pretty much going “uhhhhhhhhh factory reset!” when whatever it is, is too much to process.

A asks them a question. Once. Twice. B stares ahead. There’s a brown stain on the wall that looks like a thumb.

So if they’re narrating, they’re probably going to be giving the absolute bare minimum, need-to-know information and won’t be thinking about the best adjectives and adverbs. Especially if you normally write with fluffier prose, a jarring shift like this can really help sell the shock and dissociating of the character, something so traumatizing that it effects how the story is told.

2. Your narrator is depressed

Somewhere between New Moon’s 4 pages of just Months to show Bella did absolutely nothing in a depression rot and normal prose (though it was effective, particularly in the movie when they could draw out the words on the screen for longer and did the whole spin-around-her-depression-chair montage).

January came. It rained a lot.

They’ll probably either narrate very thinly, or listlessly. They might focus on a random detail and start going on a long ramble about that one detail that isn’t at all important, but it’s either all they can think about or all that can move them to feel anything in this moment, like:

On the bedside table, that coffee mug still sat there in a thin sheet of dust. What had been liquid now long since dry and gluey. It still sits there, collecting cat fur.

This might be the best place for sentences that all sound and flow exactly the same, but use it sparingly.

3. Your narrator is having a panic attack or trapped in a traumatic situation

Different from shock in that while they are physically capable of moving and interacting, they can’t let themselves describe what they’re seeing and feeling in grand detail. Maybe they’re moving through the horrific aftermath of a battle and all they can describe is the mud under their feet and how it squelches. Or they simply say that “there’s bodies everywhere” because looking too long or too hard at who those bodies belonged to is too much.

4. You’re writing something that has incredibly fast pacing

This post was inspired by a fic I just wrote that spanned about 5 months in about 18k words. Narrative was skipping days ahead between paragraphs at some point as my character was processing the end of an abusive relationship. It sped up and slowed down where necessary, but compared to its sequel that I also just finished (22k words across 7 days), I’d covered a whole month in about 2 sentences in the first one.

See nearly any part of Salvage (or my fics if you feel like it)

What happened in that month didn’t matter, only what was before and what’s different now and how this character realizes how their life is slowly changing, some things they never noticed that are suddenly right in their face or things that quietly slipped away.

—

TLDR; sometimes the lack of emotion and sensory details and frenetic, dynamic syntax is the point, that can sell the reader on the narrator’s mental state far better than picking the juiciest adverbs. If it’s so impactful to them that the physical telling of the story is changed, you’ve done your job.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Miles-42/Prowler Miles x GN!Reader

based off this post

@tainted-liquor hopefully this is okay 🥺

TW: Fluff, Kind of Short, No Plot, Mention of Ganke

____________________________________________________________

"You're so frustrating"

You looked up to see your boyfriend, Miles G. Morales, looking down at you with his hands on his hips. He was scowling, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Whats your problem?" You huffed, giving him an annoyed look before waving him off and looking back down at the book you were reading.

He leaned down and tilted your chin up to force you to look at him, cupping your face in between his hands in the process. He squinted slightly as he looked directly into your eyes, eyebrows still furrowed. "Why the hell do you have to be so cute?"

You blinked out of confusion. His eyes were darting in between yours as he stared, deep in thought. "You good?" you asked, lip twitching as you tried not to laugh at how he was acting. What a dork.

"I'll be good once you answer my question."

He was dead serious. You snorted at this and pushed his hands off your face. "Stop playing"

"I'm not messing around!" he said, expression softening slightly. He sat down next to you, pulling you toward him as he pressed his face into your neck, effectively pushing your book out of your hands. "Hey-" you started to protest, but were interrupted by his voice.

"Stop tryna play hard to get" his voice was muffled as he spoke into your skin, arms wrapping around your waist. "its pissing me off"

You chuckled softly at this, resting your head against his, a slight smile spreading across your face. "I was reading that, dork"

"Read later. I'm here right now"

"You're always here"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes. Clingy ass mf-

He looked at you, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes again. You raised an eyebrow at him, biting back a laugh at his expression. He still looked mad.

"Who gave you the right?"

"What right?"

"The right to look so damn pretty all the time?"

"Has Ganke been reading you pick-up lines or something?" You asked with a snort, pressing your forehead against his.

He shrugged, closing his eyes at your movement, keeping his arms wrapped around you. "Where's this even coming from?" you whispered.

"Ion know. You just do stuff to me I guess."

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A/N: This was pretty short but the prompt was also pretty short, so I think I did okay!! If there's anything that stands out to you or anything you think I should change, pls let me know!! <3

I genuinely have no idea how to write this guy 😭

He seems so average I'm sorry, like he'd act like most guys there's nothing defining about him that we know about because he had like 5 or 6 lines in the movie so I don't know how to write him in a way thats still accurate to his character and I don't wanna headcanon with some random personality cuz it would feel off to me yk.