#lousie writes

[shyoyos]

note debuting with samu hcs yayyy likes & reblogs appreciated^^ written for taliaaa :p

osamu miya who, contrary to popular belief, is no less crazier than atsumu

osamu miya who has days where he wishes he’d gone pro to play along his brother like the good old days

osamu miya who will always plate your food before his

osamu miya who gives you the first bite whenever you share a meal

osamu miya who always asks you “did you eat yet?” whenever you meet up

osamu miya who still has his high school jerseys folded neatly somewhere in his closet

osamu miya who tries to attend every match he can, whether its for the msby black jackals or the japan volleyball league, just to cheer on his brother

osamu miya who hates to admit setters are cool

osamu miya who’s love language is acts of service

osamu miya who plays volleyball from time to time, just to not get rusty if he ever gets the chance to play with atsumu again

osamu miya who’s a gramma’s boy

osamu miya who kisses any crumbs off your lips

osamu miya who’s very clingy in his sleep, an arm (preferably two) always hugging your waist

taglist @daetko

[diorchids]

stepbrother!luke in the car !

“it’s too tight in here!” you yell as you settle on to your step brother's lap in the packed car, dress riding up as you try and get comfortable.

“shut your mouth and sit still, stop whining about everything.” luke groaned while his hands rested on your waist, holding you there as you protested. your parents ignored the both of you, your daily banter becoming normal. you shifted your hands while his hands were still planted tightly on your waist. he loved the feeling of wrapping his hands around your waist, having you under him, controlling your every move, and keeping you in place.

luke loved this. sure, it was perverse to think of his sister like this, but what’s wrong with it? you obviously don’t mind, you entertain it, even.

your dress was ridden up to your hips as you sat on him, strained cock pushing against his slacks as you grumbled.

luke’s disgusting, holding you down on him as he mindlessly rubs against you. he grinds his bulge up against your cunt as you try not to drool and cry out, digging your fingers into his thighs as you stupidly move your hips back and forth on your brothers disgusting cock.

he smirks as he quietly rubs his cock up against your sweet cunt while your mother drives. he slides a hand into your dress, groping your breast as he steals kisses and whispers perverse things into your ear.

“y-you’re a perv, you know that, right?” you whisper as you quietly moan and let your mouth fall open. luke’s hand slides down to your sensitive cunt, his fingers finding their way beneath your underwear. he rubs your clit in slow circles, making you moan softly and wiggle on his lap. “might let dad know—” your parents still oblivious to what you and your step brother are doing, chatting and humming to the music playing, “might let him know you like this, don’t you?” he asks, whispering.

“n-no, luke, don’ tell…”

luke whispers dirty words into your ear as he continues to rub your swollen nub. he ignores your protests, knowing that you secretly love the illicit thrill of getting caught by your mother.

“no—no more, luke…” you whisper before your parents get out the car, going inside the house, completely ignoring their children still in the car. “gotta get inside, c’mon…” your desperate attempts at stopping his fingers rubbing your soaked cunt.

luke continues to tease your sensitive parts, his fingers moving faster as he watches you squirm in his lap. your protests just turn him on more. “you're so fucking hot when you're trying to resist me. gonna fuck you so good.”

at first, you entertained it. this was fun, sure, but he was serious.

he unzips his slacks underneath you, strained cock pushing against his boxers before he pulls it out, hissing when the cold air hits his wet, fat tip.

luke wraps your hand around his cock and begins to thrust into it, making you gasp as he fucks your hand. “bet you want me to slip my cock inside you right now. wouldn’t that be fun?” you didn’t answer.

he takes that as a yes and wastes no time. he pulls your panties aside and thrusts his cock deep into your wet hole. he moans as he buries himself inside you, his hands grabbing onto your hips as he begins to thrust inside. “fuck,”

luke thrusts upwards as he watches you bite your lip and close your eyes in pleasure. he whispers in your ear. “god, you're so fuckin’ wet. you love this, don't you?”

he ends up cumming inside your tight hole, thick ropes rushing deep inside of you as he holds you in place, making you take it all as you moan and cry out.

maybe he’ll come into your room while you’re sleep, or maybe when you’re showering, he’ll hop inside for a bit.

[thoughtfulstudentsalad]

Hak spitting bars in the Viz Translation

Also damn Hak calling her "Yona"?

[merakiui]

SKULLY HAS RAIDED MERA'S BLOG!!!???

Skully over shining Zuzu?

UNFORTUNATELY...... yes,,, (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) WAAAA I AM SO SORRY, ZUZU!!!! My heart is just too big and I fell for the dead guy with his Victorian rizz and kiss addiction. I couldn't help it...... he charmed me. This obsession is terrible, dear Izuna!!!! OTL he's completely taken over my brain,,, a parasite that I can't shake!! >:(

He's so precious,,, my beloved King of Halloween, oh how I adore you most ardently. <3 I wish him nothing but peace and happiness forever hehe.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I wish I could let everyone who's ever commented on one of my fics know just how much it means to me.

I'd be willing to bet a lot (if not even most) of other fic writers have a lot of the exact same struggles and worries I do. A lot of writers have this chronic fear that our stuff just isn't good. I worry that people only read my stuff out of pity. I obsess over kudos ratios, no matter how hard I try not to. I go through phases of feeling demoralized when working on a multi-chapter fic because you can pour your heart into it and there will be times when it feels like no one cares. I can get sad when it feels like my fics just won't get traction. I post so much because I love writing, primarily, but also because it feels like my attempt to constantly try and get ahead of that feeling that my writing is just garbage. I'd put good money on pretty much every fic author out there being able to identify with at least some of these things.

But the really, really excellent thing about ao3 - it is a very, very damn good archive. And one of the things it's very easy to view are comments. Whenever I start feeling these things, I'm able to go to my inbox or click on any fic I'm proud of, and I'll be able to find a bunch of lovely little letters just for me! The best cure to those feelings are always finding a few comments that soothe those insecurities - a comment that catches on to some bit of symbolism you're proud of, a long comment that someone put time into because they like your work, a string of fire emojis on a pwp.

It's no exagerration to say that if you've left a comment on any one of my fics, I've probably read it back over dozens of times while smiling and kicking my feet. So if you ever worry that you're not bringing much to the fandom outside of comments and cheerleading, let me be the first one to assure you: every comment you ever leave is more valuable than you'll ever know!

[hansmannette]

oh take me back to the night we met

[str0yberries]

“We need more complex female characters” Y’all could barely handle her and her relationship with him.

[pigeonstab]

I think the College AU fics are gonna be more like snippets than anything? Cause I can't figure out how to write more than 750 ± words lol.

I think it's mainly because I seem to write separate scenes rather than actual stories.

[greenticklerdreams]

Hey you! I'm so glad we could meet up for lunch. Work has SUCKED this morning. Yours too? Ugh. There must be something in the air today.

... hey. I have an idea that'll cheer us both up. It won't take us that long to eat. How about... we get in the back seat of my car, and I tickle you real quick? ... haha, that got a real smile from you. Clearly, you need it. And I do, too. C'mon, let's go. ... oh, don't worry. I'll set a timer. We won't be back late.

... Okay. We'll have to go fast, but don't worry. We can always do this again tonight once we're off. Consider this a preview. Or a bonus. ... look at you already giggling! I cheered you up and we haven't even done anything yet.

All right. Timer set. My fingers are primed. You're already squirming. Did you just realize you're trapped in a tight space with a tickle monster? Silly. You'll thank me later.

... we're wasting time. ReadysetGO!!

[citizenerased77]

belldom because it makes me want to curl up in a ball and giggle and scream and laugh and cry and really just react in such a manner that is unfit in response to two middle aged men simply being gay 

[weepingfoxfury]

The man on the radio is back having slept off his late night shenanigans and is busy reading poetry dedicated to the traffic lady. The traffic lady is delighted. Time for a bit of Labi Siffre he says ... 'Watch me when you call my name ... See me sparkle, see me flame.' Another Bank Holiday and more of the usual wet weather. The chef on the radio is in and it's chicken recipes all the way with chorizo rice and artichokes.

Coffee in hand, leaning against the door frame looking at the Primulas. Amazing plants. They've survived every low temperature that's been thrown at them. I like them a lot, they thrive even with a neglectful 'gardener' like myself.

I'm lousy at remembering to water things. Years back, a friend asked me to house sit and 'would I please remember to water the azalea in her lounge.' I was there 2 weeks, and assured her her plant would be well looked after. I read the large yellow Post It Note that said 'please water plant' every day of my stay and said to myself 'I'll do that now.'

I didn't.

Permanently distracted me only looked at the plant the day before she came home. I say plant ... more of a stick by that point, surrounded by dead leaf confetti. Needless to say, I replaced it. Took home the demised azalea and added it's remains to my compost. Smiled to myself when my friend rang and said her beloved plant had never looked so well, and that I must have green fingers.

The irony of me rescuing half dead plants from my local garden centre is not lost on me. From the frying pan into the fire one might say. Just aswell the precipitation Gods of the Emerald Isle keep an eye on my purchases ... and I doubt they'll need a Post It Note reminder ... but maybe I'll leave one out for them ... just in case ...

[greensaplinggrace]

willow's corruption arc is one of my favorites like the way she fumbles her relationship with tara and gives in to her worst character traits and allows her ego to cloud her judgement is some of the most honest writing i've ever seen for character development like that

[seoulmatez]

omg hi hello happy sunday :3 i hope u are all well and that the sun has come out to kiss u on the cheeks ! ! ☀️ it’s been a bit so i haven’t checked in recently. . . despite that i hope everyone has been taking care of themselves! ᡣ𐭩

[masteredinstinct]

me, a very normal very casual very demure robert eggers movie enjoyer: hey you heard about that new nosferatu movie or whatever haha

[theweirdoinurhouse]

A lousy new roommate (Part 3 of my "Lowsy" series"

Part 1:

Part 2:

(Reader is not from Miles' Universe, story takes place in a different one. Thought I should mention that-)

The Spot as been regularly visiting your apartment for a month now. It's been quite an experience, hanging out with him. But it wasn't as bad as you thought. One day, he told you he didn't have any place to stay. So you offered him to stay at your place from now on. What could possibly go wrong?

Spider-man crashing into your living room wall is what could go wrong.

Spot told you that morning that he was just going out for a walk. Nothing too bad. You decided you would relax on your couch and watch some tv to pass the time.

That was until Spot randomly teleported into your living room via his portal-holes, panting and clearly out of breath. You stood up from the couch quickly, thoughts racing on why he was in such a state.

Before you could ask him though, the wall with your balcony crumbled as someone burst through it. You stepped back as to not get hit by any flying debris, but Spot was not so fortunate.

You realized the figure that just broke your wall was Spider-man when Spot yelled "Spider-man! Oh my gosh hi! Funny to see you here!"

Spot was dodging Spider-man's punches, portaling his fists somewhere else occasionally. You just stood behind your couch, getting some entertainment from this. You probably wouldn't last five minutes going against Spider-man anyways.

"Give it up Spot! I'm taking you to Miguel whether you like it or not!" Spider-man yelled, trying to throw another fist at Spot, only for it to disappear into his chest.

"Ooo, that tickles!" Spot responds with. You can tell Spider-man is getting annoyed, because he's throwing punch after punch with such force you weren't surprised he crashed your wall effortlessly.

Eventually, you started getting sick of seeing the two fight (if you can even call it that). You stepped out from behind the couch and stood on the cushions. You raised your hands to your mouth, for no reason other than dramatic affect.

"Could you please take this fight elsewhere?! I'm already high in debt, and the broken wall doesn't help!"

Both Spot and Spider-man freeze and turn to you. Spider-man then turned to Spot.

"You put the life of some random stranger in danger just to escape me!"

"I live here! Plus, you were the one following me. So really you put them in danger-"

Before Spot could properly finish, Spider-man man punched him in the face. While Spot was rolling on the floor, holding where his nose would be and "crying", Spider-man turned to you.

"Are you okay ma'am/sir/mx?"

You shook your head.

"No, I'm not okay! You busted my wall and punched my roommate-acquaintance-friend!"

Spider-man was going to respond to your statement, but a portal opening underneath him dropped him out of your living room before he could say anything.

Spot got up from the floor, rubbing his face. He cracked his back, then hands, than neck.

"Jeez, that guy was persistent! Glad he at least saw me as dangerous enough I'd need to be taken in!"

His voice sounded way more happy than you think it should have. He turned to the now open space that acts as a window in your wall. His shoulders slumped, happy mood from earlier dissipating.

"You have some explaining to do," you said, trying to give Spot a harsh look. It was kind of hard because of how pathetic he seemed 24/7.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Guess you're right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You already figured out about him being from a different universe,because he once gifted you car keys and literally said "they're from a different universe".

Wasn't too hard to figure out.

What did shock you though was that this same dude that you offered to stay in your home because he had nothing and reminded you of a wet cat, was also climbing the list of some Spider-people's most wanted list.

While you were surprised by this, Spot was surprised you didn't seem to have much of a reaction. After the surprise fell, he felt relieved that you probably weren't gonna kick him out.

Only deal was that he'd keep the Spider-people away from your apartment, and help rebuild the wall. And he was perfectly fine with that. Anything to be able to stay with the one person that didn't see him as a freak.

You have told him in the past you weren't a huge fan of Spider-man. Proven today, he broke alot of stuff when fighting crime. And he didn't even help all that much when repairing all of it! Just stands there and takes pictures.

Spot was always glad you didn't like Spider-man. Made living with you a lot easier when you both hated the same person! You always had rants late at night about the shared hatred for the super hero.

One of these nights you two were seated on your couch, brand new glass windows letting in some moonlight through the blinds. The movie you two were watching was finishing up, bucket of popcorn empty and on the floor.

You had one blanket over both of your laps, and you had one wrapped around your shoulders. When the end credits popped up you started ranting about the movie. What you liked, what you didn't, your favorite character, you least favorite character.

You and Spot do this after every new movie you two watched. It was a hobby for you now.

"Oh my god the grave scene! I mean was him taking off his shirt even that necessary? I mean good for the fangirls but like-"

You turned your head to look at Spot, curious about his lack of feedback. When you turned to him you saw his head leaned back against the back of the couch. The spot on his face seemed more like a line than a circle now. Kind of squinted.

'Is he sleeping?' you think. He poke his arm softly. When he doesn't move you do it again, but with a small amount of more force. He still doesn't move. You decide to punch his arm as the final test. Nothing

You lean back to your side of the couch. You stare at the tv for a few minutes, seeing the reflection of you and him. He seemed awfully more peaceful when asleep. But you guess everyone is.

You decided you would just leave him be and go to your room for the night. You slipped the blanket around your shoulders off. You stood up and placed the part of the blanket that was on your lap onto Spot, so that he now has the full blanket.

When you took a step to walk towards you room, you heard the softest whisper you have ever heard in your life.

"Don't go please."

You were surprised you even heard it. You look back at Spot, but he was still in the same position as before. All except for the fact his hand was reached over to where you were seated, gently grasping at the cushion. You stood there for a moment, seeing if he would talk again.

All he did was move so that he was laying down, head resting on the pillow on your side of the couch. He grabbed the big blanket he pulled it up to cover his shoulders. He was too tall for your couch, shins and below sticking out over the opposite side of the couch.

You decided you either A). Imagined what he said or B). It wasn't important.

So you waked to your room, got changed, hopped into the bed, than fell asleep. It was a dreamless night. But Spot was dreaming.

Of you.

A/N: I can't write fight scenes to save my life. Also I kind of have writers block, so sorry if this sucked. Thank you all for the support to my previous parts, hope this didn't dissapoint too much. Also not beta-read)

[legolasghosty]

what about #55, maybe for willex :)

Yeah. Um. Hi anon. If you ever see this, please know I am so deeply sorry for how long this took. Life has been a little... *gestures aimlessly at the half packed apartment around me* But Um. Here? I'm so sorry.

Alex groans and sits up. He's been trying to fall asleep for nearly 3 hours now and it refuses to come. He got so desperate that he literally tried counting imaginary sheep. No dice, even after like 231 of the stupid fluff balls. Alex swings his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering when his toes brush the cold linoleum floor, and gathers his focus enough to stay an inch above it. Might as well get a snack if sleep refuses to take him.

He doesn't bother being quiet, Reggie could sleep through a hurricane. Which is good, considering how loud that dog of his snores. But when he opens his bedroom door, the light over the stove is on. And there's someone staring into his fridge. Someone that is definitely not his roommate.

"What the heck!" Alex yelps, stepping back until his heel hits the wall and he stumbles.

The person inspecting his leftover pasta collection bolts upright, turning to stare at him. Alex catches a flash of long, dark hair and high cheekbones and his heartbeat starts racing for a second reason.

"Willie?" he asks, blinking.

"'lex?" Willie slurs, eyes a little unfocused. "'t's like three in the morning, what are you doing in my kitchen?"

"In your-Willie what are you doing in my kitchen!?" Alex demands, confused. Maybe he did fall asleep and this is some kind of crazy dream where his hot next-door neighbor is in his apartment.

"What do you mean?" Willie mumbles. Alex notices his knuckles whitening where they're gripping the fridge door.

"Willie are you okay?" he asks hesitantly.

Willie sort of nods. "Thick as a fiddle," he says slowly.

Alex shakes his head and takes a step closer. "That's not reassuring. What happened?"

"Sam and Jeff were mad at each other," Willie replies, shrugging and glancing back at the fridge.

"Who?" Alex questions.

"Classmates," Willie clarifies. "Think I stopped the fight."

Alex winces at the word 'fight'. He doesn't actually know Willie all that well, what with freezing up every time they bump into each other in the laundry room or something, but they seem like the sort of person to get in the middle of a fight. Physically.

"You should sit down," Alex suggests, approaching slowly. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Sitting is good," Willie mumbles, closing the fridge to look around the dark common area.

Alex blinks and suddenly Willie is on the other side of the room, tripping over an ottoman and crashing down onto his couch. "Woah, Willie, be careful!" he yelps, dashing over.

"'m fine," Willie slurs, rolling over and pulling themselves onto the couch properly "Just a little dizzy."

"Okay no more teleporting for you tonight," Alex decides. "Did you get hit or hexed?"

"Hexed? I think?" Willie offers, brow furrowing. "Don't really remember."

Alex groans. It is way too late to be dealing with this, and of course the healing center won't open till the morning.

"Sorry, didn't mean to come into your place," Willie sighs. "I can leave?"

"Absolutely not," Alex argues immediately. "No way am I leaving you alone like this. Besides, your roommate is a jerk who probably wouldn't enjoy being woken up by you falling on your way to bed."

Willie winces and nods. "You sure?"

"Of course."

Alex drops down onto the end of the couch, beside Willie's feet. He tries to remember what his healing class said about hexes. The darkness seems much more frightening with Willie collapsed and dizzy beside him, even though the light over the oven is still on.

Sure, they might not actually be close, but they're probably not acquaintances anymore either. Alex has never been entirely sure where the line is between 'someone you know' and 'friend'. And if the way his heart rate picks up every time Willie's toes brush his thigh is any indication, he's not sure 'friend' is exactly what he wishes they were anyways. Either way, he cares about Willie and Willie is hurt.

"I think it's a confusion hex," Willie mentions a minute later. Alex glances over, raising his eyebrows in question. "Sam's the one out of them that's good with hexes," they explain, "and confusion ones are his main thing. So that's probably what I got hit with."

Alex nods slowly and pulls out his phone. Thank the stars for the internet. The symptoms he's getting seem to mostly line up with what Willie has been doing and saying since he scared the living daylights (nightlights?) out of Alex ten minutes ago.

"Okay, according to the WaM-HO," Alex reads aloud, "confusion hexes will generally wear off on their own. How long this takes depends on the strength of the caster, lasting anywhere from an hour to two weeks on average."

Willie groans. "I would really like to be able to see straight sooner than next month?"

Alex resists the urge to place a hand on his ankle and squeeze to offer comfort. They're not that close. "Sounds like there's meds and countercharms that can speed things up," he says, skimming the rest of the page. "And I'm guessing your friend isn't a fully trained hexer so I doubt it would last the full two weeks."

"Classmate," Willie corrects. "Not my friend."

Alex frowns and turns off his phone to give Willie his full attention. "Then why were you out with them in the first place?" he asks. Maybe it's too personal a question, but it's 3 in the morning and this whole situation is just a mess so Alex can't bring himself to care that much.

"We had a late exam and a bunch of the guys were going out after to unwind," Willie begins, head drooping to rest against the back of the couch. "I haven't really had a ton of luck making friends in classes so I guess I figured it was a good idea when they asked me."

"Sorry," Alex answers when Willie doesn't continue. "Though if it makes you feel any better, they don't sound like great people to be friends with anyways."

"Yeah, dodged a bullet on that one I guess." Then Willie smirks, setting something aflutter in Alex's stomach. "Just didn't dodge the hex."

Alex lets out a startled chuckle. "Too soon, man," he declares.

"My injury, my jokes," Willie retorts, poking Alex with their foot.

Alex rolls his eyes. "Well rest is probably your best bet on that unmissed hex," he comments, climbing to his feet. "Come on, you can use my bed," he adds, offering Willie a hand up.

"Dude, I'm not taking your bed," Willie protests. "I'll be fine on the couch."

"That couch is barely wide enough for your shoulders," Alex points out. "You falling and cracking your head open isn't going to help anything. I'll sleep out here."

"It's your bed though," Willie responds. "You need to sleep too."

Alex shrugs. "It'll be fine, not like I was doing so hot on that before you got here either."

Willie grabs Alex's hand suddenly, pulling himself up. "Okay then we'll just share."

Alex fights to keep his balance, both from Willie's unexpected weight and from the suggestion. "It's a twin, there's no way we'll both fit," he argues.

"Too bad," Willie says, keeping his hand wrapped around Alex's as he heads for his room.

"Willie hang on," Alex tries as he's pulled along. Darn how standing on air doesn't give him much traction to resist. His cheeks are already heating up at just the thought of sharing his tiny bed with his very attractive (and sweet and funny and thoughtful and-) neighbor, no way is he going to survive it actually happening without a heart attack.

"It'll be fine," Willie says, entering the bedroom.

He finally drops Alex's hand and turns around to sit on the messed up blankets of Alex's bed. Alex can barely make out his face in the dim light from the kitchen, but something seems to soften.

"Look, if it really makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to," Willie adds gently. "But like... if you just don't want to because you think it's going to make me feel weird, it won't."

Alex isn't sure where all the air in his lungs has gotten to. It's definitely not his brain though, because he finds himself nodding. "I'll get the light," he says, ducking out again to hit the switch over the stove.

When he returns to his room and his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just make out Willie lying down in his bed, fumbling with the blankets. Then a hand reaching out towards him. Alex will blame his exhausted brain for it in the morning, but he takes it and settles down beside his neighbor.

It takes them a minute to figure out how to both comfortably fit on the narrow bed. By the time Willie's breathing evens out, they're laying half on top of Alex, their hands still linked. Alex is sure his heart is hammering too fast for him to doze off, but the next thing he knows is the siren that is Reggie's alarm going off around 8 am.

He isn't sure what to make of the fact that he feels more rested than he has in weeks.